“So, Maddie’s birthday is coming up and my parents are having a party for her in a few weeks. It’s totally casual, nothing fancy. Everyone hangs out in the yard near the pool,” I ramble. I don’t want the fact that it’s a couple weeks away to freak him out. He says he wants to spend time with me now, but we barely know each other. We may not even be seeing each other by the time the party comes around. “Would you want to go with me?”
“Yes,” Austin says without hesitation.
The knots in my stomach uncoil. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely,” he repeats before squeezing me to his side. “I want to spend every free second with you, Liz.”
“I want that, too,” I say honestly. It doesn’t seem needy or suffocating. I know Austin has his own life. I know he’s not really sitting by his phone waiting for me. But I like knowing that when we do have time, we’ll spend it together. It gives me something to look forward to.
A rush of relief washes over me. Maybe we can make this work. Maybe we can learn to be with each other despite the barriers. “Barriers” being my family and all the superficial reasons they won’t accept him at first. They’ll hate his tattoos. They’ll think he has no ambition—because they won’t know how hard he works. They’ll judge him for not going to college. They’ll lift their noses at the neighborhood where he grew up. Petty things that have nothing to do with a person’s character. Once they get to know him and see how amazing and driven he is they’ll see beyond the things they originally hated about him. They’ll learn to accept him for who he is.
At least that’s the happily-ever-after in the utopian world in my head. My family isn’t as open. They tend to only mix with people they know and feel comfortable with. That’s the drawback of parents who actually believe having money makes them better than other people. I wish they were different.
Instead of being honest about not wanting to pursue relationships with the people in my social circle, I’ve used my career as an excuse for not falling in love. Emily already crushed their dreams for her—but she completely broke away, and I don’t want to do that. Maddie won’t be breaking any molds anytime soon. She’s been dating a narcissistic asshole for years because he’s the son of one of Daddy’s closest business partners. It’s a match made in upper-class heaven.
When did I stop believing in love and start accepting arranged marriages?
Maybe Austin isn’t the person they would have selected for me, but I’m hoping they can get past those judgments and see him for the amazing human he is.
7
Austin
When Liz asked me to attend her sister’s birthday party with her, I hid my trepidation and gave her a yes without hesitation. I wanted to give the relationship a real chance, rather than limit it with my insecurities. But I’d be a complete liar if I said I haven’t been sick-to-my-stomach stressed-out, thinking about it over the last couple weeks.
Things with Liz and I have been absolutely awesome. She works a ton of hours at the hospital and I’ve been busy planning the tour, but we’ve been able to meet up for dinner and drinks and sleepovers. I love spending time with her. Every time we hang out, she surprises me with something quirky and nerdy—like her knowledge of music. I didn’t expect her to introduce me to new artists, but I’ve created a huge playlist of bands that weren’t even on my radar.
There’s nothing pretentious about Liz as a human being. She’s down-to-earth and silly. Smart, without being awkward or a know-it-all. She’s kind to everyone she comes in contact with. And she has fifty million things going on, yet handles it with ease.
We’ve kept our relationship fairly low-key, getting to know each other before bringing other people into our bubble. Today will be the first time I meet her family and friends. I don’t want the Commons’ lifestyle; I don’t care what they think about me—but it doesn’t mean that I’m not sweating bullets as my cab gets closer and closer to the house. I know what everyone at this party will think of me before I even step on the property.
Eastover. Of course, the Commons live in Eastover, Charlotte’s wealthiest neighborhood. And I’m talking old money—not new money. The people here aren’t keeping up with the Joneses—they are the Joneses—the families who have run Charlotte for generations. They set the tone for all the wannabes living off credit cards.
A tightness builds in my chest, knowing I’ll be on defense all night. I glance down at the artwork covering every inch of my arms. I don’t regret a single piece—in theory. There are a few drunken designs I’ll get covered someday, but in general, I love my ink and never think about a life without it. As widely accepted as tattoos are today—they aren’t accepted by the wealthy, Southern boys’ club. And that’s the firing squad I’m throwing myself in front of today.
The car pulls up in front of a sprawling home with an immaculate yard. I don’t know anything about architecture styles, but with the white-brick, multiple two-story columns, and a third-level wrought-iron balcony, it looks like someone picked it out of New Orleans’s French Quarter and dropped it on a street in Charlotte.
“You want me to drive you up?” the driver asks, eyeing the two driveways. They’re not necessarily circular, more U-shaped. I can tell that you go up one side to get to the house and down the other side to leave, but I don’t want him to have to navigate the pristine Beemers and Benzes parked along the route.
“No, thanks. I’ll walk,” I say and slide out of the car.
As I trek up the driveway that seems to go on for miles, I envision playing a show on the balcony. How fucking awesome would it be to fill the front lawn with friends and family, maybe do some giveaways for our fans to be there?
When I reach the door, I press the doorbell and wait. Within a few seconds, an older woman in an immaculate cream-colored dress opens the door, greeting me with a radiant smile. That smile falters slightly as she examines me. “Can I help you?”
The similarities in her facial features tell me that this woman is Liz’s mom, which throws me off my game. I wasn’t expecting the lady of the house to answer the door. I thought they’d have a maid or something.
“Yeah, hi! I’m here for Maddie’s party. Liz invited me.”
The woman’s smile falters a bit, yet she keeps it together as she speaks. “She invited you?”
“Yeah. Yes,” I correct myself, feeling like the lead character in that Sandra Bullock movie Mom made me watch with her a million times. The one where she’s trying to become a proper lady for the Miss United States contest. “As her guest. We’re”—I pause—“dating.”
I’m not sure if that was the right thing to say because I don’t know what—or if—Liz told her family about us. I can’t imagine she was going to introduce me as a friend. A girl like her doesn’t bring a friend like me to one of these parties.
Her eyes widen, yet that smile stays plastered. “Of course. Austin, right?” She takes a step back. “Please come in. I’ll grab Elizabeth.”
“Thank you.” I step into the largest home I’ve ever entered in my life. The foyer alone is bigger than the entire living room at Mom’s house. The collared shirt I borrowed from Nelson, which was already too tight because our frames are so different, now feels suffocating.
As my eyes dart from the spotless, white marble floors, under my feet, to the obscenely ornate glass chandelier, hanging above my head, my shoulders start to tighten. There aren’t many situations where I feel uncomfortable, not because I’m some guru of awesomeness, but mainly because I try not to put myself in situations where I’d feel that way.
I definitely feel awkward here and I haven’t even reached the party yet.
Finally, after what seems like hours, Liz appears radiant and delicious in a flowing, sleeveless sundress made of taupe gauze-like fabric. It hugs the upper half of her body, creating a deep V on her chest before wrapping around her tiny waist. The long skirt has a huge slit that shows off her gorgeous tanned legs with each step she takes toward me. My dick presses against my shorts.
How the fuck did I get this lucky?
“I’m so glad you’re here!”
She falls into my arms and presses her mouth on mine. Her lips part immediately, allowing our tongues to tangle softly. I’ll never get tired of being greeted like that.
When I let go, Liz backs up a bit. “You look absolutely stunning,” I say.
Her cheeks flush which makes my heart soar, but then she casts her gaze to the floor, and a pang of sadness hits. It’s unfortunate that my compliments make her feel awkward. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and has the heart of a saint. How could her previous boyfriends not make her feel like a goddess every day? How could they say they loved her or wanted to be with her without ever truly appreciating her?
“Thank you.”
“I thought it was a pool party,” I say tentatively. I’m not trying to make her feel bad, but she’s standing before me in a gorgeous dress and I’m in black board shorts and a black-and-white-striped, collared shirt.
“Are you wearing—” She scans my outfit. “You look great. I didn’t even realize those were swim trunks.”
Her approval puts me at ease. “Cool.”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here. I’ve known most of these people for years, yet I’m on edge around them. When Mama said you were here, a sense of calmness came over me. Thank you.”
“I’m here for you, babe. I like being your calm. I appreciate that you trust me enough to let me be that for you.”
“Ready?” she asks, squeezing my hand.
“Let’s do this.” I create a half circle with my arm and she loops hers through.
Liz guides me through the magnificent house, to the back door, which leads to a humongous, meticulously landscaped yard, complete with a massive in-ground pool. This yard could be a city park.
When Liz and I walk out together, arm-in-arm, every head turns. Don’t get me wrong, I knew that would happen, because people always look when a new person enters a party. And it’s hosted by the Commons, so it makes total sense that partygoers would turn to see who Liz enters with.
I also knew that there would be staring—and not in the good way like when people stare at me while I’m on stage. I honestly don’t expect one fucking person here to recognize me from my band. They just know that I am an extremely tatted-up dude who doesn’t seem to belong.
There’s staring, then there are side-mouthed conversations while keeping their gazes on Liz and I. Maybe I’m overreacting, letting social anxiety get the best of me. I’m projecting my own insecurity onto them and I need to stop.
“Do you mind if we hit up Maddie first?” I say in Liz’s ear. “I want to say Happy Birthday before this party gets crazy.”
Liz laughs. “Of course!”
We cross the yard until we’re standing near the pool in a group gathered around Maddie. All eyes are on the birthday girl as she tells a story, confirming the things Liz has already told me about her sister—the life of the party—the socialite. She’s very comfortable in the spotlight.
“Austin! I’m so glad you made it!” Maddie stops her story to give me a hug. I wasn’t expecting that kind of greeting since I’ve never met her before. I honestly didn’t know what she thought about me. Maybe this party won’t be as bad as I thought.
“Absolutely. Happy Birthday!” I say when she releases me.
“Who’s this?” says a guy in a seersucker suit. No joke. That super-douchey light blue-and-white pinstripe pattern that only rich bros think is cool. I often wonder if guys who wear it do it as a joke—like, they know how lame it is, and that’s why they do it. Nope.
“This is Austin! He’s from that band Emily took us to see a few weeks back. Remember I told you about him?”
I hold my hand out to shake his, but he just stares at it. In my circle of friends, I’d be flattered at how hard he’s studying the ink artwork that covers it, but this dude is inspecting it like I rubbed my palm with rat crap before extending it to him.
Instead of giving him another second of my time, I drop my hand and turn back to Maddie. “This is a beautiful party. Thanks so much for having me.”
Maddie ignores her rude male friend and addresses me again. “Liz said that you’re playing the Atlanta Music Fest. That’s so exciting, Austin!”
Knowing that my girl has been talking to her family about me fills my heart with pride. Knowing that she’s been telling her family about me shows me that she really is all in for our relationship. “Yeah, it’s our first big festival. We’re super-stoked about it.”
“Austin’s band has that song Open Your Heart on the radio. I know some of you guys have heard it.”
“Two songs on the radio,” Liz chimes in, glancing at me with a proud smile.
I appreciate her building me up, but insecurity nags at me. They’ve brought up all of my major musical accomplishments within the first minute just to get the people in this group interested in me. It feels icky, like when I’m talking to the suits from a record label.
Almost as if they have to prove that I deserve to be here. Just existing as a human being doesn’t cut it for this party.
“We’re very grateful for our recent success. The satellite-radio listeners rally hard core for us.” Sweat rolls down my back, which makes me realize I’m not as at ease as I thought I was. I survey the yard, looking for the closest exit or safe spot. Oh look! There’s a bar near the door out.
“Any money to be made in music, Austin? All I hear is how hard it is to make a living doing that. There’s quite a few ‘starving’ artists in the industry, right?” seersucker suit asks. I still don’t know his name, nor do I care.
“I guess it’s like any industry—if you’re good at it, work your ass off, and have a business plan, you can make it work.”
“A business plan? You have a business plan?” he asks.
Fuck me for adding that part about a business plan just to get this douchebag to realize that I’m not stupid, despite my lack of a diploma from some overpriced university. I don’t owe him any kind of explanation.
And fuck me twice for sweating while answering his question. Why do I let him get to me?
“Anyone in business for themselves should have some sort of plan, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I do. I’d be interested to hear what you found from your competitive analysis and what kind of marketing strategies you derived to distinguish yourself from your competitors in the industry. Knowing that is important for success, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Austin!” A familiar voice calls from behind me. Emily runs up and grabs my hand, pulling me away from the group—and Liz.
“Why do you have to be so rude, Trent?” Maddie says. “You’re going to ruin my party treating guests like that.”
“Don’t you dare try to blame me, Madeline. You’re the one who allowed someone like him to attend your precious party. If it’s ruined, it’s your fault,” Seersucker Suit says in a sharp tone, loud enough for all to hear.
Wow. Way to embarrass the woman of the hour.
“How’s your fellowship going, Liz?” I hear another person in the group ask as Emily whisks me farther away.
“I saved you!” Emily says once we’re away from the group.
“I could’ve held my own, Em. I actually do have a business plan—and I understand it, too.” Technically, I do have a business plan, thanks to the business class I was on my way to the night I found Liz in the accident. I’m not saying I follow the plan to a tee, but we have one.
“No, you couldn’t,” she says and quickly follows up with, “and I don’t mean that as an insult to you. Even if you answered with something intelligent, Trent would keep coming at you until he slammed you. That’s what he does when he feels challenged by someone he doesn’t feel is on his level.”
“I wasn’t challenging—” I begin to protest.
“You know that. I know that. But we’re talking about the poster child for white privilege. He wants to embarrass you to put you in your place,” she says,
using air quotes. “It’s not all of them, believe me. Trent is just a special breed of douche.”
I glance back at the group, where Liz listens and nods with a polite smile plastered on her lips. “Is Maddie dating him?”
“Unfortunately. And he treats everyone like that. He’ll even challenge Daddy.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah. I don’t know how Maddie even puts up with him. He treats her like crap, too.”
Conversations with Emily are as different as night and day than those with Liz. Em’s mouth runs a mile a minute with zero filter.
“So what’s the lure? Why stay with him? She seems like she has a bright personality.”
“His father is the owner of Anderson Architecture, the company that designs all of Daddy’s stores. It’s an exclusive contract.”
“Ahhhh! The exclusive contract,” I joke. I guess that’s a wealthy businessman’s version of pissing on something to mark their territory.
“Come on, let’s go get drinks. It’ll make this party bearable.”
A drink is exactly what I need to loosen up a bit. I follow Emily toward a bar set up near the entrance to the house.
“Two Jack and Cokes, please,” she orders for us. “Oh, and Maria, can you put them in pint glasses, please?”
The bartender nods and grabs two glasses from under the bar. “Of course, Miss Emily.”
“Did Hugo ever call to schedule his appointment? I’m stoked to do that portrait piece on him.”
“He did,” Maria says as she pours whiskey into one glass. “But he said you have a long wait list.”
“Oh shit! Yeah, I do. I’ll tell Syd to put him on my list of people who get called when a spot opens in my schedule—like if someone cancels or I decide to come in on a day off.”
OPEN YOUR HEART: Material Girls 1 Page 9