by Cassie Cross
“This is true.” She sighs. “I really miss New York.”
“You could always come back home.” I’m not trying to send her on a guilt trip, but I wouldn’t mind having her closer. She knows this, it’s not new information.
Corinne furrows her brow. “I like California. Sun, almost perpetual summertime, fresh produce all-year long. No way.”
“Can’t blame me for trying. School’s going well?”
“So far, yeah. My professors are all pretty great. I didn’t read a single syllabus that struck fear into my heart like last semester.” Corinne looks down at something, and I can hear the rustle of her sheets.
Unfortunately for her, I’m aware of all her little tics, and pulling on the corner of her sheets is one of them. She’s got something on her mind. I’m not sure whether I should ask her, or give her the time and space to bring it up on her own. Ever since Mom and Dad got arrested, I’ve been worried about Corinne. She’s completely resilient, but I want to ease the burden of this in whatever way that I can. I just can’t do that unless she tells me what the burden is.
“I read about what you did yesterday,” she tells me. She’s still fumbling with the sheets, refusing to meet my eyes even though we’re thousands of miles away from each other. “What you said in front of the reporters.”
I square my shoulders, and sit up straight. I’m not sure why her comment puts me on edge, but it does. I feel like I have to be ready to defend myself. “I’m not going to let them bring your name into this, Corinne. They don’t get to talk about you, and insinuate that you had anything to do with Mom and Dad’s lies. Besides, I got a talking to from Nancy about it, anyway.”
Corinne grins. “Good. I don’t want you being stupid on my account.”
“Who else would I be stupid for?” I frame it like a question, but really, she’s the only person in my life that I’d put myself on the line for the way that I have.
She sighs, and rolls her eyes. When she finally looks at me, I can see that she’s touched, but also a little annoyed.
“You know what I mean, Marisa. Your career is going well, the brand is taking off. I see people tweeting about it all the time. Don’t do anything that messes that up, okay?”
Ah, the brand. The website, the lifestyle products…everything I worked so hard for and was proud to put my name on. Everything that my father deemed frivolous and wasteful and embarrassing to our family name. The brand that I hired Nancy to ensure was completely untouched by this goddamned scandal. I’ve never been so glad that in a moment of youthful, spiteful independence, I went out and got a loan for the startup cash, refusing to touch my trust fund or my savings. It was built on money that hadn’t ever been touched by either one of my parents. We had fought about that, but it ended up being the best decision I’ve ever made, in retrospect.
And Corrine wants to make sure that I don’t do anything stupid to jeopardize it.
“I just want you to have a normal life, Cor. I don’t want your name in the newspapers, and I don’t want anyone alleging you did anything as stupid and wrong as Mom and Dad did.”
“I’m fine,” she assures me. “It’s just a few photographers and some reporters yelling things at me on campus sometimes. It’s nothing that I can’t handle. Besides, the bodyguard you hired that you think I don’t know about keeps most of the trouble at bay.”
I take a deep breath, and give her what is probably an incredibly sheepish, guilty look. The girl is so smart, I should’ve known that she’d figure it out sooner rather than later. What she doesn’t know is that there’s more than one person. I have a whole team looking after her.
“I’m not going to apologize for doing that, if that’s what you’re wanting from me.”
Corinne smiles. “Not looking for an apology at all. I just wanted to let you know that I know that you did it.”
“Good.” In the moment that follows, I bite my lip and make a decision. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
“You know. Of course you know.”
And…she’s messing with her sheets again.
“Of course I do,” I reply. “So. Spill.”
“It’s silly.” Corinne shakes her head, and pushes a fall of her curly blonde hair over her shoulder.
“If it’s bothering you, it’s not silly.”
She sighs, and leans forward. “Do you remember my eleventh birthday party? The one where mom and dad basically rented out that water park?”
I was sixteen, and thought I was entirely too cool for a kid’s birthday celebration. Corinne had begged me to get on a waterslide with her, and giving in to her resulted in one of my favorite pictures of the two of us. I have it just across my bedroom, framed on top of my dresser: me wrapped around Corrine, the two of us soaking wet and screaming as we dart out of the bottom of the slide, and into a giant wading pool.
“I remember,” I say, although I can’t quite figure out what’s got her thinking about that day nearly ten years ago now. “What about it?”
She shrugs. “I can’t stop wondering if someone else’s kid didn’t get to have a day like that because of what Mom and Dad did.”
Oh. Corinne’s kind heart and thoughtful soul still manage to catch me off guard sometimes. I take a moment to think about the right answer to her question; one that will be honest but still put her at ease.
“Cor, Mom and Dad stole money from incredibly rich people over a long period of time. They skimmed off the top for decades, so that no one would figure out what they were doing. Mom and Dad did a shitty thing, but I don’t think anyone went without because of it.” If there’s any silver lining in this situation, it’s that our parents didn’t bilk poor people out of their hard-earned money, although at this point I wouldn’t put it past them. I think my mother and father are capable of things that Corinne and I could never dream of. These past couple of months have proven that.
Corrine gives me this skeptical look, like she really wants to believe me, but she can’t quite let herself do it.
“They did have their own money,” I remind her. “You know Gran and Pop were rich.” Mom and Dad just squandered that money away on bad investment after bad investment and who knows what else. Then they took to stealing to make up for it.
She nods. “Okay.”
I’m relieved that she doesn’t need any more assurances.
“I’m going to pay you back for my tuition.”
“What? No you’re not.” I paid her most recent tuition bill, because she’s not going to attend college paid for with stolen money.
“Marisa-”
“No. You’re going to study hard, and you’re going to graduate. You’re going to do great things, and make people forget that our parents are shitty, lying thieves.”
“Okay.” She reluctantly smiles. “I think I can accept those terms.”
It’s not like she has any choice in the matter. “Good.”
“And how are things for you?”
I shrug. “Can’t complain.”
Corinne raises her brow, and I know that she doesn’t believe me, but she isn’t going to call me out on it. I like playing the protector where she’s concerned, and she’s very gracious about humoring me with that.
“The Murphy Building thing is this weekend, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I nod. I’ve been working on putting this benefit together for months now. Now that my name is in the press for something my parents did, a few of the ladies who lunch want to kick me off the board and take my name off of anything pertaining to the benefit.
I care about the building and its restoration too much let them get away with that.
“I take it they weren’t successful in removing you?”
“No,” I reply with a smirk. “They were not.”
There isn’t a chance in hell that I’m going to let them erase me from this, not when it was my idea. Not when I did the hard work to make it happen. I’m going to walk into that benefit with my head held high.
Co
rinne smirks at me, reminding me of the young woman that she was before this whole scandal came to light. Defiant, smart, and carefree. It’s a smirk that makes me glad I stood up to these women. It makes me want to make Corinne proud.
“Give ‘em hell. And report back to me after.”
That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.
CHAPTER FOUR
“This turnout is pathetic,” Mitzi Vandergraff says, as she surveys said pathetic crowd. She’s the only person I know who manages to look simultaneously elegant and, well…like a complete bitch. Her arms are crossed over the (probably) hand-beaded bodice of her couture gown, as she rolls her eyes. “I was right to want you off the board, Marisa. They wanted to keep you to spare your feelings.” She sweeps her perfectly manicured hand toward the other architectural board members standing to our right, who look just as worried about the turnout as I feel. “But I told them it was a terrible idea.”
“Luckily you never worry about sparing anyone’s feelings,” I reply dryly. The sentiment isn’t as cutting as it could be considering she’s absolutely right.
I told Corinne that I was going to come in here and give ‘em hell, but all the fight is draining from me. The me-against-the-world attitude that’s been keeping me going lately has all but fizzled out. For the first time since my parents’ scandal broke, I feel defeated.
Not wanting to stand in Mitzi’s judgmental presence for a second longer than I have to, I excuse myself to mingle. I walk through the crowd, looking for a friendly face, for an opening to a conversation. Anything.
I’m hit hard by this low attendance. Usually at events like this, the din of the crowd drowns out the ambient music, but the six-piece orchestra is loud and clear tonight.
This fundraiser is a dud, as much as it pains me to admit it. What hurts even more is that it’s all my fault.
Why didn’t I just step down? Being a Blake is social poison right now, and if it wasn’t for my pride…
“Marisa?” asks a familiar voice, as the hand belonging to the owner of that voice rests on my forearm.
I turn and see Caleb Simmons. He’s one of Ben’s best friends, and someone that I considered to be a good friend of mine, too, once upon a time. We only ever talk to each other once in a while. Not very often at all since Ben and I broke up.
That’s one of the things that makes breakups even worse, I think. The divvying up of possessions and friendships. When Ben and I were together, Caleb and I were pretty close. After the breakup, we’re really nothing more than cordial acquaintances.
I knew I could count on him to show up tonight, despite the scandal attached to my rapidly devaluing last name. He’s just that kind of guy.
“Hi!” If I’m a little over-enthusiastic, can you blame me? His is the first friendly face I’ve seen all night.
Caleb gives me a warm smile, one that I remember him wearing so often when we first met. He opens his arms to me and I go in for a hug.
“How are you?” I ask, my voice muffled against his shoulder.
“I’m doing well,” he replies. I can tell that his answer is sincere, and he’s not just putting me on, like some people who run in our circle have a tendency to do. Hesitantly he asks, “And you?”
I offer him a half-hearted smile and a shrug. “Been better, but you probably know that. Tonight certainly isn’t helping.” I gesture to the room around me, still looking about as pathetic as Mitzi said it was, all things considered.
“You know what? Fuck ‘em.” Caleb tips back a sip of champagne, and I can’t help but laugh. It’s a shame that everything that happened between Ben and me strained things between me and Caleb, because I’ve missed him. He always did know how to make me look on the bright side of things, even where his best friend’s shitty behavior was concerned.
“Hey,” I say, leaning in close so that no one will overhear me. “My parents didn’t…you know?” I can’t bring myself to outright ask him if my parents stole from him, although I have to know.
“No.” His brows furrow together as he considers his words. “Your father contacted my secretary a few times, but—no offense—I never took any of his meetings.”
A wave of relief washes over me, and I let out a long exhale. “Thank god. No offense taken. That’s probably shaping up to be one of your better business decisions, don’t you think?”
“Marisa…”
He has this look on his face that most people get when I try to make light of the situation, but it’s the only way I know how to deal with this. “It’s okay. I know joking about it makes it awkward, but I’m not really sure how to deal with it otherwise.”
Caleb nods; I know he understands. There was a time when he knew me well enough to understand my coping mechanisms, and it looks like that knowledge has carried over through the years. He knows exactly where I’m coming from.
“So, what have you been up to? Ben filled me in on the mini empire you’re building,” he says casually. “He said you have a new site up and running. I checked it out earlier. The functionality is amazing. My girlfriend loves it.”
I’m sure my mouth is hanging open, because he just casually dropped a Ben bomb and then moved right along with the conversation. I’m having trouble processing the information. Ben is aware of what I’ve been doing with my business? He knows about my site?
“Ben…” I can’t quite figure out what I want to say next, or which question out of the thousands that are floating through my mind I should ask first. I settle on, “What?”
“Caleb!” Mitzi sidles up right in between us.
Caleb schools the exasperated irritation that flashes across his face in a second. “It’s so good to see you! I’m glad you decided to come despite the…” she shoots me a dirty look, her perfectly lined beady little eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “Circumstances.”
With a tight smile, Caleb says, “It’s a pleasure to come out and support a cause that my friend is so passionate about.”
Mitzi preens under Caleb’s compliment, and the sight of it turns my stomach.
“And,” Caleb continues as he steps to the side, “I was in the middle of talking to that friend, so if you’ll excuse me.”
If I could bottle up the look of undignified horror on Mitzi’s face as she realizes that Caleb has just dismissed her, I’m pretty sure I could live off of it for a year.
She walks off, scandalized, and I just want to hug Caleb again.
“Thank you,” I say gratefully, as I grab a flute of champagne off of the tray of a waiter passing by.
“My pleasure.” He grins in that playful way I remember, whenever he, Ben, and their other friend Oliver were up to something. “I know she was pushing to have you removed from the committee.”
I furrow my brow. “How did you know that?”
“Ben filled Oliver in on it, and they, in turn, told me. Oh.” He pats at his breast pocket. “Oliver couldn’t come, but he sent me with a check.”
I smile. “Thank you. And I’ll be sure to thank him, too. But…Ben. How did Ben know about the committee? How did Ben know about my site, and-”
“Hey.” A pretty brunette in a stunningly gorgeous dress slings her arm around Caleb’s, and he beams down at her like she’s the sun.
“Hey there.” He gives her a kiss, followed by this dopey little grin. It’s such a far cry from the detached, closed-off guy that I knew in college that the whole exchange takes me back a bit. Still, I can’t help but smile at them. They’re one of those disgusting couples who just radiate bliss.
Apparently they’re also one of those couples who forget about the world around them when they’re around each other, because it takes Caleb about a full minute to remember that there are other people in the room.
He shakes his head, remembering himself.
“Marisa, this is Mia, my girlfriend. Mia,” he says purposefully, giving a pointed nod in my direction, “this is Marisa.”
Mia’s whole face lights up at the mention of my name; she reaches out and enthusiastica
lly shakes my hand. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she says. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Caleb clears his throat, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was warning her to be quiet, probably to keep her from telling me everything that she’s heard about me. Which…why is she hearing things about me, exactly? I feel like I’m in some kind of twilight zone.
Ben—ex-boyfriend Ben, serial cheater and breaker of my heart Ben—is reading up on me? He’s following my life and my work and telling his friends about it?
Mia must get a sense that I’m about to barrage her with questions. “Caleb told me a lot about you,” she hedges, even though I know it’s a lie. She’s so sweet I don’t call her out on it. “You two knew each other in college?”
I nod, then take a sip of my champagne. “We did, and I somehow lived to tell the tale.”
Mia and Caleb let out a chuckle, then Mia looks a bit wistful. “I would’ve liked to have known Caleb back then.”
“I don’t know if this will disappoint you or make you happy, but I don’t have any scandalous stories about him. Caleb was always the perfect gentleman when I was around.”
Mia narrows her eyes at me like she doesn’t believe me, but I’m telling her the truth. Caleb treated me better than Ben ever did, often times sticking around in the aftermath of a breakup, offering me a pint of mint chip and a shoulder to cry on.
“Did Caleb tell you that Oliver couldn’t make it tonight?” Mia asks.
I nod.
Caleb laughs. “I told you I wasn’t going to forget.”
Mia shrugs. “I just wanted to make sure. Ben should be here any second,” she says, scanning the crowd. “I told him not to be late, but he’s late.”
I invited him, so the fact that he’s coming isn’t a complete surprise, but knowing that his appearance is imminent makes my heart skip a beat.
I’m not sure I want to examine the reason for that too closely.
“Marisa,” Caleb starts, and I know for sure that I don’t want to hear what he’s going to say. I have a feeling that it’s going to be exactly what I don’t want to hear: that Ben’s changed, that he really means it this time, that he wants to give us another shot. “Look, about Ben…”