“Yes, yes. Bernice showed me how to make an avatar on my phone,” I replied, trying to match his casual tone. “I should have gone with that.”
“Nah, I like this,” he answered. “A real-life conversation on the phone. Look at us—showing all those other thirty-somethings how good ol’ fashioned talking on the phone is done.”
I laughed. And somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to ask, “Where are you?”
“At my parents’ house in Queens.”
Queens—well, that explained his tough-guy accent. “Oh, how nice. Are you having a good time?”
“No, I’m bored as fuck. How about you? Where are you at?”
“Um, I came home for Thanksgiving Weekend. I always do. Glendaver—really my dad—hosts a fox hunt every year, and afterward, there’s always a big party. All our executives, business partners, and other prominent Kentucky families come out for it. So I’m expected to attend, even after the divorce. Especially after the divorce. It’s always so important to Dad that his daughters present a united front with him no matter what.….”
A resentful note had crept into my voice, so I made myself stop. But apparently, my feelings on the matter were pretty clear.
“You don’t want to go,” he guessed easily.
“I…” I tried and failed to come up with an acceptable answer. Instead, the truth came spilling out. “My stepsister is pregnant. Garrett’s the father.”
“Da fuck? You went back to him, and he’s just now telling you he knocked up your stepsister?”
“What? No, I didn’t go back to him. I just went home after he told me he’d moved his things out of the brownstone and left my purse in the mailbox. I would never, ever get back together with him after what he did.”
Another silence. It stretched out even longer than the first. Then he simply said, “So he’s with Leighton now.”
“Yes, I guess getting caught cheating just wasn’t enough for them.” I plopped back onto my bed with a miserable sigh. “They both had to come here for Thanksgiving to tell my dad and his wife that Leighton’s pregnant—so Dad can, you know, still keep the business in the family if he sells it to Easton Whiskey. Because as it turns out, our relationship meant nothing to Garrett. I was just some pawn in a business deal. To the point that my father is asking me to come to the party, sit through their engagement announcement, and act like I’m cool with the whole thing. When really, I’m so, so angry and sad, and I don’t know what to do with any of this. I just want to return home and go back to delivering babies. You know, giving people joy. But I’m stuck here in this kabuki show my life has been ever since I became the lucky seven-month-old the Glendavers plucked out of that Ugandan orphanage.”
I’ve run out of breath by the time I’m done. And my throat is contracting around a lump I can’t swallow down, no matter how hard I try.
So I wait. I wait for Hak-kan’s response. For some reason, it feels like he’s the anchor in a stormy sea. The one thing I can hold onto to keep all these horrible emotions from overwhelming me.
But he just says, “Alright.”
Alright.
That’s when I get it. How crazy I must sound. The one-night-stand he’d probably already forgotten about, calling him to unload all her family drama on him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry for—I shouldn’t have called you on Thanksgiving. Go, go, be with your family.”
“Alright,” he said again. And this time, he hung up.
So no, I didn’t make it downstairs for Thanksgiving Dinner. I texted Skylar that I wasn’t feeling well, and she texted me right back.
SKYLAR: Yes, probably for the best. You get your rest, and we’ll figure out how to break the news to Mama tomorrow morning.
Technically, I’d lied to my sister. I wasn’t really sick. But I felt weak and cold. I spent the rest of Thanksgiving underneath the covers, rabbit holing articles about how to hold your head up in the face of humiliation.
I found nothing of real use, though. Just advice like, remember who you are at the core, ignore the person humiliating you, don’t react angrily, and perhaps most perplexing of all, let your anger liberate you.
But how?
I had no core. I’d made my entire life out of playing the side character in other people’s stories.
I’d started off as the lucky orphan who suddenly found herself one of the heirs to a bourbon dynasty. My adoption was still brought up in puff pieces about my father, like my very existence in his family automatically made him one of the world’s most saintly millionaires.
I’d grown up to become the doctor who delivered the baby in other women’s stories of triumph. But, of course, I’d never gotten one of my own.
Outside the clinic, I was supposed to be the wife who married the perfect on paper guy. But it was never about me. Daughter, Doctor, Fiancée—they were all roles I played for others—
Except for that one night.
I remembered looking at the Dragon over that birthday candle, and for the first time in my life, deciding to do what I wanted. Take what I wanted.
A kiss. Just a kiss.
But for me, it had been a miraculous act of rebellion.
Maybe that was why I decided to set myself up for even more humiliation by calling him.
Alright.
The one word swirled around my head as I fell into a fitful sleep.
That night, I went to the hunt’s afterparty naked. No one would loan me any clothing, so I did the best I could with my hands. But it wasn’t enough. Everyone ended up pointing and laughing until Skylar came up to me with a mirror and said, “Look at yourself, Livvy. Just look at yourself.”
My heart thundering with fear, I held up the mirror….and woke up to the sun shining way too brightly through my windows.
I hadn’t had anything to drink yesterday. But all that feeling sorry for myself and reading articles about humiliation in a dark room had dehydrated me and made me sensitive to the light. I shrunk away from the sun of a new day, like a vampire with a hangover.
“Don’t scream.”
Goosebumps—check.
Hair rising on the back of my neck—check.
Crazy fluttering in the pit of my stomach—check.
Sudden urge to scream even though he told me not to—check.
What the heck? I recognized that voice.
I shot up in bed….and found Hak-kan, the Dragon, sitting in the dainty vanity chair I flipped over last night.
11
Hak-kan. Phantom.
Whatever you wanted to call him. He was here.
He was rolling something in his hand—a bottle of a Hyaluronic Acid Serum that my mother had left on top of the princess vanity along with a host of other anti-aging products. That had been her version of a motivational pep talk after I told her about my break-up with Garrett.
I sensed that he’d only picked up the glass dropper bottle because he’d needed something to do with his hands.
Random beauty product aside, he looked terrific. He wore a gorgeous bespoke three-piece suit, dark green overcheck twill with a wide burgundy tie. And unlike the last time I saw him, his black hair was slicked back into a pompadour with a hard part and an undercut.
Cleaned up…. he looked about as cleaned up as a colossal granite statue with a snake peeking out of his collar could get.
I couldn’t believe it.
I rose from the bed.
And his eyes scanned me like they did that night.
But he didn’t move from his seat.
And I found that one step was all I could take toward him before asking, “What…what are you doing here?”
He twisted his lips and raised his shoulders in one of those shrugs only cynical native New Yorkers could make. “It sounded like you needed a date to this party, so I flew out.”
My heart raced at his answer, even as my brain struggled to believe, “You flew all the way to Kentucky, just so I wouldn’t have to go to the hunt afterparty alon
e?”
He stood up, rolled his shoulders. “Like, I said, I ain’t pretty. But I’m somebody.”
I stared at him.
And he scraped a hand over the shaved back of his head. “I understand if me coming with you isn’t an option you want to take. I flew out here private, so we could just hop on my plane and be like, fuck it, too—oof.”
He broke off with a grunt when I threw myself into his arms and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you.”
A few awkward beats. Then his arms wrapped around me, warm and sure. “You’re welcome, O.”
I was so grateful to Hak-kan just for showing up; it was pretty much up to my mom and sister to ask all the logical questions at breakfast.
Like, “Who are you?”
“Where did you come from?”
And “How did you get in here?”
My mother was especially curious about that last one. “Our room is right by the stairs, and neither Hector nor I heard you come in.”
“I’m stealthy,” Hak-kan let her know before answering the rest of their questions. “Flew in yesterday from New York. Name’s Hak-kan Zhang. Everybody but O needs to call me Phantom, though.”
Skylar narrowed her eyes and repeated, “O—is that some kind of nickname for my sister? Because the rest of us call her Livvy.”
Hak-kan leaned back in the seat he’d taken at the head of the breakfast nook table—without asking if it was okay for him to sit there. “I call her a few different things. Depends on where we’re at.”
Then he sent a heated look down the table toward me.
Skylar widened her eyes, and Mama clutched at her literal pearls to say, “Oh my….”
And I squirmed for reasons that were 50% embarrassment and 50% I don’t know what to do with myself. I’d never been the object of such a lewd stare—especially in public, and I didn’t know how to act or respond.
Luckily, Skylar pounced with more questions. “So you’re coming with us to the party, and we’re supposed to what? Act as if you didn’t show up here out of the blue?”
Hak-kan shrugged. “You can do whatever you want, Skylar. I’m here for Olivia—you know, the one who’s getting the short end of the stick in the whole mess your dad created for her.”
Skylar had the grace to blush at being called out for making this all about her.
“It’s very kind of you to come to her rescue, even if you are….” Her eyes strayed to the snake tattoo peeking above the collar of his suit… “a bit unorthodox. I’m just saying we barely know anything about you. What will I say when people start asking questions?”
“You could say it’s none of their business who your sister got with after that douchebag betrayed her. They should all be judging him, not her.”
Skylar let out one of her specialty indignant gasps. However, Hak-kan continued on before she could launch into a defensive temper tantrum.
“Since extreme loyalty doesn’t seem to be your speed, here’s your cover story,” he informed her with a flat look. “O and I have known each other for a while—over ten years. After her break-up, we ran into each other, and when I found out she was single, I pounced. Tell them I’d been crushing on her from afar for a decade, but the timing was never right. So we’ve only been together for a few weeks, but it’s serious—tell them that.”
I know it’s just make-believe, but sparks go off inside my stomach at his cover story. There’s something so weirdly thrilling about the thought of having a secret admirer I didn’t know about, even if it’s only make-believe.
“Okay,” Skylar said carefully. “That’s what I’ll say. I have a couple more questions, though. It might seem silly to you, but people will expect me to know about your family….”
“Parents are retired. Mom was a teacher beginning to end. And dad was in the import/export business.”
“I see,” Skylar answered, her tone wildly unimpressed. “And obviously, they’ll be curious about your job.”
Hak-kan smoothed a hand over his lapel. “Businessman.”
“What sort of business?”
“All sorts,” he answered. “Tell you what, if anyone has follow-up questions, you send them to me.”
“Okay then, Phantom.” Skylar gave him a cold, polite lift of the lips. I suppose you could call it a smile if you really used your imagination.
But Mom grinned broadly. “Oh, my, oh my. You’re making me jealous for the first time that I’m no longer invited to that insufferable party.”
Skylar just threw me a look. One I could easily translate as “are you sure about this?”
No, no, I wasn’t sure about this. Not at all.
Hak-kan led the charge into the party after telling one of the shocked executive assistants manning the Glendaver Castle doors that he was my plus one.
The fox hunt had started out as a full-on version of the English kind back in the forties with hunting officials, tweed jackets, hounds, trompe horns, and everything. But it had changed a lot over the last couple of decades under my father’s somewhat liberal management.
No animals were actually killed during the hunt anymore—just scared off in the cases of coyotes and wrangled into a cage on the rare occasion they were actually able to track down a fox. Also, with the addition of a hand full of women executives under my father’s tenure as the CEO/Owner of Glendaver Bourbon, the males-only rule had been scrapped.
However, though the hunt had adapted to keep up with changing attitudes in America, I couldn’t say the same for the party. As always, it took place in the castle’s great hall, a vast space filled with leather couches, Persian rugs, Impressionist artwork, and no less than four floor-to-ceiling hearth fireplaces, all overseen by a high wood-beam ceiling.
As usual, nearly all the men were gathered around the built-in bar, networking and setting up deals. Meanwhile, most of the women and grown progeny—children weren’t allowed at the party—filled up the rest of the room, mingling and gossiping in dresses and suits they’d bought especially for this exclusive event.
Dad stood front and center at the bar, holding court with Gerald Easton standing by his side as if they were already business partners.
And sure enough, I spotted Garrett and Leighton holding hands as they walked around the party, re-introducing themselves as a couple.
He wore a dark blue suit, and she sported a puffed sleeve dress close to the same color, which made her appear older—most likely on purpose to spackle over their fifteen-year age gap. In any case, they looked like American royalty with their ultra-traditional good looks and matchy-matchy outfits.
The other guests greeted them with good cheer. I’m sure they’d been prepped by Leighton’s mother beforehand. She wanted their engagement announcement to go off without a hitch.
Speaking of my stepmother, Muffy stood at the bottom of the steps—the perfect position to personally greet anyone who arrived at the fete while holding her own sort of court.
Each year’s party seemed to introduce even more trophy wives—usually younger, less pedigreed versions of the exact same wife the older execs had before. And Muffy got to be the queen of them all while the few remaining wives glared at them from a circle they’d formed in the farthest corner of the room.
However, all of the party’s usual suspects looked up when Hak-kan and I appeared at the top of the stone steps that led into the sunken hall.
The volume of conversation considerably lowered. And my father gaped at me—right before Gerald Easton grabbed him by the shoulder and started whispering in my father’s ear.
I was fairly certain all this attention wasn’t for the Audrey Hepburnesque raspberry-colored swing dress I’d scored last minute at Von Maur to match Hak-kan’s perfect suit. It did have pockets, but still…
Dad and Gerald Easton’s conversation was so obviously about my arrival on the arm of a huge Chinese guy. And they weren’t the only ones who had an immediate reaction. Many of the businessmen, who were still wearing their tall dress boots, canary breeches, and tweed hunt
coats, stared at us, then dipped their heads down for fast and furious whispering sessions, including Clement. Apparently, Skylar hadn’t warned him about my date before our arrival.
For once, I didn’t mind so much being delegated to the women’s side of the party. At least they were fake enough to be subtle when they were talking about you.
Muffy peeled away from her trophy wife court and walked up the steps to meet us halfway.
“Sky! Livvy! I’m so glad you could make it!” She said much more loudly than she needed to before giving us air kisses.
Then she dropped her voice to add, “And Livvy, how sweet of you to bring a date. Leighton is just beside herself with guilt over this situation. It will make it so much easier when we give the announcement about Garrett and Leighton getting married later after the fox pardon.”
That was another newish tradition. After about three to four hours of merriment, the hunt participants released a fox back into the woods behind Glendaver Castle—either one they’d caught or one they’d acquired for the symbolic gesture of the whiskey company’s generosity and goodwill.
The only thing sillier than that tradition was the words that had just come out of Muffy’s mouth. However, I’d been raised to never make a scene, especially in front of company. So I didn’t respond.
But apparently, Hak-kan didn’t have any such training in his background.
“You really think she brought me so that you and your traitor daughter could feel more comfortable about her getting knocked up by her stepsister’s ex?” he asked Muffy. “I see that delusional apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
A surprise snort of laughter slipped out before I could stop it. And Skylar clamped her lips, obviously trying to keep from laughing herself.
Muffy gave my date a withering look. “There are a few people I’d like Olivia to meet. Usually, the men converse near the bar.”
Hak-kan glanced toward the men’s side of the party. “Nah, hard pass. I’ll stick with O. I figure there are already enough people at this function not on her side. Why add to that number?”
Phantom: Her Ruthless Fiancé: 50 Loving States, Kentucky (Ruthless Triad) Page 8