Pieces For You

by Rulon, Genna

  “Good.” He cleared his throat, stalling. “I wanted to invite you to dinner.”

  I looked around the restaurant, at the food on our table, and then at him.

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

  “No. I want to take you to dinner as my date. Preferably when we’ve both had time to shower beforehand and aren’t wearing gym clothes. What do you say?”

  “Yes.” The word was out of my mouth before my brain had any say—pure instinct.

  “Are you free Saturday?”

  “I’ll have to consult my calendar; I’m incredibly busy, you know.” I thumbed through my imaginary calendar. “Saturday is perfect. Dressy or casual?”

  “I know spending a fortune on dinner won’t impress you, but I would love to try Maroni’s. The food is supposed to be spectacular and I’ve never had anyone I cared enough to try it with.”

  “I’ve heard about it, but haven’t been either. Can you get a reservation? I heard they’re booked at least three months in advance.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said with confidence.

  “Okay, it’s a date.”

  After dinner he drove me back to my car. When we arrived, he came around my side to help me get out.

  “You need stairs for this monster.”

  “No, you need stairs, I have no problems. Besides, I like having the excuse to help you get in and out.”

  “Playa,” I accused without heat.

  “Back in the day, maybe. But I’m more interested in quality versus quantity these days.”

  “Isn’t that exactly what a player would say?”

  “I guess you’ll have to judge me by my actions and decide for yourself.”

  “Smooth.”

  “Call me after your parents’ tomorrow if you need anything.”

  He said goodbye with a sweet kiss on the top of my head that did nothing to satisfy my desire for him.

  Wednesday was business as usual at Higher Yearning. Ev arrived midway through my shift with Meg.

  “Meg, do you try to upsell customers by offering additional items like pastries or a bottle of water?”

  “Absolutely, I’ve even been cutting up a muffin before rush-time to offer a small sample, which increases sales of baked goods,” Meg replied proudly.

  “Great idea. I love that you took the initiative to try something new. Just be sure that your sales tactics respect the integrity of our products and the decorum of Higher Yearning.”

  Meg looked at Ev, her confusion evident. “Did I do something wrong? Oh my gosh, was there a complaint about me?” she asked, horrified.

  Ev chuckled. “No, you have been amazing, Meg—one of the best employees ever. Let me give you an example of what I’m talking about. As I said, I value initiative, but there are limits to how far we should push the envelope. Yesterday, an employee—who shall remain nameless—decided to entice a customer by shoving her tongue down his throat. It may ensure the customer’s return, but we are not a coffee brothel.”

  Meg stared at me with her mouth hanging open. She had been working yesterday but didn’t catch my lip-lock with Griffin.

  “Don’t listen to her, Meg. She’s messing with you,” I said, hoping to erase the shocked look on the poor girl’s face.

  “So you didn’t make-out with a customer on the couch yesterday?” Ev challenged, clearly having fun paying me back.

  “You, my friend, have a big mouth. Yes, I kissed Griffin on the couch yesterday, but there were extenuating circumstances, and I didn’t kiss him to persuade him to buy more coffee.”

  “Wait, the huge blonde hottie?” Meg asked, her shock replaced by envy.

  “One and the same,” I answered, gloating.

  “Sorry, Ev. I believe in professionalism, but who wouldn’t kiss that gorgeous creature if given the opportunity? I would have revoked her woman card if she had passed that up. He is definitely the sexiest guy I have ever seen.”

  “Hey, what about Hunter?” Ev protested. “He’s drop-dead gorgeous. Plus, he’s a total badass.”

  I was convulsing with laughter at the ridiculousness of Ev selling Hunter.

  “Oh, Hunter’s hot, too. I guess I just prefer blondes,” Meg consoled.

  “Clearly you haven’t had enough time to appreciate the wonder that is Hunter. He’s supposed to stop by later. After you study him more closely, you’ll see your mistake. Trust me, there is no one hotter than my man.”

  I leaned into Meg’s side and stage whispered, “Just tell her you made a mistake and Hunter is your favorite. She won’t let it rest until you agree with her…believe me.”

  Ev threw her hands in the air and headed toward her office.

  After my shift, I changed clothes in the restroom—God forbid I showed up for dinner in jeans and a Higher Yearning polo. I slid into a tailored Fendi pencil dress in cream with nude Louboutin pumps and a pearl necklace. The outfit screamed ‘innocent and unsoiled.’ Maybe the clothing would help my parents see me that way, too. As I exited the bathroom, Hunter was entering the shop.

  “Any idea what the emergency is that required I get here by 5:00 pm?” he asked as I greeted him.

  “It’s going to be so much better if you’re surprised,” I said and checked my watch. “In fact, I can spare ten minutes and still make it to my parents’ on time for dinner. Let me tell Ev you’re here.”

  Ev darted from the back and grabbed Hunter’s arm.

  “Don’t talk to her, she’s the enemy,” Ev scolded Hunter as they approached the counter.

  He turned back to me and raised one eyebrow. I only shrugged and positioned myself for optimal viewing. Let the show begin.

  “Meg, you’ve met my boyfriend Hunter, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, we met last week. Hello, Meg, nice to see you again.”

  Ev wrapped her hand around Hunter’s bicep and ‘oooh’-ed. “Have you been working out more than usual? You feel extra ripped. Feel this Meg, the man is rock solid.”

  Meg and Hunter both looked at Ev like she had lost her mind, which of course she had.

  “That’s not necessary, I believe you,” Meg said in a placating manner.

  “Did you know Hunter saves lives for a living? He is a real-life hero!”

  Hunter stared at Ev for a moment before turning his gaze to me.

  “What am I missing?” Hunter asked me, unable to puzzle out Ev’s agenda.

  “Oh, no, you’ll get no help from me. I am enjoying this way too much,” I replied.

  Ev elbowed him in the ribs, demanding his attention. “Wow, you’re wearing the new jeans we bought last weekend. Your ass is spectacular in these. Turn around and show Meg.”

  “Okay, you need to explain why I feel like a pooch from ‘Best in Show.’”

  “Evidently Meg hasn’t had an opportunity to really see you up close and personal because she claimed Griffin was the hottest guy she had ever seen earlier today.”

  “And you are defending my honor by parading me around like a coiffed poodle to prove I’m hotter than Griffin?”

  “Yep.”

  Hunter shook his head at her, accepting her craziness for the compliment it was.

  Hunter turned back to Meg and hit her with his megawatt smile, dazzling her. Meg’s eyes widened, breathless at the sight.

  “You don’t have to believe it, but if you could tell her what she wants to hear I would appreciate it. Ev is so much happier when she wins and I don’t give her the chance very often.”

  Turning to Ev, Meg said, “You’re right, Ev. Hunter is the hottest guy I’ve ever met…and I’m not even lying to make you happy.”

  Ev turned to me and stuck out her tongue.

  I had full confidence Griffin would reclaim Meg’s vote without even trying. With a wave goodbye, I left for the hour-long drive to my parents’ home.

  By the time I arrived at the main gate of the Whitney estate, my spirits were high. I was ready to square off against Ev in the hot-guy battle and face whatever my parents had in store.
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  I clicked the remote to open the front privacy gate and drove onto the familiar grounds. The property was meticulously manicured, as always, and the great lawn particularly green despite the New York fall. I followed the meandering hedge-trimmed driveway around a replica of the Fontaine de la Concorde in Paris, finally arriving at the front entrance. Up until four years ago—when I last lived here—I would have pulled around the left side to the garages. Now I parked in front like the visitor I was. The Whitney estate had never been my home—merely the museum in which I slept.

  I rang the bell and waited for Thorngood, the current butler, to answer the door.

  “Miss Whitney, welcome. Your parents are awaiting your arrival in the drawing room. Shall I show you the way?”

  “No thank you, I remember how to get there,” I said dryly.

  As I walked through the house, the setting sun caught my eye as it reflected off the bay, showcased by the expansive windows. The beauty and warmth of the scene was a stark contrast to the cold, sterile feel within the house. My heels clicked against the marble floors, effectively announcing my arrival as I entered the drawing room. For the life of me, I could not explain why it was referred to as the ‘drawing room;’ none of us drew or were artistic in any way.

  “Father, Mother,” I greeted as I entered.

  They both rose as I approached, offering the customary air kiss near each cheek. I can’t remember the last time I had experienced physical contact with either of my parents. It was no longer something I expected or needed from them. Any hope of connecting with them died after the attack, when they abandoned me to Ev’s care because it was too real for them to deal with.

  “Thank you for joining us, Samantha. Dinner will be served in an hour, but your father wanted to have a word with you first,” my mother said formally.

  “It has come to my attention that you are considering testifying for the District Attorney in regards to the incident that occurred at Hensley,” my father stated without preface.

  I inhaled deeply, hoping to calm myself. The first time either of my parents deigned to talk about what happened and my father refers to a heinous attack as ‘the incident,’ dismissing it as if it were nothing more than a drunken indiscretion between consenting adults. I was in a coma for almost two weeks, underwent multiple surgeries, had over twenty broken and fractured bones, nearly lost an eye, still had two scars on my face that required plastic surgery to repair, and if that wasn’t enough, I was violated in every possible way. I wanted to scream and rant, but it was no use expending energy that would not change them or make me feel better.

  “Yes, I am going to testify,” I said, trying to appear calm, certain I was failing.

  “Have you considered the ramifications of exposing the sordid details as a matter of public record? Our friends, potential employers, future suitors…everyone would have access to your testimony. Furthermore, you would open yourself to cross-examination from opposing counsel. Are you certain you want to invite such scrutiny to every facet of your life, considering the potential embarrassment for yourself and our family would be substantial?”

  “What concerns you more, father? The further indignity I will suffer or that your friends at the country club will know I was violently raped?”

  My mother gasped at either my blunt accusation or use of the word ‘rape,’ but I couldn’t be sure which was the source of her distress.

  “There is no need for histrionics, Samantha. You are needlessly upsetting your mother,” he reprimanded harshly.

  “Answer the question,” I challenged, unwilling to back down. I was determined to force him to acknowledge the truth.

  “I personally have no interest in assigning blame. You cannot be so naïve that you don’t understand the way such matters can besmirch a family like ours. As a member of this family, you have a duty to protect the Whitney name at all times.”

  “Or else?” I questioned, surprisingly shocked despite his expected reaction. “I am fairly certain I heard an underlying threat in there.”

  My father sighed as if I was an unbearable burden. “Why do you insist on having every detail spelled out? Do you enjoy our discomfort?”

  “Your discomfort?” I asked in astonishment.

  “Yes, our discomfort! How do you think your mother and I feel having to discuss this distasteful matter simply because you don’t have the discretion to deal with your difficulties in a more private and respectful manner? I paid a fortune to have you treated by the facility Everleigh suggested. I was led to believe they would fix you, saving us from such unpleasantries.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t pretend as well as you, or be content to medicate myself to the point of oblivion like mother. I guess I’m selfish like that.”

  My parents completely ignored the jab, pretending not to understand my accusation, in effect, proving my point.

  I thought I was blessedly numb after so many years of disappointment. I had hoped when they injected their acid of disapproval into my heart that it would no longer burn—god was I wrong. The small part of me that still loved my parents for their basic genetic contribution to my being was incinerated—excruciatingly and irreversibly reduced to ashes. In that moment, the final piece that tied me to the last name I shared with them died.

  “You will not testify or discuss the subject in any way…ever. Do not defy me in this, Samantha; you will not be pleased with the consequences,” my father barked.

  “I can assure you that I will be testifying and I will speak about the attacks, my suffering, and anything else I damn well please to whomever I want, whenever the fuck I want,” I screamed, my restraint finally snapping.

  “As you wish, Samantha. But if you will not protect the Whitney name, then you will not benefit from it. As of now, you are cut off—financially on your own—without the protection or clout your name has previously provided. You will find out exactly what it means to be without family. Perhaps after you have truly suffered, you will come to your senses.”

  “Money. Ha! I never gave a damn about the money. You may have been my father and mother, but you were never my family. Family doesn’t desert a member during times of crisis. Family doesn’t coerce to the detriment of another. I would tell you a family loves, but it’s an emotion of which you are incapable, and therefore you wouldn’t comprehend the significance of the word.”

  I rose on shaky legs, snatched my purse, and walked to the door.

  “Goodbye,” I whispered, knowing it would be the last word I ever spoke to them.

  I made it to the car and out of my parents’ posh waterfront community before the dam of emotion broke, forcing me to park in a nearby strip mall. Once the car was safely in park, the tears came and didn’t stop. I sobbed for the parents I never had. I sobbed for the loss of Meme, the only mother I had ever known. I sobbed for the little girl who desperately sought her parents’ love, not comprehending I was chasing something they didn’t understand and could never give. Finally, I sobbed for the woman I now was, devastated by their abandonment during the lowest point of my life and the knowledge that all they felt for me was shame.

  My phone rang and the call automatically connected through my car’s hands-free system. I tried to hide my tears but I suspected the caller heard my despair.

  “Where are you?” Griffin’s voice came over the line, a balm.

  “Oyster Bay,” I croaked.

  “What are you near?”

  “I…god, how could they—”

  “I know, baby. I’m on my way, I just need you to look around and tell me what you’re near.”

  “Eleganté Spalon, but you don’t need to come. I’ll be fine by the time you get here, it’s an hour away.”

  “What happened tonight?”

  I told him everything, every blistering and trivializing word. Silent rivers of disgrace coursed down my face. That man—I would never again call him ‘father’—exposed one of my deepest fears and callously reinforced my insecurity. Blame—was I to blame for what happen
ed? Should I be held accountable? The rational part of my brain screamed the word ‘bullshit’ at the notion, but a small destructive voice within me whispered he was right…if the man who created me held me responsible, wasn’t I?

  “I’m here, baby,” he soothed as my car door swung open, causing me to levitate out of my seat. “Just me, Lo. You’re safe,” he said as he reached in the car and unbuckled my seatbelt, scooping me into his arms and removing me from the driver’s seat in one smooth movement. Before I knew how it happened, I was cradled in his lap in the backseat of my Mercedes.

  I wanted to be strong, for once be master of the feelings that commanded me, but today was not that day. In the security of Griffin’s arms, I unleashed a raw display of anguish and betrayal. He held me together by offering his strength when I did not have my own. He listened to my senseless ramblings, grief-laden wails, outraged screams, and tormented whimpers. He soothed me with simple words and validated my feelings, providing empathy and compassion in each judgment-free tender caress.

  When there was nothing left and I was completely empty, he still held me.

  “How can you stand to be around me? I have a meltdown once a freaking week and you have the shit-luck to always be nearby. Aren’t you ready to run yet?”

  “If there was anywhere else I’d rather be, I’d be there. The only thing I can’t stand is not being around you.”

  “I’m…I don’t…okay.”

  “There is no response required, Lo. Tonight the jackass who never deserved the privilege of calling you his daughter decided to tell you how he sees you. You need a second opinion, so you got mine. You choose which to believe. And for the record, I am not an emotionally stunted, self-absorbed narcissist—making me a more reliable source.”

  We sat in silence for a while as I processed everything he said and accepted that most of it was spot-on. The ugly, spiteful little voice in my mind that tried to keep me chained in a prison of torment was barely audible for the moment, and I experienced a second of blissful peace.

  “By the way, how did you get here so fast?”

  He cleared his throat. “I was in the neighborhood.”