That was one truth I believed—Melody Kent hated herself. She looked into the mirror every day and saw a miserable woman who was getting older and sadder and meaner and she hated what the mirror showed her. It made her feel better to belittle others, so that was what she did.
And maybe she did hate Nicky and me. I had no idea. But if she did, she hated herself far worse.
“You want to tell me what happened?” I asked, easing back and brushing his hair from his face.
“I…” His eyes skittered away from my face. “She told me I couldn’t. Not ever.”
Cupping his chin in my hand, I guided his eyes back to mine. “And I told you it wasn’t good to keep secrets from me. Tell me, and I’ll figure out what to do.”
8
LeVan
“You know, if you keep smiling like that for too long, your face just might get stuck that way.”
The sound of Mom’s voice, amused and yet somehow sad, pulled me out of my reverie and I looked over at her. She held her wine glass in one hand and her sunglasses shielded her eyes. The day was miserably hot, but she’d still wanted to sit outside to eat, so here we were, on the balcony overlooking the slow, muddy waters of the Mississippi as we cracked open crawfish and ate with gusto. The meal would’ve been just fine if it had simply been the mudbugs and the andouille sausage, but it came with buttered corn and potatoes and I was already so full, I knew I shouldn’t eat anymore.
But I’d missed the food from this little Cajun café on the banks of the river. Not to say there wasn’t good food in New Orleans, but between cramming for two finals, working four nights a week in my part-time job as a carriage driver, and entertaining my customers as I worked on perfecting my craft, I wasn’t exactly rocking the party life—or the foodie life.
Most of my free time was spent studying or practicing, so my meals were almost always delivery or something out of a can, save for lunch and that came from the dining hall.
Now that I was home for a couple of weeks between taking summer classes, I was making up for the lousy food I’d been eating, and Mom and Dad were enjoying the time I spent with them as we met for lunch or cooked out several times a week. Granted, my younger brother Harry wasn’t loving it as much—he said if he had to have much more family time, he’d gouge an eye out.
I doubted the kid would go to that extreme, but I understood his dilemma.
Mom had told me about his girlfriend.
He was sixteen, had his first girlfriend, and he wanted to spend any and all time with her—not that Mom and Dad would let him. But who was I to spoil his fantasies?
Of course, Mom had just interrupted one of mine.
“You’re thinking about Thea, aren’t you?” she asked, pointing a crawdad at me before cracking it open.
Eyeing how low the pile of food had gotten, I grabbed another mudbug and did the same, taking the time to pluck the tender meat from the shell before responding. “Thea?” I finally said, wondering if she’d buy the innocent act.
Of course, I don’t know why I tried to fool her.
“No. Tammy.” Mom rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t know why my boys think they can fool me,” she muttered in an eerie echo of my thoughts. She sighed, reaching for a napkin and delicately wiping her fingers.
As she leaned back in the chair, I reached for my napkin too.
I had a feeling we were getting ready to have a conversation.
We weren’t just going to talk.
We were going to communicate.
“You know there’s some history between your father and her mother.”
Frowning over the job of cleaning my hands, I gave the task an inordinate amount of attention as I thought my response over. “I heard that she had a thing for Dad, yeah.”
“It wasn’t just a thing. It was more like an…obsession. She was quite convinced the two of them would marry. Then I showed up…” She shrugged, lifting one hand as if to say, Here I am. “Terrible of me. Bad enough that anyone catch your daddy’s eye, but there I was, moving in with Granny after my mama died, coming here from New Orleans, all brash and mouthy.”
“And black.” I eyed her as I reached for my water glass. Dad hadn’t said as much but I had no doubt Mama’s skin color played as much into the history she was referencing as anything else.
“And black,” she agreed. “You never knew him, but the man she married looked…well, the resemblance he bore to your father was something else.”
“You already said she was obsessed.”
“Yes.” Toya looked away, her eyes seeing off into the past. “She didn’t let him go easily, either. They had a handful of dates, but I get the feeling her mother had been whispering in her ear that Brax was the man for her and she grew up thinking she’d be the next Mrs. Vanderbilt. Then he up and falls in love with me.”
I smiled a little. “He says he took one look at you and fell in love.”
“It wasn’t as quick as that.” But the look in her eyes was smug, pleased…and there was just as much love in her eyes as I knew I’d see in Dad’s eyes if I asked him about it. “I think he just liked mouthy girls.”
I’d heard the story a hundred times and while she didn’t tell me again, I thought about it briefly and wondered if maybe she wasn’t right. I’d seen how Dad was treated around here—Yes, sir, No, sir, how is the weather, Dr. Vanderbilt… I’d been treated much the same way most of my life because of who my father was, who my family was.
Mom had moved here from a different part of the state and hadn’t given a rat’s ass about the blond boy who’d intervened when she’d been telling off some guy who’d decided he could invade her personal space. Mom had handled the guy, then turned her temper on my father.
While she read him the riot act, my dad told me he was already thinking about how he’d convince her to marry him.
Whether or not that was true, I had no idea.
“That girl could bring you a lot of trouble.”
Jerking my head up, I looked at Mom. “I barely know her,” I said mildly. But I found myself thinking of her big, dark gray eyes. Deep, mysterious… beautiful.
“I know. And your dad barely knew me,” she pointed out. “You were looking at her the same way he looked at me, LeVan. Trust me…I’ve been on the receiving end of the Vanderbilt charm. I know what I’m talking about.”
9
Thea
I was so sick of it. The woman left me no choice.
“You aren’t going to keep doing this to him,” I warned her when she raised her hand at him, ready to strike. “Leave him alone. And stop drinking so much around him. If you keep this up, the whole damn town will know about you and him. I know about the pool boy, Mother. And I’ll tell Jack.”
She slapped me for that last part.
I had some leverage for now. She acted like she was above reproach, yet she was sleeping with the pool boy when my stepfather, Jack, wasn’t in town. And now, she knew that I knew, yet she still felt the need to mark me.
I didn’t care.
The woman needed to get it through her head that no way was I about to let her take her problems out on Nicky. She couldn’t stand the thought of having brought my brother into this world. But Nicky was my blood. I adored him. Now that I was old enough to fight back, I’d be damned if I let her keep hurting him.
The next day, I spent twenty minutes covering the handprint and considered it a win, because I wasn’t bluffing. Head down, mind still whirling from yet another early morning confrontation with her, I left for work. As I hopped up on the curb and started walking to the boutique, the only thing that gave me some comfort was I left Nicky in the care of our housekeeper’s daughter, Grace. I didn’t have to worry when she was around to watch over him.
Mother didn’t like it.
She was starting to freak out again about having strangers in her house. But Grace was no stranger. I made sure to remind Mother that the day she stopped Grace from caring for Nicky, I’d be the one to tell the whole damn
town about her indiscretions. Starting with her husband. One thing I knew about my mother: she didn’t do well with being a single woman. She was afraid Jack would leave her. I thought it was just a matter of time. Jack might no longer be as bowled over by Melody as he once was, but he still had feelings for her. Finding out that she was screwing the pool boy on the side would be the nail in the coffin.
I almost called in sick. Listening to her rage at me for over an hour gave me the worst headache. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders, told myself I could get through the day, then the next and the next—
And I crashed right into a tall, lean, muscular form.
Only a strong pair of hands kept me from ending up on my ass—again.
Dazed, I tipped my head back and found myself staring into LeVan’s tiger-stripe eyes.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he said, a slow smile curving his lips.
Man. I really wanted to kiss him.
That was the first thought I had.
The second thought—I was going to be late.
Jerking back, I said, “I’m sorry. I’m a klutz. I’ve got to go.”
“Hey, hold up…”
“I’m going to be late,” I said over my shoulder, striding into The Boutique on Bank Street—such a clever name. Tammy stood at the counter, chatting merrily on the phone, waving at me when I came in.
But then the bell behind me chimed a second time.
Tammy paused, head cocked. “Hello, LeVan.”
I spun around, staring at him.
In here, without his mother at his side, he looked…out of place. Not wrong, per se. He was just too much of a guy to fit in the fuss and frills and beads and sparkles of Tammy’s boutique.
“What are you doing in here?” I said, the rudeness of the question lost on me.
“I wanted to buy something for my mother.” That same smile was still in place, undimmed by my rudeness.
“Oh.” Turning back to Tammy, I saw that she had turned her back on me. It was up to me, apparently. “I…ah…I have to clock in.”
“I’m not in a hurry.”
And he wasn’t.
LeVan took his time roaming through the shop and when I tried to guide him—or at least figure out what he was looking for—he told me that he’d know it when he saw it.
So far, he hadn’t seen it and he’d been looking for almost twenty minutes.
Clever hands turned over hats designed by a local lady. Those same hands inspected brooches and necklaces, pendants and earrings.
It wasn’t until Tammy disappeared into the back that he finally said much of anything.
“I was wondering if maybe I could take you out to dinner.”
The question was so far from what I’d been expecting, I damn near dropped the stack of blouses I’d brought out to stock. Fumbling with them, I finally managed to catch them and turned to a counter to straighten the pile—it was just sheer luck that the one I picked gave him my back. Dinner. Had he just asked me out to dinner?
“I like Savon’s on the River. You been there?”
It was such a silly question, I found myself answering without thinking about it. “Who hasn’t?” In a town with fewer than four thousand people and only a handful of restaurants in said town, I’d been to every single one so often, I had the menus memorized. Savon’s was the best by far.
“Would tomorrow work for you?”
Spinning around, I stared at him. “Why are you asking me out?” I demanded.
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” he countered.
“I can think of five, easy.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. Nobody asked me out. Between my job, dealing with my brother, my own foul temper, and everything else, why would anyone want to?
“Just five?” He clicked his tongue. “Sorry. Five reasons…that isn’t enough for me. I need a list, alphabetized, of at least twenty reasons.”
I frowned at him.
“What, no answer to that?”
“Are you always this difficult?”
“You’re the one getting upset because I asked you out to dinner,” he said simply. “Am I being difficult?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. He was actually quite right. But how was I supposed to tell him that I couldn’t really date? I had no idea how my mother…
My mother.
Screw it.
I don’t know when I started to smile, but at some point, I had.
Maybe it was rude. Maybe I was being a disrespectful daughter. But I’d spent the past fourteen years doing nothing but trying to please her and it had gotten me nothing.
“You know what? I think I’d love to go out to dinner.” I smiled at him. “But…I’ll have to meet you there.”
10
Thea
Back when I turned eighteen, it was spring break. Instead of going to Miami Beach or Cancun the way some of my friends did, or even Europe—Jack had offered—I went to New Orleans.
I went alone, too.
I told Jack I was going to go shopping with friends and then spent the time in either a hotel or exploring the nooks and crannies of the famous Creole city.
My second trip to New Orleans was the weekend after meeting LeVan.
And the purpose of that trip: seeing LeVan.
I lied yet again. I was sure that Jack knew I was lying, and I think he knew why, too. He’d seen me in town both nights that I’d gone out with LeVan since we’d started our whirlwind romance earlier that week. Jack only had one piece of advice for me. Be careful. Don’t let her find out.
It wasn’t something we talked about but I didn’t have to ask why.
My mom was one of those…she might act like she wasn’t a born and bred elitist and bigot extraordinaire, but she was. I’d witnessed her ducking into a store or alley to avoid certain residents in town. I’d also heard the locks click all because someone of a different ethnicity happened to walk by her car when we were in it.
Yes, I knew all about making sure Mom never found out about LeVan. It wasn’t like she spent much time in St. Gabriel. A scare with a liver screen a few years ago had convinced her she needed to stop drinking so much, and both Nicky and I had enjoyed two blissful months while she went through detox and rehab.
Mind you, she got right back to her poor treatment of us on her return home. After that, she’d spend a couple of long weekends away, taking a breather at the posh, spa-like detox center where she’d spent time drying out. As soon as I found out she planned to take another one of those weekends out of town, I cooked up my plan to see LeVan in New Orleans.
We all saw it coming.
We all knew.
She’d been sneaking alcohol into her morning coffee again—and her evening coffee. And possible her lunch beverage too. And all of that extra drinking was on top of the infinite glasses of wine, cocktails, liqueurs, or flutes of champagne that she kept affixed to her right hand at any and all hours of the day and night. That was our signal that we were approaching another weekend away.
Still, at least she knew she had a problem, and I was glad she took an interest in getting regular help. She was so much meaner when she drank, so much uglier inside. Not that she was a good mother at the other times, but at least when she was sober, I didn’t have to dodge fists or the palm of her hand. When she left, life was perfect. She left us alone and I could stay the hell away from her.
In Mother’s absence during these mini-retreats, Jack became more and more of a father figure, an actual parent. I barely remembered having someone kind in our day-to-day life since before Daddy died. Jack was nice, very much the type who believed in spoiling the child to make up for every wrong ever done to them. The fact that I was sneaking off to go to New Orleans to meet LeVan was added proof of his indulgence.
Jack promised he’d take care of Nicky. With Mother temporarily out of the picture, I knew my brother would be in good hands, so I didn’t worry. It was even better luck that she kicked off her weekend on Thursday. That me
ant I was able to pack at leisure that very Thursday night, and didn’t have to hide my things while doing so. Things that included the sexy little nightgown I’d ordered and paid extra for overnight shipping, and had delivered to the boutique. Her early departure meant I could get on the road right after my Friday afternoon shift at the boutique.
In terms of our itinerary, I didn’t know what our weekend looked like, but as I took the ninety-minute drive to New Orleans, one thing was for certain. I’d look damn good while doing it.
11
Thea
LeVan was such a gentleman when he opened the door and saw me standing outside his off-campus apartment.
Taking my travel bag, he set it down at the front door and led me by the hand through his apartment to his bedroom. We sat on the edge of his bed, just catching up on how we’d each spent the two days since we’d seen each other last.
Then he kissed my cheek.
I knew there was more to come, but I wanted to be ready for it. Excusing myself, I grabbed my travel bag, found his bathroom, and locked myself inside.
I needed to catch my breath, steady the pounding in my chest, strengthen my weakening knees, and most of all, I had to get used to the insistent throbbing between my legs.
And I took an extra few minutes to change into that silky piece of lingerie while I was at it. Once I returned to his bedroom door, I cleared my throat to get his attention, and I felt my knees getting a little bit shakier than before as he pushed up off the bed and came toward me.
LeVan’s eyes widened at the sight of me. That was exactly what I’d hoped would happen. I was so crazy about him, and he had this way of looking at me, of making me feel so wanted that it just drove me insane. Knowing that I could get this type of reaction from the unshakeable LeVan Vanderbilt was a heady thing.
Risk Me (Vegas Knights Book 2) Page 5