by D. R. Graham
I like his charisma; definitely a good match for Cooper. “Your coffin should be complimentary at least,” I joke.
“You would think, but not even family members get a discount in a Livingstone franchise anymore.” He looks down at my dress as if he’s checking me out, but just says, “Nice Lionetta.”
“Thanks.” I raise my eyebrows in a question at Cooper and he smiles, which I take as a hint. “I’m going to leave you two boys alone. Nice meeting you, Sam.”
“Likewise.”
As I walk away, my tiny crystal-encrusted purse vibrates. I lean against the posh wallpaper and pull my phone out. It’s a text from Aiden, thank God. I need a dose of something familiar to boost my self-esteem.
How’s the high life?
Apparently shit is a swear word and chewing gum is a crime
Meet me outside in 15
I check the time. Although it feels like we’ve been here all night, it’s only been an hour. Elizabeth will be disappointed if I bail this early.
I can’t leave
Just want to give u something. Will only take a minute
I could use the break. Nobody will notice.
K
My aunt walks over to me. “What are you grinning about?” she asks as she tickles my waist.
“Nothing. Are you having fun?”
“I must be.” She tips her glass and gulps back half of her wine. “My face hurts from smiling so much. Are you having fun?”
Fun? No. This doesn’t meet any of my criteria for fun. Necessary for Cooper’s sake, yes. Tolerable, barely. “Sure. Thanks for inviting us.”
“Why is your lip doing that nervous thing? Were the girls horrible?”
“Not too bad.” I mean that, but it doesn’t matter. I’m only here so Cooper can make friends. Me, I just want to fly under the radar. “I’m not really their type.”
“Maybe you’ll find out that you have more in common with them than you think. My goodness, you’ve been hanging around with hoods for so long you probably don’t even know what normal people are interested in.”
Wow. Low blow. I frown and run my fingers through my hair. I know she and Blaine don’t approve of the people we grew up around, but she’s never actually said it out loud before. The wine must be lowering her inhibitions.
My hurt must show, because Elizabeth rushes to say, “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant was—”
“Don’t bother.” I cut her off and stare at my Manolo Blahna-something shoes wishing I was actually born to wear fancy things. “I know what you meant.”
“No,” she blurts. “I… It’s just that your mom, well, she wasn’t always the way she is now. When she was your age, she was planning to go to school to study acting, too. Then she met your dad and—”
“Yeah.” I hold my hands up in surrender, hoping she’s not tipsy enough to get into it with me here. “I know how the story ends.”
“Tienne, what I’m trying to say is that you’re beautiful and talented and intelligent just like she was.”
Was. Her attempt to fix things is making it worse. “I look forward to ending up just like her, too.”
“You know I didn’t mean that in a bad way. You aren’t going to end up like your mom if you make different choices than she did. You can achieve whatever you want in life, whether it’s acting, or interior design, or something else. That’s all I meant.”
I know she means well, but it doesn’t matter how she dresses it up if no one buys it. “Excuse me, I need to go outside.” I start to turn away—away from this conversation, these people, the reminders that I’m not as good as they are.
Elizabeth’s shoulders drop as if she feels that she’s just failed at her first attempt at parenting. She tucks her hair behind her ear and stares at her empty wine glass. “Sorry. I don’t know the right things to say.”
Shit. I didn’t mean to make her feel bad. It’s not her fault that my mom is the last person on Earth I want to be compared to. It’s also not her fault that I don’t know how to take a compliment. I sigh and fidget with the handle of my purse. “You don’t need to apologize. That was the most encouraging thing a parent-type figure has ever said to me.” I step in and hug her. “Thanks for believing in me.”
She smiles and squishes up her nose like a happy chipmunk.
I’m glad I’m the reason she did the chipmunk face, but before things get too mushy, I wave and spin around. “I’ll be right back.” When I reach the archway to the lobby, I look back over my shoulder. She’s watching me in an adoring way. I wave again, then head outside. This must be how kids with normal parents feel.
I can hear the rumble of Aiden’s bike for a good minute before he actually pulls up to the steps in front of the country club. On his cut-off leather vest are the colors of the Noir et Bleu Motorcycle Club, same as his dad, his uncle, three of my uncles, and my dad when he was still alive. Aiden is so not what you would expect to see at a prestigious place like this, but the tattoos and scruffy facial hair is definitely a sexier look than any of the stiffs inside. He hangs his helmet from the handlebar and grins. I make my way down the stone steps to the curb of the roundabout in a sultry walk.
“Wow. Nice dress. I hardly recognize you.” He winks.
“This old thing,” I tease, relieved to know that the prissy dress doesn’t completely destroy my sex appeal. I swing my leg over and straddle the tank with my back facing the handlebars. He makes a sexy sound in his throat as I hook my knees over his thighs and ease my hips up closer until our chests touch. His hand slides up under the skirt of my dress. He runs his fingers along my thighs until he reaches the fabric of my underwear. Then he kisses me.
When we finally break to breathe, I whisper in his ear, “Maybe I could sneak away for a while.”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble on your first day.” He glances at the cedar beams and slate walls of the building. “Nice club.”
“Yeah.” I wink and run my hands up under his T-shirt. “A little more refined than the club you’re used to.”
His right hand slides out from underneath my dress, and he reaches into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. “I have something for you.”
“Really? It’s not my birthday. Let’s see, is it the anniversary of our first kiss? No. Our first date? No. The first time we, uh, you know. No. Hmm, I don’t think it’s an anniversary. What’s the occasion?”
“The occasion is that I love you.”
“Oh, well, that is a good occasion.”
He hands me a box that looks like it might have jewelry in it. My eyes narrow and search his face to see what he’s up to. He looks super serious. “Ti, I know I’ve told you before, but I want you to know that I really love you. Not like I’m just saying it. Like, I really love you. For real.”
“I love you, too.” My heart beats in a weird jerky rhythm like a person who can’t dance. I open the box. There is a big freakin’ diamond ring in it. My mouth drops open to swear, but no sound comes out.
The expression in his eyes seems more nervous than I have ever seen him look before. “I’m going to marry you one day. I want to make sure you’re okay with that.”
“I, uh. What?” Stunned, I take the ring out of the box. My hands shake as I slide it onto my left ring finger. It fits perfectly. Is he on crack? This is crazy. “Gylly, I’m only eighteen.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“But I want to go to school.”
His fingers lace between mine and he rotates my hand to angle the diamond to catch the light. “You can be married and go to school.”
I blink at least ten times, letting the shock sink in. “What’s the rush? Are you worried that I’ll meet a sexy rich guy who will sweep me away?”
I’m joking, but his eyebrows angle into a frown as if there is some truth to that fear. “I don’t want you to ever doubt how I feel about you.”
“I don’t need a ring to remind me of that.” I hold my hand up and admire the diamond next to my perfect manicure. Black nail
polish would have looked hideous. Eighteen? Maybe it doesn’t make a difference how old I am. It’s going to happen eventually. “Did you steal it?”
He laughs. “No. I bought it.”
“Really?” The way it sparkles against my skin is mesmerizing. “It’s beautiful, but I can’t wear it around your friends. They’ll steal it.”
“Nobody is going to steal it, and you can’t wear it at all if you don’t say yes.” I smile and wrap my arms around his neck. He rests his forehead on mine and whispers, “What do you say? Do you want to be with me forever?”
Forever with Aiden is exactly what I want, what I have always dreamed about. My eyes fill up with tears, so I close them and nod. “Yes.”
He kisses me again and this time something charges through my entire body. My fingers dig into his neck and pull him even closer to me. Both his hands are back up my skirt. I let my head drop back so he will kiss my neck. He makes his way down toward my collarbone and looks up. “I really like this dress.”
I laugh, but then the sound of someone clearing his throat startles me. I glance over my shoulder. Shit. Uncle Blaine is at the top of the stairs with his arms crossed. I blush as I tug down the hem of my skirt to cover my exposed thigh. For someone new to ‘parenting,’ he sure has the you’re-in-trouble look down pat.
“Uh, excuse the interruption. Tienne, there is someone I would like to introduce you to inside.”
“Okay. I’ll be right there.”
Blaine doesn’t leave. He stares Aiden down as if he had assaulted me or something.
“Sorry,” I whisper to Aiden.
Unfazed, because he has never cared what other people think of him, Aiden says, “Don’t worry about it.” He kisses me one more time on the cheek before I swing my leg to step back off the bike.
“Thanks for the gift.” I wink and hold my hand in front of my waist to flash the ring without Blaine noticing.
Aiden nods with a grin and starts the bike.
I love you, I mouth.
He reaches over, tugs the fabric of my skirt, and pulls me tight to his body. His hand reaches up to clutch my hair and ease my head forward until his lips are hovering next to my ear. “I love you more.”
Mmm. I can feel that right down to the core of my being. No lame corporate type is ever going to be able to compete with that. He’s definitely got nothing to worry about, ring or no ring.
He slaps my ass before he revs the bike and takes off.
When I turn around, Blaine is still frowning. His disappointment is obvious. “Making out with an outlaw biker right in front of the country club isn’t going to look good on the application for membership.”
I shake my head, angry that Blaine would assume Aiden is scum just because he doesn’t wear tailored suits or drive a Range Rover. “You knew who I was when you invited me here.”
“I thought you left that life behind.”
I shrug and bite my lip because as much as I want to tell him what I really think of his elitist discrimination, I don’t want to ruin everything for Cooper.
“Don’t you want a fresh start where you can be whomever you want to be?”
I spin the ring around my finger and shift my weight to my other foot, refusing to accept that I need to change who I am as a condition to having a better life.
He sighs at my lack of a response. “If you want the life your parents chose, that’s fine. I’m not going to stop you. If you don’t want that, then you’re going to have to make some changes. Nobody here can tell just by looking at you that you came from the motorcycle club world, but these people won’t accept you if you keep dating a guy like that. I don’t want him around here or the house, so make a decision.”
I close my eyes to press the restart button. He has done so much for Cooper and me that he absolutely didn’t need to. What is my problem? Why can’t I just be grateful and respect their world? “Sorry, Uncle Blaine.”
“It’s okay. Just don’t let it happen again.” He turns and reaches his arm forward to open the door. “Are you coming?”
“Um, I need some fresh air if that’s okay.”
He nods without looking at me and steps back into the country club. The rumble of Aiden’s bike gets quieter as he speeds away. I had no idea he was even thinking about marriage, let alone saving for a ring. The diamond is so beautiful, but I can’t wear it here. To avoid a million questions from Auntie Elizabeth, I slide it off and tuck it into the tiny zippered pocket in the lining of my purse before heading back inside.
A drink would be good right about now.
Nobody is watching the booze behind the bar, so I steal a bottle of whiskey and skirt around the edge of the ballroom. The only private spot I can find is outside on the balcony that overlooks the golf course and a forest.
It’s too dark to see what kind of trees they are, but since the inner city neighborhood where I grew up only had concrete playgrounds and school fields where people let their dogs crap, I wouldn’t know a pine from a cedar anyway. I can, however, confirm with absolute certainty that the woods-scented air freshener from the gas station does not in any way resemble the real thing.
The first swig from the bottle makes me cough. The next one goes down smoother and calms the emotions swirling in my stomach. The burn of the alcohol surges through my bloodstream and my arms and legs start to tremble. It is the same shaking I get before I go onstage. Deep breaths usually help, but they’re not helping right now. With my next inhale I catch a whiff of something I recognize. Maybe I don’t know anything about nature, but I do know that smell. Either someone just lit up, or there’s a resident skunk on the golf course.
When I squint, I can make out the outline of a guy sitting on the railing of the balcony. A pothead wearing a suit. They keep my family in business, so I knew they existed, but I’ve never seen one before.
“Getting shitfaced at your first event isn’t going to look good on the membership application,” he quips.
“I have connections. My uncle’s the president of the club.” I take another gulp. The alcohol is making me feel more like myself, which isn’t a good thing since my mouth is likely to get me in trouble. I resist the urge to say more, but it lasts all of five seconds. “I hope you have connections, too, because smoking up probably doesn’t look that good either.”
“It’s medicinal.” He chuckles. “I’m already a member, but if I weren’t I would be able to earn some compassionate votes.”
He thinks he’s hilarious, and is obviously bullshitting, so I shoot back, “Oh? So, you’re dying of cancer?”
“Something like that.”
Not finding him particularly funny, I say, “That’s too bad.”
I chug more whiskey and cough again. He doesn’t say anything, but it seems like he’s staring at me. He can spare the judgment, or the ogling, whichever one is the cause for the scrutiny.
Once the effects of the alcohol kick in fully, I throw the bottle, along with the rest of its contents, over the railing, assuming it will land on the grass of the golf course. Instead, it smashes on the concrete below. Oops. The sound makes me cringe a little before I attempt to strut toward the door. So much for my smooth exit.
“You don’t have to leave. I was just joking.”
Joking about cancer, drugs, and my lack of suitability for country club membership. Not exactly amusing. I keep walking.
“Tienne,” he calls after me.
I stop, curious how he knows my name, and also because I need a second to steady myself. I turn to face him and strain to recognize his face. “Do I know you?” I ask.
He laughs and lifts the joint to his lips, still only a silhouette. “Don’t you remember? Our eyes met from across the room and you were totally coming on to me.”
I roll my eyes to blow him off, whether he can see me in the dark or not. Then I walk away. Even if I were single, he’d have to step up his game significantly. He’d also have to get a tattoo. And a bike. Not that I’m interested. Because I’m not.
C
hapter Three
Inside the country club, the band screeches out notes that don’t seem to go together. Only one elderly couple—likely too deaf to hear the music—dances. Everyone else stands well clear of the speakers. Cooper and Sam are still talking. It looks as if they’re hitting it off. I don’t want to interrupt, so I search for Elizabeth. The whiskey has made my legs numb and the four-inch heels are impossible to walk in. Eventually, I give up and lean against a marble pillar.
Elizabeth finds me instead. “Tienne, there you are.” She clutches my arm for balance. “I’ve had a little too much wine. I need you to drive the Mercedes home and I’ll get a ride with Blaine.”
“Uh, that’s probably not a good idea.” Now we are both leaning against the pillar. Good thing it’s here.
“Why?”
“Hmm.” I stare up at the crystal chandelier, searching for a reason other than that I stole and chugged a bottle of top-shelf booze. “Because I don’t drive stick.”
“It’s an automatic.”
I remove my shoes for safety. “I don’t remember the way.”
“Yes you do.”
“I didn’t bring my glasses?” It comes out more like a question than an answer.
“You don’t wear glasses.” She frowns and leans in to smell my breath. “Where did you get alcohol?”
“The bar. It was the easiest thing. I just walked right up and helped myself. I don’t know about this club of yours.” I shake my head, mockingly at first, until I realize that maybe they don’t lock up the booze because they usually deny entrance to bottle-stealing people like me.
“Cut it out.” She almost manages to sound annoyed. “If you don’t want to be here just say you don’t want to be here and go do what you want to do.”
I sigh and look around the room. “What’s the point of trying? The people here won’t accept me once they find out how I grew up.”
“Just be yourself and let them judge you based on who you are now, not who you were. It takes time. You’ve only been here for an hour and a half. Have some patience.”
I exhale and close my eyes. Who I am now is still who I was then. I’m just standing in a different room. A way nicer room. If I learn how to fit in to this world it would definitely set me apart from my mom. Unfortunately, it would also set me apart from everything else in my life. “Eighteen is too young, right?”