by Lexy Timms
Megan beckoned a waiter over. “A glass of oxy water with ice, please. Oh, and we’ll go ahead and order an appetizer to share. The steamed edamame, no salt please.”
Yup. It just kept getting worse.
Joy wished she’d grabbed something to snack on before coming to lunch. “How’s the reality show going, Lily?”
Lily sipped her water and pouted. “Okay. The ratings could be better. The divorce really drove them up, so of course now we’re seeing a slight slump.”
Divorce, reduced to ratings. Lily had two kids, and an ex who had publicly humiliated her. But never mind the pain and heartache and the kids’ feelings. Worry about the ratings. When had her family become the Kardashians?
Joy was still trying to process that when her father, the infamous Tyler Blake, appeared. He greeted his wife and daughter before turning to his youngest daughter.
“Sweetie!” A genuine smile filled his face as he took the seat across from her and asked, “How’s your project going, Joy?”
“Which one?”
He gave her a fond smile. “The paying one. And the other too, of course.”
“They’re both good.” She snorted and tried to cover the sound when her mother shot her a disapproving frown. “I’m enjoying the challenges of them both, anyway.”
The server appeared again and took Tyler’s drink order, then handed out the menus while her mother said, “I ordered steamed edamame. I know you hate them, but I figured we girls could pick at them while we wait for lunch.”
Joy had no intention of eating the edamame. She hated it. Pixie would have scarfed down the whole dish and asked for more.
Lunch progressed at its usual torturous pace. Joy was exhausted and bored long before her simple green salad and grilled shrimp appeared, and she seriously considering excusing herself too.
Lily cleared her throat loudly, catching their attention. “I’m considering doing something to boost ratings,” and then cut a miniscule bite off the end of one of her shrimp.
Tyler sighed. “I don’t know why you can’t just put that damn show to bed. I realize the pay’s good, and I applaud your being willing to do reality television, but, really, you’re wasting your talent. The days of reality stars going mainstream are long over.”
She set her fork down and leaned over. “Well, Father, you could put me in one of your films.”
“Then I’d be accused of nepotism,” he said calmly.
“It’s Hollywood. Everything’s some sort of nepotism.”
Tyler took a long swallow of his whiskey and said firmly, “I just don’t have a part for you, Lily.”
It was an old argument that would never end.
Joy squirmed, uncomfortable and anxious, in her chair. She pressed Lily, “What’re you going to do to boost ratings?” She said it not because she cared, but she simply wanted to stave off any more of their jousting. She knew from long experience it would disintegrate quickly into a shouting match, and she wanted nothing to do with that. Especially in public. Lily probably had a crew of cameras hiding out around the corner, ready to start filming the moment their voices raised.
Lily brushed an imaginary speck of dust off her blouse. “I’m going to try to get that tattoo artist, the super-hot one who used to have that show, Fly High Tattoos, to come on my show.”
“Hawk?” The words were out before she meant to speak them.
Lily stared at her dismissively. “I didn’t know you watched that show. Yes, Hawk. I think I’m going to try to talk him into a little cameo and let the editors and so on turn it into a ‘did they or didn’t they?’ kind of storyline. Ratings will pick up, and in a week or two I could show off some fake tattoo on my derrière or something.”
“No tattoos, Lily.” The tone in their father’s voice showed them he meant it.
All Joy could do was stare at her half-sister. “That’s... I mean...you can’t do that!”
One of Lily’s smooth bronzed shoulders lifted and dropped. “Why not? Mark, that bastard, was always in his shop getting fresh ink, and he cheated on me at the shop too. It would make the show interesting, and he’s so hot.”
“He wouldn’t appreciate being taken advantage of. He’s very nice.”
Lily smirked. “On-camera I’m sure he is.”
Joy clenched her fork. “Off-camera too.”
“Oh, do tell.” Lily lifted a brow and leaned forward. “Wait! How would you know?”
“I had dinner with him last night.” Her face burned as Lily’s eyes narrowed and then sharpened. “Pixie’s a friend of his and we, all three of us, had dinner last night. It wasn’t a date.”
Lily sniffed again. “Of course not. Nobody suggested it was. Trust me there.” She looked at Joy’s mother and gave her a knowing look.
Joy’s anger hit hard. Nobody would have suggested that, of course not. Not one of them could imagine a man like Hawk wanting anything at all to do with her. Lily, yes. Her, no. That same old lack of self-esteem and insecurity rolled through her, shredding her defenses. Her eyes watered but she blinked back whatever moisture was there.
Her father broke in, his voice soft as he said, “Drop it, Lily. Having him on your show is not going to fly. Leave it alone.”
Joy met her father’s gaze. He’d always been kind to her, and she smiled gratefully at him. He just resumed eating.
“Next you’ll say you got a tattoo,” Lily said silkily. “Although why anyone would is beyond me. I’m not about to destroy my skin with something so tacky. Can you imagine what it will look like in a decade? Then again, you never really did care much about your looks.”
Joy retrained the urge to grab Lily by her hair and slam her head into the table. Lily had always been mean to her.
Always.
Hadn’t she just said she would have people think she got a tattoo for the show?
Her mother tapped her manicured finger on the table. She had always said it was normal for her half-sisters to be angry at her. She’d never explained why they were so mean to Joy, but they really did love her. After a while it had become painfully obvious. Joy was nothing like them, and they knew it. She was a dodo bird dropped into a nest of swans.
Joy spoke clearly as she tossed her napkin on the table. She could take a lot, but Lily was being ridiculous, and she refused to put up with it any longer. “Lily, listen because I’m only going to say this once. I earn my living through my brains and talent. If I wanted a tattoo, I’d get one, and it wouldn’t change how much money I make. You don’t understand this, but I’m three-hundred-percent better off than you. Heaven forbid if you gain a pound, or get a pimple, or a gray hair, or fart in public; your entire livelihood and life may be ruined. So, no, I don’t pay attention to my looks. I don’t need them to get through my life. But then again, you pay enough attention to yours for the both of us. I guess lacking everything else, you sort of have to.” She’d never said anything even remotely rude like that to her siblings. She was trembling with anger, and she was also hungry. The tiny salad was as appetizing as dirt. She lifted a hand and when the waiter appeared, she said, “This is awful. Bring me the pasta carbonara, and a glass of Chardonnay. Oh, and bread. Garlic. Please.”
The waiter hid a grin, nodded, and quickly took off.
Her mother frowned. “Joy, that’s going to wreck your figure.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” she returned sharply. “I’m a grown woman. I’ll eat what I want.” She stared at her mother. “And I’d stop frowning, Mother. It’ll put lines on your face.”
The waiter came back shortly with her food, breaking into the tense silence.
Her mother watched her eat a few bites and spoke, in a slightly timid tone, “Would you like to go shopping with us after lunch?”
“No, thank you. I need to get back to work.”
“And the tattoo shop?” Lily said angry. Her red-tipped nails tapped the table in measured little thunks that set Joy’s nerves on edge.
“That too.” Was she going to get a tattoo? Well,
why the hell not? She’d only been against it because of what her father would think. He didn’t seem to care. He was more interested in his phone than them.
A sense of recklessness filled her. Then it quickly died. A tattoo would mean broken skin, and blood. She couldn’t do it.
But maybe there was something she could do.
Soon after, her mother and Lily left to going shopping. The mood had become too tense and Joy could feel the two of them blame her. When the left, her father picked up his fork and stabbed at the pasta on her plate and ate it. He grinned and winked at her. “Don’t tell your mom.”
“I won’t.” She laughed, instantly relaxing. “You want some bread too?”
He eyed the thick buttery slice, “Do you think she’ll smell it on my breath?”
Joy spoke bluntly. “You two barely speak, and you have separate bedrooms. Do you really think she’s getting close enough to smell your breath?”
He set the fork down and said, “Damn it! You’re right.”
She shook her head and gave him a supportive smile. “Why do you stay married, Daddy? If you’re not happy...”
The childish name slid past her lips before she could stop it. Her father picked up the fork again and took her plate, grabbing another mouthful of pasta. “I’m in my eighties. She’s still beautiful, and young. Young next to me, anyway. We’ve been together nearly thirty years. It’s hard to leave what you know.”
“I guess.” She did understand better than she let on. Sometimes it was easier than dealing with change. He was right.
“So are you going to tell me about this Hawk boy?’
She cupped her elbows. “Why?”
“Why?” he mimicked her in a sweet teasing tone then returned to his regular voice, “Because I have never seen you lay into Lily like that, and she’s deserved it for years. And I have never seen you order pasta in front of your mother either.” He grinned. “I’m proud of you, girl. Baby steps, but in the right direction.”
She pointed out, “You don’t order pasta in front of her.”
“Nobody in their right mind would,” he chuckled. “Now stop skirting the subject; what’s going on with this man that you felt the need to keep him away from Lily?”
She shook her head and reached for her glass of water. “It’s not that. He’s...I mean we aren’t. I just met him, and he’s very nice. Sweet actually. If Lily gets her claws into him... I don’t think it’s fair to screw with people’s lives like that.”
“I see,” Tyler nibbled at the garlic bread. “Have you seen your other sisters lately?”
“No. How are they?”
“Rose is apparently having a great time living in Malibu and blowing her trust fund, and Call’s working on a fashion line. Purses. She should be able to design those well enough. Heaven knows she buys enough of them.”
Joy didn’t want to ask but she did. “How’s Max?”
Her father gave her a shrewd stare. “Enjoying his latest rehab, from what I hear. He’s in there with...what was the Lily’s last husband’s name?”
“Mark,” she supplied.
“Mark.” He set the crust of bread aside. “I’m proud of you, Joy. More than any of the others, I’m proud of you. I love all my kids, but you—you I’m proud of. You’re the only one who never wanted anything from me. Hell, you wouldn’t even take college tuition. You had to go on your scholarships and work at those shitty little bartending jobs. I used to try to think of ways to give you money on the sly that you wouldn’t know was from me.”
“I didn’t need it.”
He smiled. “No, you didn’t. What do you say we split a piece of cheesecake?”
She wanted to, but also knew he wasn’t supposed to have the sugar. “I say if you died any time soon I’d never stop blaming myself. And neither would anyone else.”
“You’ve got a good point there.”
She nodded. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, just really busy. I’m thinking of retiring this year. It would be nice to just relax and enjoy what I’ve earned.”
“Everyone else has enjoyed it so, yeah, you should too.” She grinned.
“They’re your family, Joy.”
“And I want you to spend all our inheritance on yourself. You deserve it... we don’t.” She twisted her hands together, trying to think of how to put her feelings into words that wouldn’t sting. She settled for, “I know they’re my family and I want to love them, but...but they don’t seem to care much for me.”
He didn’t argue, only nodded, “I can see that. Your mom does love you...”
“She’s disappointed in me.” It was true. They both knew it.
“You have to understand her, sweetie. She’s used to being around women who make their names and fortune by being beautiful. You scare the hell out of her. It’s not the other way around. You were always determined to do something else, and then...”
“When she figured out I was going to be a thick-figured girl,” Joy added sarcastically.
“No! When you started doing things she couldn’t understand or compete with, like talking about college when you were in sixth grade, and winning awards for essays and projects at school, she got even more scared. You went your own way, and every time you came home with some academic honor or new achievement, she got more and more certain that you saw her as stupid and superficial. Lily sees your mom as successful and important, but you...she’s afraid you’ll never see her anything more than a clothes hanger.”
“I don’t see her like that at all!” She appreciated that her father was trying to explain how her mother felt, but still... “She’s not very nice to me, and there’s not any excuse for that.”
Her father swirled the ice in his drink, but said nothing.
She couldn’t believe she’d said those thoughts out loud and to admit it to her father... she wasn’t surprised he had nothing to say. “I get that I’m not what she expected. I get that I’m not anyone she understands, but that’s not my fault! She could try to understand me.”
“And you have no reason to try to understand her?” he asked quietly.
Her face flushed. “Ouch. True. Sorry.” The words were staccato and brittle. “I’m the kid. She’s my mother.”
“You’re right. She is your mother. But you’re not much of kid anymore. You seem pretty grown up and independent.” He smiled. “You’re doing alright.”
“Thanks.” She appreciated the compliment, but it still didn’t take away the fact that she was a disappointment to her mother.
“Well, let me settle this bill and get you back to whatever it was you were doing.” He paused and then added cautiously. “How’s the...”
“Fine.” Her hand went to her flesh. Her lips compressed. The scar there was as fresh as the hurt she still had over the breakup. In fact, that surgery had come right on the heels of that breakup. The two things seemed pretty intertwined, and, while she knew they weren’t, they still felt that way.
“That’s good.”
She nodded. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not at all. It all still seemed so unfair and far too close to the surface. She didn’t want to discuss it or even think about it either.
This is the end of the Except
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