by Allen, Dylan
“Skip it?”
“Yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, when you come home, I’ll court you, propose to you, and then, we’ll get married. Then we’ll get our money and we split it and tell this town to kiss our asses and go our separate ways.”
I pick my chin up off the floor and give him an assessing look.
He stands and starts to pace.
“We both know I’m not cut out to run that company. I wasn’t born with my brother’s brains. I need money to make my way in the world. And a chance to do something I’m good at, not what my father wants.” His words come out in a growl.
It’s such an honest assessment of himself that I feel a flicker of respect for him.
“I know the feeling.”
“Listen, we’re in the same boat. You don’t want to be in here. I don’t want to work for your father.”
Encouraged by my nod of agreement, his voice slips into its naturally higher octave as he rushes on excitedly.
“It’s going to be a long game. And you’ve got to get yourself back together before we actually start dating,” he says and watches me expectantly.
“You want to…date me? Like for real?”
“Yes. Why not?” he asks.
“I’m not attracted to you,” I say.
His head jerks slightly. “Well, that’s a first. Especially considering you’ve already fucked me.”
I flush.
“I’m sorry. Things have changed.” I try to soften my rejection.
He relaxes and smiles knowingly. “Okay. We can revisit that when you’re thinking clearly. And in the meantime, we can just pretend.”
This feels like a disaster in the making.
“But, what if we hate each other?”
“Then we do it in the privacy of our own home, out from underneath our parents’ thumbs. And then, after whatever time frame, we can go our separate ways. Each of us free and wealthy.”
Free to live anywhere I want.
All of my dreams and my ambitions scream out to me to say yes. But my mouth can’t form the word.
In the face of my silence, his patience snaps, and he slaps his palms onto the table and leans across the table, putting his face inches from mine.
His eyes are blazing and I shrink back, startled by the sudden shift in his demeanor.
“Duke, back off.”
His expression cools, and he squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them, they’re full of apology.
He sits back down and looks at me earnestly.
“You’re fucked. Your father will find another way to win my father’s favor. I’ll find another heiress with a politically ambitious father. But this is your only way out of here.”
I force myself to meet his stare. My heart is pounding and blood is rushing in my ears as I try to decide what to do.
The decision should be an easy one.
Staying in here will destroy me. And I know my father would do it. My heart aches at the thought of Carter. Why did he turn out to be such a disappointment?
Maybe, this is for the best. I list my reasons in my head.
I need that money for my sister.
I have to get married to access the money.
I will never put my heart in another man’s hands so marriage for love is out of the question.
Therefore, marrying someone willing to collude with me in return for a chance to walk away with half of a whole lot of money?
I look at him with a firm expression.
“I have conditions.”
He nods as if he expected me to say that. “I’m listening,” he says, his voice grave, but he looks like he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s won and he knows it.
“I want to go to art school,” I say.
He shakes his head vigorously.
“Out of the question. Your father won’t let you. Maybe once you’re home for a while and you show him that you’re truly reformed, I can talk him into letting you take online courses.”
I let my bewilderment and skepticism show in the furrows of my forehead and the depth of my frown. “You think that suddenly, you’re going to be able to command my father? Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Your father needs my father’s support. He’ll do almost anything I say, as long as it doesn’t involve you living somewhere else.”
I cross my arms and glare at the him before I turn away and glare at the wall. My eyes drift around the room as I contemplate my options. I take in the speckled white wall and the concrete floors of the windowless room. Right now, being subject to Duke’s goodwill feels like a huge upgrade from this place.
“I want a job. A good one at Wolfe. It doesn’t have to be high up, but it has to be decent enough to allow me to pay my rent and save some money every month.”
“You don’t need to worry about rent. My house is big enough for both of us.”
“I want my own space,” I say, my expression and tone making it clear that this is my red line.
A pleased smile crinkles the corners of his eyes and he nods approvingly.
“Done. Those are reasonable things. And as long as you toe the line, I can get your father to say yes to both of them.” He smiles and I hate the triumph I see there. But, I don’t have any better offers. No one else is looking for me.
“You get to come home, do what he says, make him believe that you’re sorry and ready to cooperate. We’ll start spending time together, sitting together at functions, and then we’ll tell everyone we’re dating. We’ll do this for a few months, then we’ll get engaged. We’ll set a date for a year after that.”
I blanche.
“A year? Why a whole year? Let’s pretend to date for a month, get engaged and then run off to Vegas. Get the clock running ASAP.”
He shakes his head, his smile indulgent, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “This can’t look like anything other than you and me falling in love and getting married. The trust rules are clear, no marriages of convenience or the inheritance will be voided.”
“Oh God.” I groan. Can I pretend to be with him for close to two years?
Yes, I can. I have people who need me.
I stare at him as my decision knits together inside of me.
“So, if I said yes, what would happen next?”
He leans back in his chair.
“You’ll need a makeover. I’d like you blonde. And, I’ll also pick your clothes. I want you dressed a lot more conservatively.”
I squint my eyes in a “say what?” expression. “That’s excessive.”
He shrugs and picks nonexistent lint off the sleeve of his navy-blue blazer.
“That’s my line in the sand. Not a lot to ask, and honestly, it’s what they’ll expect. I wouldn’t date a woman who looked and dressed like you…you used to.” His eyes run over my face and head, and I’m keenly aware that my shorn hair hasn’t exactly grown in straight.
“I’d like to make it look as real as possible.” His hand reaches out to cover mine and his thumb swipes the top of it.
“We should get comfortable being intimate, touching each other, kissing… and who knows?” He raises his eyebrows and his lips curl in a suggestive smile.
Unease prickles and “I-I’m not going to sleep with you,” I say and flush.
He lets go of my hand and reaches across the table to cup my face.
“If you want something, truly want it, you’ll do anything to get it. And spending the next couple of years being who he expects you to be, is a small price to pay for the rest of your life.”
He extends his hand for me to shake.
I feel like I’m standing on a sinking ship. Either way I’m going to end up in the water. If I stay where I am, I will surely drown. But if I jump into the water I’ll be chum for the sharks. My chances of escaping unscathed are slim. But, I’m a pretty good swimmer and unscathed is better than dead.
Either way. It’s time to pay the piper. Carter is a world awa
y and not thinking about me. And even if he were, there’s nothing he could do for me. I feel relieved that I’m finally free of this fantasy I concocted about him.
Mind made up, I put my hand in his.
Just like that, we have a deal.
* * *
When I get back to Winsome, everything is exactly as it was when I left almost six months ago.
Except me.
And I don’t mean because I’m blonde again. As jarring as my change in appearance is to a lot of people, it’s nothing in comparison to what’s happened inside of me.
My father is smug when I return.
I’m happy for the reminder that he has no clue that I’ve already won.
It will mean dancing with the devil and making love to lies, but for the chance to get away from these people, I’ll do it.
The woman I discovered during my time away is the real me. And now I know that whether I’m blonde or brunette, rich or poor, married or single, I’m always strong and tenacious.
I will never stop trying to get free. Not just for myself but for the little girl I already love.
To make sure I don’t lose sight of myself again, the first thing I do when I get home is sketch and then paint the woman I’m working to free.
Those are my eyes that are boldly daring the world to try and tame me. My unyielding jaw, my chin held high, my lips curved in a sensual, knowing smile. My birthmark is uncovered and instead of a stain, it’s become a badge of honor. It’s the thing that saved me from being just like these people. If I’d been born with the misfortune of perfection, if I hadn’t had to prove myself to these people, I might never have known this woman who lives inside me.
I’m not the girl whose parents didn’t love her more than they hated living with each other.
Not a whiff of the Liz whose mother left her to be raised by a man who they call The Wolf.
The woman who lives inside of me is a galaxy of color, light, strength, and power hurtling through space looking for a place to call home. She won’t settle for anything less.
She isn’t afraid of canyonless valleys or undammed rivers.
Or wolves. The only thing that truly scares her is also her motivation—never leaving Winsome, never knowing what other wonders are waiting for me in the world.
When I’m finished with the portrait, I take a picture of the painting with my phone, upload it onto my IG account, then, I cut it into pieces it and throw it away.
It wounds my spirit to destroy my work. My heart breaks at my hand’s traitorous destruction.
I soothe the burn of it with the knowledge that this is all temporary.
I’ve taken control away from my father. Soon, I’ll be able to walk away and I’ll be in a position to make sure my sister has choices that I didn’t.
Once I’m free of these people, I will never let anyone hold a gun to my head again.
21
WIN SOME, LOSE SOME.
CARTER
“My car should arrive at 5:00 p.m. If anyone else calls or stops by, I’m not here.”
“Even your mother?” my doorman asks nervously.
“Especially my mother.”
“Oh…shit,” he mutters and looks over his shoulder in the direction of the door to the management office.
Unease prickles and I start to back away from the reception desk.
“What’s going on?”
The door opens and my mother steps out. Her face is drawn, her eyes are anxious.
I level my doorman with a withering glance. “You’re lucky I like you, man.”
He shrugs, completely unconcerned. “She’s your moms, yo. You should talk to her. Ain’t right. I’d give my right arm to talk to my mother again.”
“Thank you, Paul. And I’m sorry you lost your mother; she obviously got something very right with you.” She puts a hand on her shoulder and then looks at me, hope lighting her eyes.
“Hi honey,” she says, her tone tentative, her smile hopeful as I approach.
“Mom. What are you doing here?” I ask. I know that if something were really wrong, I would have heard from Nadia.
She smiles. “Can we go up to your place, please?”
I only hesitate for a minute and then nod. She falls in step beside me as we walk to the elevators.
We get on the elevator and ride in complete silence to my apartment.
We’re inside. I’ve made coffee and we’re sitting at my dining room table when I finally speak again.
“Why are you here?”
She squeezes her mug so tightly her knuckles turn white.
“Because I miss my son. I know you’re going through things. I was trying to give you space, but when Nadia finally told me what you’re planning, I was worried.”
“Why?” I ask and immediately wish I hadn’t been so flippant. Her eyes grow wide, and she puts her palms flat on the table the way she does when she’s trying to avoid throwing something.
“You’ve spent all that money renting a room in a bed and breakfast in fucking, Texas, when you should have put it in a bank account and saved it. Or used it to move out of this hovel.” She looks around my apartment in disdain.
“The money is nothing.” I shrug, ignoring the dip in my gut the lie causes when it leaves my lips. It’s actually everything. But I needed to go back to Winsome. I needed a place to live and I found the only house in town that had a piano. Sure, they wanted a mint for it, but I like to think my father would have been glad I was doing this.
She slaps the table.
“Since when did money become nothing? Do you think that because you didn’t earn it, no one did? That money is supposed to be your down payment on your life. Your children’s lives. Not for you to throw away on a whim. Especially when you’ve thrown your lucky break away like it was nothing.”
Her voice is tight with controlled impatience.
“I’m sorry my need to get away is a whim. I don’t understand why you’re upset,” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
My question has the exact opposite effect. She explodes.
“Because you’re moving to Texas, Carter! To a town where your only connection is your dead father. You’re turning down the chance of a lifetime for reasons you won’t share with anyone. You’re leaving your work, your home, your family when you need all three of those things more than ever.”
My hackles rise. But then I remember that she doesn’t know everything. So, I tell her what I told my sister. It’s the truth. Just not all of it.
“That was the last place I wrote music worth anything. I need to get that back, Mom. It’s torture not being able to play.”
That seems to do the trick. The fight goes out of her. She looks tired, and even though she’s nearly six feet tall, she looks fragile. The last few months have taken a lot out of all of us. I give her a hug and she wraps her arms around me, too.
“It’s just a few months. You won’t even have time to miss me.”
She disentangles herself from our embrace and looks up at me, her expression still full of worry.
“Are we okay? I don’t want to lose you.”
“We’re fine. And yes. I’m sorry. I’ve had my head up my ass for months. But I shouldn’t have shut you out. I’m just—a little out of sorts. But we are always fine.”
I chuck her under the chin softly and she smiles, reluctantly.
“That’s my girl."
Her expression clears and she smiles coyly.
“Speaking of girls.”
“No.” I say quickly and she smacks me.
“Find out what happened. I know she hurt—”
“She didn’t hurt me.” I lie and clench my fists. Not in anger, but to stop myself from rubbing away the phantom pain that blooms dead center in my chest when I think about her.
“Oh, Carter…” Her eyes soften, and she reaches up to brush a lock of hair off my forehead.
“I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
She nods, her closed mouth a tender smile.
&nbs
p; I hate the pity in her eyes and I turn away from it and busy myself with the pile of dishes in my sink that I’ve neglected all week.
“Nadia told me you’re renting to Dave while you’re gone,” she says from behind me.
I shake my head in disgust. Fucking Nadia and her huge mouth.
“He doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s here. Especially not his parents.” I give her a meaningful glare.
She puts her hands up as if in self-defense. “Well, I won’t say anything. I have enough on my own plate. Haifa Hallaby’s dramatics are the very last thing I need in my life right now.”
I laugh at that. My childhood friend, Dave Hallaby is a violinist. Widely considered the greatest talent of our time.
I pick up a glass that’s lined with something dark and crusted over. I grimace, not sure what was in it. I decide it’s not worth salvaging. I drop it in the trash. My mother sighs the way she used to when we’d track mud through the house or when our dog pissed on her rugs.
“Carter, that’s not disposable. Oh! Dear Lord, never mind.” She grimaces and drops it back in the trash. She bumps me aside with her hip and washes her hands.
“This mess…it’s so unlike you. Your friend is going to need a hazmat suit.”
I laugh, but it’s hollow. I’m not sure what’s unlike me anymore. I feel unanchored from myself. The last few months have felt like an out of body experience.
“I’m having the place cleaned after I leave,” I tell her and then scoop up an entire pile of plates and throw them into the trash.
She doesn’t try to salvage them this time. She starts walking around the tiny circumference of my studio apartment. The rustle of papers draws my eyes to her. She’s stacking a pile of documents I’ve been poring over.
I tense, but just watch out of the corner of my eye.
Those are the documents from the PI I hired. If I react, or try to pull them away, her curiosity will be piqued.
No secret can withstand the scrutiny of Penn Bosh’s curiosity.
She doesn’t even glance at them. She just straightens and stacks them before she moves on to the piles of sheet music on the floor.