by Marie Scully
I open my door and step into the hallway as Nicole leaves the upstairs bathroom. She glares at me as she walks closer. Glaring must be her only facial expression.
When she gets closer I notice her eyes are glassy again. Maybe she’s just drunk, but I highly doubt it.
“You know he’ll never want you? Maybe for a day or two, but it won’t last. I’ve known him long enough to know that,” she says, hatred dripping from her voice.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about, and to be honest I don’t much care for your tone. You don’t know the first thing about me.” Stay calm. Don’t snap.
“I know your type,” she hisses. Her eyes flash as she takes another step closer.
She doesn’t know me; I grew up with people far worse than her. She has nothing on them. But if she takes one step closer, I will show her my type. She reminds of the people I’d meet at my father’s gatherings. Beautiful on the outside but rotten to the core. Willing to do anything to get what they want. I can’t help but think about the last time I saw my father and all the hell that went with it.
❖
I toss the last of what I’d need for the evening in the bag and throw the bag over my shoulder right as a knock comes on the door—11 a.m. on the dot. Paul, one of my father’s personal drivers, was never a minute late. Always right at 11 a.m. to pick me up and then we’d leave right at 8:30 the following morning, as we had the past few years. My car was once more in the shop, but even if it was up and running, my father would never have let me show up at his home in it. What would the neighbors say?
I open the door and look down at Paul as I say, “Paul, it’s been too long. What’s it been, a year?”
He shakes his head at me, his white hair blowing in the breeze. His black suit looks out of place in this part of town. “I think a year and a day, Miss Danielle,” is his response as he reaches for the dress in the dry cleaner’s bag and takes the duffel in his other hand. He pops the trunk and throws in the bag, then opens the back-passenger door of the silver BMW for me. I climb in and he closes it with a thunk.
Before returning to the driver’s door, he opens the opposite passenger door and hangs the dress. God forbid the dress has a wrinkle. He finally takes his place, turning on the engine, and classic rock fills the air.
“For me, Paul? How thoughtful,” I say, pulling the seat belt on.
He looks back in the rear-view mirror, smiling, and replies, “Only the best for you.”
Paul is one of the few people in my father’s employ that’s kind to me. He even offered to let me move in with him and his wife. For a second, I almost took him up on the offer, but I know if I did he would lose his job and my father would ruin his chances of getting another.
“New car?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, Mr. Monroe got it last month.”
“I can tell, with the new car smell still around.”
My father is always getting the next, newer, better model of everything. By the time the new car smell fades in this car, he’ll be ready for the next.
Paul drives the rest of the way in silence. I’m grateful. It gives me much-needed time to mentally prepare, and I watch out the window as the world flows by. The closer we get to his place, the more beautiful the houses and business become. It’s amazing what forty-five minutes can do. Long gone were the business with bars on the windows and cars abandoned on the side of the road, tires and metal long scrapped.
Paul looks back again as we pull to the gate and asks, “You ready? We can go by and get food first?”
“No, but thanks, Paul. The quicker we get this show on the road, the quicker I can go home.”
He nods and plugs the code into the gate. The green light flashes and the gate to my personal hell opens. The drive down the driveway is never-ending, though the large fountains, flowers, trees, and classic statues would impress most people.
Me? I already miss the bars on the windows. There I know how to act and what to say. Here was a whole new battlefield.
The vast mansion comes into view. Paul parks the car and quickly moves to open the door for me; he’ll get the bags as he always does. I always ask to carry them, and each time he refuses.
The mansion is still as cold as ever. Towering over me as if attempting to intimidate. Windows and brick make the exterior of the home, while inside the house are eleven bedrooms, nine and a half baths, a large kitchen, a movie room, and an indoor pool. Along with everything else anyone could wish for. Outside is a large Olympic-size pool, tennis court, and barn with three horses. Why he has three horses I don’t know. Probably just to say he has three horses.
I take a deep breath and before the nerves get the best of me I move up the marble stairs towards the door. Quickly opening the door, I step over the threshold, hoping that I can make it to my room before anyone notices I’ve arrived. The less time I have to talk to anyone, the better.
I know luck isn’t on my side when I look up the marble spiral staircase and see Holly, my half-sister, coming down. She’s lost in thought and at first doesn’t notice me. Once she does, she says excitedly, “Danny! You’re here. Finally.” She practically runs down the stairs towards me. As soon as she reaches me, she wraps herself in my arms, whispering, “I’m so happy you’re here. You’ll make tonight tolerable.”
I hug her tightly. I was generally happy to see Holly. She and her brother Nick had nothing to do with my messed -up history with our father. Holly and Nick were even more pawns in our father’s never-ending chess game. I could at least get away once the night was over.
After another few seconds, I move from her grasp. “I’ve missed you too, Holly. Where’s everyone else?” I ask, hoping that by some miracle our father isn’t home.
“Father’s in a meeting in his study. Mother’s finalizing the dinner menu with the chef. Nicky is off somewhere with his latest girlfriend.”
“Ahh well, we have a few hours before the party, what do you want to do?” I don’t see Holly often, and I do miss her. I know she looks up to me, even though I’m only a year older. She is the light in this family—always trying to look on the positive side.
“Hmm, I don’t know. There are too many options. I would say swim but Mother would lose it if I messed up my hair. How about a movie?” Her eyes are hopeful.
“Yeah, sounds like a plan. You pick.”
She loops her arm in mine. “I have so much to tell you…”
A two-hour movie and many conversations later, I’m in my room getting ready. I finish my lips and look in the mirror again. I thankfully look nothing like my father. I inherited my mom’s dark brown hair, short stature, and trim figure. My hair used to be long down my back but I’ve recently cut it a little past shoulder length.
My eyes are light blue. Those I got from my father.
The black cocktail dress goes a little below my knees, hugging my figure, and I wear black strappy two-inch heels, giving my legs much-needed length. Opening the drawer, I pull out the jewel pouch my father has left. Each year he leaves some piece of jewelry to wear for the evening. Probably as a conversation starter so I can say he gave them to me. Last year it was ruby earrings; the year before a diamond necklace. They were, however, not allowed to leave the house.
What was it to be this year? Reaching in the bag, I pull out a pearl necklace and matching bracelet.
There’s a knock on the door I wasn’t expecting and I almost drop the jewelry.
“Yes,” I yell at the door.
Holly’s voice yells back, “You have five minutes.”
“Okay, thanks. Head down without me; I’ll be there in a sec.”
I quickly clasp the necklace at my nape and place the bracelet around my wrist, checking that both will stay in place. The last thing I need is to lose one of them. I look in the mirror one more time to make sure my make-up is still in place and then run out the door.
“You’re late.” My father’s voice echoes down the hall as I walk quickly to where the rest of the family
is standing. The rest of the guests are already in the ballroom. We’re the last to arrive as always. Father liked to make an entrance.
“The party starts at seven. It is 6:48. I’m early,” I reply, keeping my face neutral. The last thing I need is to start a fight with him before the night even begins.
“Yes, but I wanted everyone here to go over the rules and the plan again.”
It’s at the tip of my tongue to tell him what I think of his plans, but I decide to go with silence instead.
He waits another moment to see if I’ll reply; he’s obviously itching for a fight. But it won’t be with me. I just want to make it through this evening and go home in the morning. He’ll pay James’s monthly bill, and I won’t have to worry about my brother until he gets out and we repeat the circle once more.
I just have to swallow my pride and keep my mouth shut. Last time we got into a bit of an argument and Father dearest refused to pay James’s bill for a few days, which led to the hospital threatening to throw him out and me owing my father another favor.
Not this time. I can give a few hours.
“I have some significant people here tonight. This is a big night for me—for all of us. I don’t need any surprises or embarrassments. Am I understood?” he commands, looking at me the entire time.
“Of course, honey. Everything will go just perfect,” Liz says, grasping his arm. Liz is Holly and Nick’s mother. She’s nice in a fake way. Not that I can blame her—my mother was the woman he cheated on her with, though in no way was she the last. He just got better at hiding them.
“Oh, come now, Dad, it’s going to be like it is every year. Boring and uneventful,” Nick says, winking at me. He’s the troublemaker. We get along well. Nick looks like our father with his blond hair. It’s longer than the last time I saw him. He must be growing it out. Our father must love that. He’s taller than our father by a good few inches, and he’s built—he goes to the gym at least once a day. His blue eyes shine with mischief. He reminds me of James before James broke himself. Tonight, he wears a gray suit. I have no doubt the ladies will be all over him.
Holly looks like a cross between her father and mother. She has our father’s pale complexion and her mother’s green eyes and black hair. Tonight, her lips are painted a soft pink and she wears a dark green dress. Where Nick looks handsome, she looks gorgeous. And I look like me.
“Shut your mouth,” their father snaps. Nick winks at me again.
Holly and I say nothing, Holly because she’s afraid of our father—not that she would ever say that out loud—and me because I only need to make it a few hours and then I can return to my normal life.
“It had better be perfect,” Father growls once more before the doors open and we walk into the room.
Smiles and jewels. The perfect family.
Chapter Ten
Danny
Nicole moves her mouth to say more, but Ben reaches the top of the stairs before she can. He looks between us, then takes a step towards us. “What’s going on?” he demands.
“Nicole was just about to take a step back.” I keep my tone more even than I feel. She must sense how close to the edge I am, because for a moment her face shows concern. She steps back and then around us both, heading back downstairs.
“What was that about?” Ben asks.
“I have no clue. I was just leaving my room when she started on me. I don’t know what her issue with me is.” I do have an idea what her issue is: Liam. But Ben doesn’t need to know that. “What are you doing up here?”
“I was grabbing a deck of cards. You going down?” Ben asks as he glances towards the stairs.
“I was thinking of it. I can’t do much up here with the music anyways.”
He has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry about that. It was only going to be a small group. Either word got out, or it was all part of Liam’s plan. A little of both, I would say.”
“It’s okay. Meet you back down there.”
“Sounds good,” he replies, moving towards his room to retrieve the cards.
As I go down the stairs, I recognize voices from Liam’s party. Quickly I find the drinks in the kitchen. After mixing a vodka soda, I head to the family room, hoping to find someone I’ve already met while avoiding Nicole. People circle from room to room trying to find friends, or their next drink or partner.
Out of nowhere, I feel myself being pulled back by my arm. I swing around, ready to go off, and realize it’s Liam. He’s changed from the T-shirt he had on earlier to a blue polo with darker jeans. He sees my face and takes a step back, saying, “Glad you came down from your hiding spot.”
I take a sip of my drink, trying to figure out what his game is for the evening.
“It was a little hard to do anything in my room with the music blaring,” I say, sending him a glare.
“It’s just a little party. What did you do for fun before you came here?” he asks as he leads me to an empty spot on the nearby couch.
“Not much. My life was boring. I just worked a lot.” I move my hands to either side of my cup. They need something to do. I don’t want to talk about my past.
Before he can ask me more, I change the topic back to him. “How about you? Is there more to Liam than pretty-party-boy-talented-jockey?”
“Nope, that about sums me up. Careful there—you gave me two compliments,” he points out with a wink.
Guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to talk about their past, yet for some reason, I want to know more about him. Which leads me to say, “I’m sure that’s not true.”
His face becomes serious. His gaze drops to the ground before looking back up. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he says candidly.
Yeah, that’s not happening. “You’re right—never mind. You’re pretty good at your persona so why ruin it now?” I say, annoyed that I’m even sitting here. In fact, I don’t need to sit here. Getting to my feet I start to walk away when he pulls me back to the couch.
“What the hell?” I ask.
“I wanted to talk about the kiss. You see, I think we both felt a connection, but I don’t do connection.”
I realize now that he’s more intoxicated than I had originally thought. He continues to ramble.
“I had this idea.” This should be good. “That we should kiss again and see if the zinging feeling is still there or if it was just in the heat of the moment from the camping trip.” Confidently he speaks as if he’s just solved the world’s hardest math problem. At least now I know I wasn’t the only one who felt the “zing”, as he put it.
While his idea does have some merit, I’m not going to kiss him again. I have a slight fear that the zinging feeling wasn’t a one-time thing or, worse, that it would be for him and not me.
“I think you should get some water,” I say, moving to stand again. His hand doesn’t move from my arm; instead his grip tightens.
“Stay.” His tone is pleading.
“What?” Shock and concern drop from my words. His tone is almost heartbroken—different than the Liam I’ve seen on other occasions. “What’s wrong?”
“Just stay. I just want you to say. You… there’s something about you. Please stay.”
Meeting his eyes, I try to read him for some clue as to what’s going on. This was past having too many drinks. There was something really bugging him. I start to ask what’s going on but Ben shows up in front of us.
“Hey, Liam, I got challenged to beer pong. You ready to take them down?” he exclaims, jumping up and down like a kid on vacation. He’s not all that steady, so the other team may have a shot at winning. Liam’s mask is back in place in an instant. If I hadn’t seen him a moment ago, I never would have known anything was wrong.
“Yeah, let’s go.” He looks back at me and asks, “You want to watch?”
“Uh, you guys go have fun. I’m going to get another drink and meet some new people, but let me know who wins,” I stammer out. I need a minute to process what just happened.
Ben starts over to the other room, where they’ve set up the table. Liam stands up and looks down at me, still on the couch. “What do you say we forget the last part of our conversation?” From his tone it’s more of a declaration than a question.
I nod but I don’t want to forget. Liam needs someone to talk to, but to open his wounds would be like opening my own, and I’m not any more ready for that than he is. I just nod my agreement. I need another drink. That will help a little. Maybe.
I grab one then sit on the coach with it for a few more moments, trying to figure out what the hell just happened, before I finally break and go to find Liam and Ben. I wanted to grab Liam and try to talk to him about what had happened, but he and Ben appear to be in a deep, important conversation. Neither notices me though, so I’m able to sneak away quickly.
I find Megan in the kitchen with some of her college friends. They’re playing poker and deal me in. Thankfully Nicole is still nowhere in sight. Time gets away with me, with drinks and rounds of cards, and the next time I check my phone, it’s 3 a.m. There are still at least twenty people in different rooms.
“Hey, guys, I’m going to head to bed. I’ll catch you later on,” I say mid-yawn. Rounds of goodnights are said as I leave the kitchen and head towards my room. Even with my alcohol-hazed brain I still dream.
❖
“You like him, don’t you?” James observes as he sways on the swing. We’re in a park that looks oddly familiar. Or, right, it was the park that Mom would let us play in near one of her clients’ homes. Typically, there were other kids there, but today it’s just James and me.
I watch his back as he flies in the air. I need to get closer, because it’s not him. It can’t be him. I take off my shoes and feel the woodchips between my toes, then make my way quickly to the other swing before he disappears.
I take my seat, move back, and push off. Soon I’m flying with him, him moving forward as I go back. I can’t catch him. He’s going too fast. He twists his head back to look at me, saying again, “You like him, don’t you?”