by Nyla K
Since I have not the slightest clue what to say or do, I clear my throat six hundred times and meander away from her, over to the balcony of my suite. Just as I’m about to head outside, I make the mistake of turning back.
She’s at the door, leaving, looking exactly like Damien’s daughter once more. It turns my stomach and lurches my heart.
Glancing over her shoulder at me, her face is still and unsure.
Our eyes lock. I swallow. She tucks her hair behind her ear.
Something inside me wants to call out to her… To apologize, or ask her to stay. To say some words, because she deserves something.
But I smother it fast, since that’s not an option, and I know I’m just being foolish.
I can’t do any of that, because this never happened.
And then she leaves.
And I spend the rest of my wedding night on the balcony of my honeymoon suite, watching the sun come up over Biscayne Bay.
Chapter Twenty
Traci
My phone rings.
I ignore it for a moment, before caving and lifting my head to glance at the screen. I have a migraine and keeping my eyes open for more than five seconds is making it worse.
I see a Miami number I don’t recognize, so I let it go to voicemail, but it calls right back.
I huff out of annoyance and answer the call.
“Yes?” I grumble, covering my eyes with the hand that’s not holding the phone.
“Is that any way to greet your BFF?”
My eyes fling open, and I sit up. “Merci??”
“You know it, bitch!” She squeals and I gasp through a laugh.
“What is this number? Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in months!” All the words come out at once, but I can’t help it.
I’ve missed her so much I don’t even know how to react. It’s been lonelier than ever before, going through everything without my best friend. She and her roommate snuck in a phone a few months back, so we were able to text and talk occasionally, but then the number went out of service and I was left wondering.
“This is my new number, so save it,” she commands. “After graduation I had some more drama with my asshole stepdad, so I ditched him and my mom and moved into my own place. I had to get my own phone plan too, obviously.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, processing all this new information. “Wait, what do you mean you have your own place?? When did that happen?”
“Our graduation was two weeks ago, and as soon as I left campus I came back to get my things and peaced the fuck out,” she explains, not sounding anywhere near as stressed as I would if I had just left my parents and moved out on my own for the first time. “Sorry, lovie. I would’ve called you sooner, but it took me a bit to get settled in my new apartment, and at my new job.”
My eyes widen. “You have a job already? Doing what?”
“Well, I need a job to pay for shit, don’t I, silly ass?” She chuckles.
“You mean you’re out on your own? Like, completely?”
“Yup. I told you, after my mom sent me to that damn hell-hole, there was no way I was staying under their thumb ever again. They’re fucking douchebags. That place sucked ass.”
“Wow…” My voice trails as I consider what she’s saying.
I’ve been thinking more and more lately that I need to get the fuck out of here myself. Not that my dad is an asshole, because he’s not. He’s great, and I love him more than anything. But he doesn’t get me at all. He just assumes I’ll either stay living in his house forever, and end up working for his company, or that I’ll meet a guy and become a housewife, like Mom was.
I loved my mother, and I thought she was a queen; she held our worlds together. But I know she wanted to do other things with her life and she never did. I have no desire to spend my days taking care of children, or going to college and earning a useless degree.
Merci has a point. The only way I’ll ever truly be on my own is to sever ties with my dad’s bank accounts. Just rip it off, like a Band-Aid.
And he still doesn’t know that I have no intention of going to college. But that’s a whole other thing…
“So how’s everything with you, my little cherub?” Merci asks, and tears push behind my eyes because of how badly I missed her.
I missed having my best friend’s ear. It’s been so lonely.
Things haven’t felt right since the wedding night. I haven’t spoken a word to Lazarus. He barely even looks at me, and it makes me feel like the most foolish moron in history.
Because honestly, what did I think would happen? I would force him into messing around with me and he’d somehow realize that he liked me? That he, an almost forty-year-old billionaire, would want anything at all to do with a seventeen-year-old headcase?
To make matters worse, he’s been out, sticking his dick in every slut in the three-oh-five. Celebrating being single again, I suppose. The only reason I know about it is because I obsessively stalk social media for any mention of him, and every time I see his face, it’s with a new skank.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. Lazarus dodged a bullet when Evangeline left, and it clearly gave him a renewed desire to prove how anti-relationship he is.
He’s like a wild stallion who burst free from the reins holding him down, and now he’s off. Gone with the wind.
Dad’s no help either. He’s been doing his fair share of dating, too, which leaves me by myself a majority of my days. I’m beginning to wonder if anyone would even notice if I left…
“I’m sorry, babe, but you gotta forget about him,” Merci says after I fill her in on how I haven’t spoken to Lazarus in months, since the night he blindfolded me and instructed me to touch myself while he watched. Otherwise known as the best night of my life. “There are so many hot guys out there, I’m telling you. It’s like a smorgasbord. Seriously, take your pick.”
I roll my eyes through a laugh. “It’s not that simple, Merci…”
“Yea yea, I know. You only want him. Well, guess what? We can find you a sexy older man with zombie eyes and tattoos all over his excessive muscles. We live in Miami, after all. Dudes like that are a dime a dozen.”
“You still haven’t told me where you’re working.” I say, praying for a subject change. I can’t think about Lazarus anymore. It hurts my heart too much. “And how you’re making enough money to support yourself already.”
“Right. I’m a stripper,” she says calmly, and I choke on air.
“A what?!” I cough, eyelids fluttering.
“A stripper,” she says it slower, as if me not hearing her was the problem the first time. “I got a job at this gentleman’s club called The Boom Boom Room. It’s a decent place. You don’t have to show your tits or anything if you don’t want to, even though that’s where you make the best money, obviously.” She giggles wickedly and I’m speechless.
Though I shouldn’t be. This is Merci we’re talking about. She’s a total psycho, and that’s why I love her. She’s been doing drugs, drinking, and having sex since she was fourteen. Some may say that’s not the best company to keep, but to those people I’d say get off your high horse, Judge Judy.
No one’s perfect, especially those who look like it on the outside.
“Holy shit, Merc… I can’t believe you’re a stripper,” I shake my head slowly. “Do you like it?”
“Yea, it’s pretty cool.” She makes it sound so casual, an exceptional skill of Mercedes Huntington. “I took classes to get really good at the pole, so now I make like eight-hundred a night. Unless I take clients into the Champagne Room…”
“The Champagne Room? Is that a real thing?” I am beyond intrigued right now.
“You bet your sweet ass it is,” she teases. “These guys are rich as fuck and looking to spend. Last weekend I took home two grand, cash money.”
Wow… No wonder she’s supporting herself already. Damn.
“Anyway, I called to find out when you’re coming to see me in my new place!
” She chirps with excitement and it makes me itch to see my bestie again. I miss her like crazy.
“Hopefully soon.” I rub my forehead. “Graduation is in two weeks. My dad’s been on my ass about summer internships at his company, and I don’t know how to tell him there’s no way in hell I’m working there. Even if it weren’t for having to see Lazarus every day, I have no desire to spend my summer getting coffee for rich assholes.”
“Yea, fuck that noise,” Merci agrees. “Why don’t you just tell him you want to apprentice at one of the yoga studios?”
“I tried talking to him about it, but he never thinks I’m serious about anything. He sees the yoga and meditation thing as a hobby.”
“Pfft,” she breathes into the phone and it makes me laugh. “There’s a sick yoga and pilates studio in my neighborhood I started going to. I should see if they’d hire you!”
“Where is this?”
“Little Haiti.”
“Oh yea. That’d go over well,” I huff.
My dad would never let me work in Little Haiti. He’d lock me in my room.
“Well, why don’t you just do it without his permission?” She points out. “Honestly girl, rich parents will never agree to let you do what you want. They have one-track-minds. If you want to live life on your own terms, you’ll have to break away from Daddy Dearest.”
“I don’t know, Merc…” Chewing on my lip, I consider her words. “My dad’s all I have left.”
“I know, honey, but he’s stifling you. Maybe he doesn’t mean to, but whether or not it’s intentional, he’s pushing you into that narrow societal mold, just like his parents did to him.”
My mind rushes over what she’s saying. It makes perfect sense. I honestly don’t think my father is trying to keep me in a cage, but he’s doing it, regardless. And before it wasn’t horrible. At least I knew he cared.
But since what happened with Lazarus, I’m feeling more and more weighed down. As painful as it was to think about watching him marry and start a family with Evangeline, it’s equally terrible to sit by while he sleeps around, solidifying himself as a permanent womanizing bachelor, like he foolishly thinks he’s meant to be.
I know he’s more than that, but I guess he doesn’t. And he doesn’t seem to care.
If I let my dad clip my wings now, I’ll never fly. I might not want to fly away from him, necessarily, but I really need to soar in a new direction, away from his best friend, and this hopeless crush.
Today is my high school graduation, and I barely give a shit about it.
I just want to get my diploma and call it a day. I have no desire to hang around and mingle with all the kids I can’t relate to; all the faces that have since blended together over the last four years.
I worked my ass off to graduate with honors. That’s the tiny spark of pride in this whole thing. Not that it will really matter since I won’t be attending the University of Miami like Dad thinks I am. But I’m still glad I buckled down, despite the challenges I face, internally of course.
Not all struggles are from exterior circumstances. Sometimes the toughest obstacles sit within our own minds.
I will admit, it was a pleasant surprise when my Grampa Frankie and Grampy Pete drove up from Key West to sit with Dad and watch me walk. I decided to wear one of Mom’s dresses and all three of them almost burst into tears. Well, Frankie did.
I’m standing up on the stage, waiting for my name to be called, and I look out into the crowd to find Dad. I want to focus on him, so I don’t get nervous and fall down.
Scanning all the unfamiliar faces, I lock on my father and I have to do a double-take. Because Lazarus is sitting next to him.
Lazarus… What the hell is he doing here??
He looks beautiful, in a dark gray suit that compliments his eyes, no tie, collar unbuttoned enough to show the slightest hint of ink. His expression is one of minute boredom, which is how he normally looks, so I’m not offended. I just can’t believe he came. Dad never mentioned him coming.
My cheeks suddenly heat up at the memory of him growling hushed noises that night in his hotel suite. Blindfolded with my fingers teasing my trembling wet flesh while he watched me. There’s a clenching in my core that’s hard to ignore, and I turn away to take a breath. People in front of me are being called, walking across the stage, and all I can focus on are the many women, and men, in the surrounding area drooling over Lazarus, like I just was.
Whatever, I’ve been in love with him since I was twelve. It’s a little different.
I zone back in on the present when I hear my name, and I glide over to our Principal, accepting my diploma and smiling for the photo. It goes by in a blur, so by the time I’m shuffling off the other side of the stage, I’m desperate to see my family. My eyes find Dad and Lazarus, still standing next to my cheering Grandpas, clapping and looking thoroughly pleased.
I swear my Dad has never looked prouder. And Laz is actually smiling. I haven’t seen him smile at me in months. My heart is so full, it wants to burst right out of me and fly around the auditorium.
After the ceremony is through, I immediately dash away to find my people. Reaching the seats they were in, I discover they’re empty. But before I can become too concerned, big arms scoop me up and swirl me around in a way that reminds me of when I was a little girl.
I smile and laugh, because I know it’s Dad, and I’m just so happy he’s here for me. I’m not sure why I’m emotional today, but for some reason I never thought I’d graduate.
After Mom died, I thought the world had ended. Turns out, it just got really dark for a while there.
Dad finally puts me down and spins me so I’m facing him, then takes my face in his hands.
“I’m so proud of you, Tiny.” His smile could be seen from outer space. “Watching you up there…” His voice trails off and the joy in his eyes wavers. “Mom would be so proud.”
He swallows down his emotions, then taps my chin with his knuckles before I can get too choked up. I accept hugs from my lovingly sweet Grandpas, and when all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, I turn my face upward to meet the impenetrable gaze of Lazarus Weston.
His eyes are intense, his mouth curved into the slightest grin, though I can’t be sure if it’s for show since we’re standing in front of my dad.
“Congratulations, Trix,” he hums and before I can process it, he bends and wraps me up into a tight hug.
A hug that feels like home. A hug I want to live in for the rest of my days.
He lets out a soft breath by my ear as his large hand cups the back of my head, endearingly, tingling my insides. I can’t help but inhale a silent sniff of his delicious smell while squeezing him around the waist.
The best hug ever ends far too fast, and once he lets go, it’s back to business as usual. Dad announces that we’ll be having a little family cookout at our house, and while I refuse to ask if Lazarus will be there, I’m pleased to see him pulling into the driveway behind us when we arrive back home.
Pete and Dad grill up burgers and hot dogs, chatting while Frankie shows Lazarus and me how to make a proper Key West watermelon mojito. He even gives me a small glass when no one’s looking, which makes me beam.
After we eat, we all sit around in one of the cabanas, and I open some gifts. Pete and Frankie got me a gorgeous vintage Chanel clutch that matches everything, and I’m positive I will never leave the house without.
Dad ordered me an Audi three days ago as my official graduation gift, so he put the keys in a small box for me to open now. Which I do, and I squeal, and hug him like a maniac, before we all file into the driveway to check it out more thoroughly.
It’s really a beautiful vehicle. Black with chrome wheels, leather interior, fully loaded with the highest entertainment package.
Yet I can’t help but think about what Merci said the other day, about my dad subtly forcing me to live his version of what my life should be like. And about cutting all ties to spread my wings.
As we�
�re heading back inside, Lazarus tugs my arm to stop me. Glancing up at him, I see his brows raised like he wants to say something. I peek over my shoulder to make sure Dad and my Grandpas are already inside.
“I wanted to give you your graduation gift,” he speaks quietly, his tone and the look on his face slightly serious, though also riddled with anticipation.
“Oh…” the word gusts from between my lips as I gawk at him. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I know,” he says matter-of-factly, then presents a small, gift-wrapped box from behind his back. “But I wanted to.”
Our fingers brush when he hands me the box and I feel like I’ve been zapped right in the vagina.
Swallowing eagerness down my dry throat, I slowly unwrap the sparkly silver paper in between peeking up at his face. He gives nothing away as usual, but it seems like he’s a little excited about this. Or maybe I’m just imagining it that way.
He holds out his hand for the discarded wrapping paper and I stifle a massive smile, before observing a fancy leather box. I snap it open and gasp out loud.
“Lazarus…” I whisper while removing the necklace from its box to examine it. “This is so… cool!”
Giggling, I hear the faintest chuckle come from him, which warms me all over as I study the sweetest gift I’ve ever received, especially from my godfather.
It’s a rose gold chain, with a pendant on it that says Trix, diamonds inside each letter.
“You wouldn’t know this because you’re basically an infant, but back when we were kids, all the girls wore necklaces like this,” he explains in a teasing tone that has me squinting at him. He laughs humbly and takes the jewelry from me, unbuckling the clasp. “They were really popular in the nineties. And I figured since you seem to love the music from that time, you might…”
His words dissolve, and he clears his throat. Then he motions for me to turn so he can fasten it around my neck. I’m speechless, and I’m shivering, but I try not to let him see that as I give him my back. He swoops my hair away from my neck and chills wash over me so significant my nipples pebble beneath my dress.