by Anna Antonia
“Why else do you think I kicked the shit out of Carter? Because I have to deal with her every day! Dealing with Lucy is the same as dealing with you. Since I can’t hit her nor you, well, good old Carter had to take the beating. Feel pity for him considering your role in it.”
Why was he talking like this? Killian couldn’t mean a single word he spewed. That wasn’t the man I spent time with all these weeks. I believed with every part of my being that he wasn’t this hateful of a person.
The combined horror on our faces must’ve been too much. Killian sneered at us and then turned around. “It’s late and I’ve got to wash the stink of jail off me.”
Mr. King’s jaw dropped before snapping shut. Fury gathered around him, misting his entire complexion red. His brows snapped hard and one finger pointed at his grandson’s back.
“You walk out that door, Killian, and I wash my hands of you.”
Killian’s confident gait swayed to the left before righting itself. “You already washed your hands of me a long time ago, Grandfather. Good night to you both.”
He closed the door, soft click hitting harder than if he’d slammed it.
35
KILLIAN
It was over.
I always knew it’d end like this. I always knew I wasn’t ever going to be good enough for Grandfather. Not enough to be a King.
And now Lucy knew it too.
36
LUCY
Killian didn’t come to work. Not that Monday. Not Tuesday. Not Wednesday. Not Thursday. Not Friday. It cycled into the next week. And then the next one.
Everyone knew what happened. I saw it in their stares. Heard it on the winds of their gossip.
I wanted to knock my fist into their dirty mouths and break open all my scabs.
I hadn’t learned a thing.
Mr. Luis and Mr. Victor recognized the animal in me, the rage that had dominated my every waking moment until I’d walked into their bodega and stolen a sandwich. They tamed me once with a full belly and tried it again.
All the food in the world wasn’t making me better.
And yes, I ate like a piglet. It was the only way to keep their questions at bay. As long as I ate their comida, took the food into my mouth, then I couldn’t talk about the awful night I’d driven Killian away from the only family he really had left.
How could Mr. King turn on Killian like that? Why didn’t Killian defend himself? Why didn’t I try harder to speak?
I ate until I had to throw up.
I wasn’t brave at all. I was still a coward, ashamed of my past and terrified that one day someone would find out what I’d been. A criminal. A girl who’d first found her fists were all the weapon she needed until she developed and then found a biological weapon to use against the powerful.
Except I ended up turning it against myself.
Change the channel. Throw the TV out. Bash it with a bat. Smash it straight to hell.
All I had to do was open my goddamned mouth. Say the fucking words. But no. All my mouth was good for was stuffing food inside it. So I stuffed away in all the hours I wasn’t at King Cosmetics.
Which were more than they were before.
Mr. King didn’t accept my resignation. He told me bluntly, “He’ll come back if only to spite me. You have to be here for him when he does. Nothing changes for mi nieto. He’ll get through this tantrum and we’ll go on as before.”
But his grandson didn’t come back. He didn’t answer anyone’s calls. He didn’t answer the door. He didn’t break, but neither did Mr. King.
In the midst of this silent war, I remained at my post like a faithful dog, all in the hopes that soon he’d come back. I wore my ugly shoes and serviceable clothes, using them as a beacon for Killian’s impeccable taste.
I slept with his name on my lips. I awoke with it in my heart. I replayed every moment of our last day together. I cried in the shower because I was supposed to help, but I only made everything worse.
It was my curse. Despite how much I prayed I still ended up being the reason the people I needed went away.
Dad, Mom, Tia Rosa, Tia Christina…Killian.
And I understood it was stupid—no, arrogant—to let myself need Killian King, but I did. I needed him to finish the equation on his whiteboard. I needed him to say my name in that insolent drawl he patented. I needed Killian to tempt me into another secret. To tempt me to abandon my vows and morality.
I needed him to come back.
I’m so lost without you.
Mr. King stayed until ten. Every night. I knew because I was there too. Darkness inspired confidences and I drank them as steadily as Mr. King drank his rum.
“He was such a sweet boy, Miss Lucy. My shadow. Always wanting to do everything in the factory. I didn’t have the heart to tell him his future was always going to take him away from King Cosmetics.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s an aristo. Aristos don’t work. They maintain legacy, heritage. They don’t get their hands dirty selling vulgar makeup.”
Mr. King met my flinch with a rusty laugh.
“Not my words. Those were his father’s. He’s the one who put a stop to Killian’s factory visits.”
“Then why is he here now?”
Mr. King sighed. Ice cubes clinked in his tumbler. “The telling is long.”
“I’ve got nothing but time.”
He coughed out a laugh. “Sí, eso es verdad.”
Yes, it was the truth. Sadly.
He grimaced. “Killian’s father disappeared after he was three. Married life was too confining. Theresa was too confining. She didn’t tolerate infidelity and Peter didn’t tolerate monogamy. I knew they were too different, but I had hoped for my daughter’s sake that they could find something beyond passion.”
Fascinated by the story unfolding, I barely dared to breathe. I didn’t want to risk ripping Mr. King away from his memories.
“Peter took himself off to Europe. They stayed married for another ten years. Long enough for a reunion at the end. That’s how my Timothy was born. But it wasn’t enough to keep them together. Theresa wanted out and Peter was interested in marrying someone from his own set.”
It didn’t take much to see how Killian and his little brother were collateral. I felt sorry for both of them. I wished it could’ve turned out differently.
Mr. King frowned, staring down into his drink. “Killian was Peter’s heir, but he came to me after the papers were signed. He told me of his intention of setting Killian aside once he had a proper heir. I could have him back so he’d have something as inheritance. I took him, but I always knew it wouldn’t end up the way either of us wanted.”
I took that confession like a kick to the head.
Killian isn’t meant to stay here forever. He was always going to go away.
“Did Killian know?”
Mr. King leaned his head back. “Yes. I told him in a fit of fury. I’d give anything to have taken the words back. Mi maldito boca always says the wrong thing. It’s the main reason why my wife left. My vicious tongue. I don’t wonder where Killian gets it from. Yet, I judge him for it.”
When the silence carried on into minutes I dared to ask, “Does Killian have a brother or sister now?”
He shook his head. “His father’s second wife turned out to be…well, it’s not the kind of thing I want to say in front of a lady.”
“Oh.” Chewing my lip, I asked, “Is Killian still the heir?”
Mr. King nodded slowly. Terrible sadness deepened the grooves on either side of his mouth.
Desperate to ease his suffering, I blurted out “Killian loves this place. I mean, he doesn’t say much but he’s always working on formulas. For new colors.”
“I know. He’s developed an anime shade collection. Amethyst, electric blue, neon pink.”
Startled, I looked over to Mr. King.
“What? You don’t think I know what my grandson is doing? I know.”
I saw that beyond their eyes, Killian and Mr.
King even shared the same smirk. It hurt to see it and feel how much I missed it in my direction.
“Then why won’t you let him do the collection? It’s a great idea. I think it’ll work.”
“No.”
“But why?”
Mr. King drew his shoulders up. He became the proud Cuban male whose word was final.
“It’ll tie him further to here. All that I’m working for can’t go to him. Killian can’t be a prince and be in trade. Not if he wants to be accepted in his role. His blood is already a hindrance.”
I glowered along with Mr. King. We both understood the prejudice that came part and parcel with our heritage. Neither of us liked it or believed we were inferior.
“But he wants it, Mr. King. He wants to be a full part of King Cosmetics.”
“I know he does and that’s why I can’t let him. The last time I let one of my own go after what she wanted, it ended in heartbreak. I won’t let Killian go down the same path. I won’t have him having to reap what he sowed. Not again.”
But didn’t he see? The rejection was what brought Killian misery and suffering.
“This could be different. Killian is different.”
“Killian is a spoiled, immature brat who loves to throw a temper tantrum every time he doesn’t get his way. How long before he sets this place on fire when he sees it holds him from his rightful place?”
Ready to rush forward with denials, I paused and really thought it through. Would Killian sink King Cosmetics just because he was angry? He’d already proved he’d throw us all away, right?
Dios mio, but that hurt.
Mr. King didn’t just have Killian and Timothy to think about. He had hundreds of people and their families to carry on shoulders that were buckling beneath the weight of time and stress.
“Killian has a lot of growing up to do, but that’s normal. That’s what our twenties are about. We try, fail, and do things we’ll wish a thousand times we could do over again. But we learn to do better. Killian can do it, Mr. King. He can be a prince and a King. If anyone could do it, it’d be him.”
He snorted. “My grandson’s arrogant enough to try.”
“Reach out to him, Mr. King. Talk to him. He’s waiting for you. I know he is.”
Mr. King’s goodwill fell away. “No. He has to come to me first.”
Exasperated, I bit my tongue. While he shared his feelings, respect dictated I couldn’t tell him how hardheaded he’d become.
“I see the fire in your eyes, Miss Lucy. Tell me your mind.”
Sighing, I crossed my legs at the ankles and stared down at my shoes instead. A humorless smile stamped my mouth. Killian was right. My heels were ugly. Plain imitation leather, easily scuffed, no style. It was good enough for me then.
Not anymore.
Not after experiencing what life could be like when you let pretty things inside.
“Come on,” Mr. King coaxed with gravelly whisper. “I can take it.”
“I don’t want to disrespect you—”
“Imposible. You are the very definition of respect.”
Oh, if you only knew…
That was the problem. Mr. King didn’t know about my past because my records were sealed. But if he knew, if he had any idea the kind of woman he let into his kingdom…
You’d never look at me the same.
“Killian only got into that fight to protect me. I…I got involved when I shouldn’t have and then Killian had to clean up my mess. That’s why you can’t wait for him to come back. Your attack on him was unfair. You didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt and now he believes you’re done with him. Killian won’t come back because he doesn’t think he can.”
My voice broke. The dark room broke beneath the waves. Tears rolled hot down my flushed cheeks. Like a damn broken record, I’d give anything to do that night over again. I didn’t have to react the way I did.
I could’ve just kept my fists to myself. I could’ve dealt with my jealousy and sense of betrayal on my own time. I could’ve walked away from them both.
But no.
I lashed because deep down I believed I wasn’t good enough. That no one would really want me for me. That all a man saw when he looked at me was sex.
That I wasn’t special after all. That Carter was right—I was just a substitute for another woman.
Killian kicked up all my dirt and all those memories I thought I’d made peace with tumbled down like boulders, trapping me in a ring of suffering.
I hate this so much. I wished it would all stop.
Something pressed into my hand. A handkerchief. Mr. King smoothed his fingers down my head before patting my back.
“Oh, Miss Lucy. What have I done?”
Dabbing my eyes, I sniffled and tried to keep the warble out of my voice. I’d finally broke through to Mr. King. He got it. Excitement danced along with grief—like life. Ups and downs.
“It’s not too late. Go to him—”
“No. Not that.”
I didn’t understand.
“You, Miss Lucy. What have I done to you?” When I continued to blink, confused and just out of it, Mr. King said, “You love him.”
The bottom dropped out.
I tried to defend myself, to deny it, because how could that possibly be true? I never loved anyone other than my family, which obviously included Mr. Luis and Mr. Victor. I cared for the kids in the neighborhood. I cared for Mr. King. I cared for everyone I could…but love?
No. Not true. I…I…didn’t. I couldn’t, right?
“Mr. King, I’m sorry if I’ve done something to make you think that, but I don’t.”
I don’t love him.
I couldn’t say the words. They were there, trapped in my throat like an animal, begging to be set free. Yet, I knew what those beasts would charge towards and it wasn’t the lie I desperately clung to.
Mr. King squeezed my shoulder and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Lucy. Really I am.”
I shot out of my chair. “There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s late and I’m tired. My emotions got away from me. That’s all.”
“Miss Lucy, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t bring you here for this to happen.”
The room spun as my heartbeat thrashed in my ears. He couldn’t do it. Not now.
“Mr. King, let me explain.”
He brushed aside my plea with a weary hand. “There’s nothing to explain. I knew the risks when I brought a beautiful girl like you here for him. I knew I was wrong the night this all happened.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. As soon as I saw the jewelry you wore, I knew I was wrong.”
I still had it, tucked away in my drawer and waiting to find a way to give it back to Killian.
Burning red from embarrassment, I rushed to clarify the situation. “He didn’t buy that for me. It was on loan.”
Mr. King’s sad smile undid me. “That was my daughter’s necklace. The earrings too. I bought them for her 21st birthday.”
I had no idea. None whatsoever.
“Miss Lucy, I’m ashamed to say I sacrificed you. I let myself believe you wouldn’t fall for Killian’s face, that you’d see past it.”
Panicked, I shouted, “I’m not that shallow!”
“You like being treated badly then? You like being his errand girl and the bearer of his bad moods?”
Put that way, things didn’t sound any better.
“I’m not compromised, Mr. King. I can still help. I’m not trying to infiltrate your family. You don’t have to worry about me. I know I can’t be a part of it. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Basta, Miss Lucy.”
“Don’t you see? I’m not the kind of woman you think I am!”
“I know you’re not,” he soothed. “I’m not blaming you, Miss Lucy. Óyeme. I’m not. Killian has always had a way with women. It didn’t matter before because they were the kind who could take care of themselves.”
“I don’t need
anyone to take care of me!”
More lies. I’d always needed someone, long before I had a chance to stand on my two feet, but no one was there. But I made it, I survived based on the strength of those lies, and I didn’t care how many more I had to yell or scream.
Mr. King couldn’t turn me out. Not yet!
“I know. You’re strong. You’re a good girl, but I shouldn’t have put you in this kind of position. Forgive me, Miss Lucy, but…”
Everything stopped. My breathing, my tears, my hope.
“You can keep the signing bonus. I’ll have payroll cut you a check for six months salary. Please forgive me and my family for what we’ve done to you.”
He stood in front of me, hand out and solemn expression on his lined face. My heart stuttered back up. There was no point in begging to stay. I didn’t before.
I wasn’t going to start now.
Placing my fingers in his, I found my footing. His gaze searched mine, worry burning a candle, but I wasn’t here anymore. Not really.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done, Mr. King. I wish you and your family many blessings in life.”
I saw his mouth move, but the words didn’t carry meaning.
It was over and I’d been thrown away.
No matter how times I experienced this in life, somehow it never got easier.
One day rejection wouldn’t matter. Today wasn’t that day.
37
KILLIAN
The text came in before eleven.
LUCY’S BEEN LET GO.
Nothing else from Jorge. It was enough.
Grandfather kept her longer than I would’ve thought. Firing Lucy was proof my time at King Cosmetics was done. Over. Finished. Never to fucking return.
Nothing I didn’t see coming.
Still hurts like a motherfucker.
What a waste. All of it. The games I couldn’t play through to the end. The farce of showing up to work, writing those damned formulas as if they’d change anything. As if they’d make Grandfather take me seriously and just let me into his world forever.
Falling back against my bed, I stared at the darkened ceiling. The timing was damned near perfect. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Rafael King moved along as if Mom didn’t exist. Why would I be any different?