Just Me

by L. A. Fiore

  I just stared, because it was so inappropriate to be having this discussion not only in public, but in front of me. For all the breeding they claimed to have, Sinclair and Jennifer Ross had no class.

  I looked over at Bastian and expected to see him react in some way to his father's bad manners, but instead he smiled at his brother, undisturbed. Was he like me, so accustomed to his mistreatment, that it didn't come as a surprise to him?

  “You can't spend your life living as carelessly as you do.” His father was on a roll. “I can't tell you how embarrassing it is for me to have to explain to my friends why my son has a part-time job to begin with…but being a mechanic of all things. You may be comfortable interacting with the middle class, but we are not middle class. Aim higher, Sebastian, you're a Ross.”

  Why I had the feeling his last comment of aiming higher was about me, I couldn't say. The two of them were a tag team with the goal of breaking Bastian down. I now understood why he had the tattoos—a daily visual reminder to never give up; to fight for what he wanted.

  His mom said, “I was disappointed that Kira couldn't make it this evening. She is such a lovely girl and so accomplished. Did you know she and Sebastian have been friends since they were in kindergarten? Her parents are in agreement with us, have been since the children were very little, that they should marry. I understand Sebastian is young and needs to sow his oats, but in the end like calls to like. You understand my meaning, don't you, dear?”

  Did she just say that? Insufferable bitch. My attention shifted to Bastian, since I felt the change in him in response to his mother's baiting: every muscle tensed and the smile faded from his face.

  “Kira's a self-absorbed snob and nothing like me, but, regardless, my girlfriend is sitting at the table and you will not disrespect her again.”

  I covered his fisted hand with my own. It was official. I hated his parents as much as they disapproved of me. I didn't want Bastian's evening ruined, so I tried to offer him comfort, but his mother wasn't done.

  “Larkspur seems like a lovely young woman, but she isn't someone a man like you marries. She just doesn't mingle in your social circles. Surely, Larkspur agrees with me.”

  Suddenly all eyes were on me, which wasn't good, since I was fairly sure I was giving Jennifer the evil eye. Her implication that I wasn't good enough for her son was bad enough, though expected, however the fact that she could show such disrespect for her own son, in front of his guest, was what had my temper spiking. Reaching for my glass, I took a sip in an attempt to calm down. A glance at Bastian confirmed that he looked about ready to explode too. I touched his face to turn his gaze to mine.

  “It's okay; I understand what your mom is saying.”

  He looked at me in confusion. Apoplectic would be a better word. My attention turned to Jennifer. She gave me a pleasant smile, but I didn't miss the spite just behind her eyes. Having grown up with my aunt, I was used to hostility aimed at me, but the Rosses behavior was over the top. They didn't know me well enough to have such a strong reaction to me which only reinforced what I had already feared. His parents had a plan for Bastian and I didn't fit into that plan. And it was their blatant disregard for Bastian and what he wanted that caused me to snap.

  I leaned back in my chair. “I don't suppose Bastian and I do move in the same circles, but now that I've got my hooks into him, I'm not about to let go. With Bastian, I'll be able to aspire to something higher than a double-wide and six kids all with different fathers. Now that, to me, is living the dream.”

  “There's no call for sarcasm.” This criticism came from Sinclair, but since he was too busy looking around the room to see whether anyone watched us, I couldn't be sure he was actually speaking to me. Jennifer did not bother to hide her contempt. “In our social circles, young lady, the young respect their elders and defer to their life experience.”

  I was the one feeling apoplectic now and I was frankly surprised my head didn't lift off my shoulders and spin around in true Exorcism fashion. I may not have blood relations who cared about me, but I knew from watching the Wrights what loving families were all about.

  Leaning closer to Jennifer, I held her glare with one of my own. “And in my social circle, family always has your back. Private matters are discussed in private, not among outsiders, and respect is earned. Insulting a dinner guest is hardly respect-worthy. As far as deferring to your judgment, I can't do that, because when you look at your son, you see someone lacking and when I look at him, I see an honorable, courageous and beautiful man inside and out. So you will have to forgive me, but we are going to have to agree to disagree.”

  Jennifer stood so abruptly she almost overturned her chair. “I've suddenly lost my appetite.” And without another word, she turned in a wave of sapphire silk and swept from the room. It was an Academy Award-winning exit.

  Sinclair stood and took a moment to look around the room again before turning his attention on Bastian. “Your girlfriend is just another example of your downward spiral.”

  Bastian leaped out of his chair in a flash. His hands were balled into fists, but it was Sinclair's reaction that surprised me, because despite his air of indifference, there was fear in his eyes.

  I hardly recognized Bastian's voice when he hissed, “You don't want to keep your wife waiting.”

  In response, Sinclair shrugged his shoulders and strolled away.

  “I'm sorry, Bastian.”

  The coldness in his eyes surprised me. “Don't apologize, Lark.” I watched as the coldness was replaced with an intensity that had my heart rate doubling. His voice softened, “I've never been more in awe of someone in my life.”

  “You aren't mad?” I asked as nerves had my stomach twisting into a knot.

  “Mad? Hell no! To see my parents get it back as good as they give it was awesome.”

  Dominic's eyes sparkled, “You can say that again. You're a lucky guy, Bastian.”

  Bastian took his seat, but his eyes never left mine. “You don't have to tell me that, bro, I already know. Let's order, I'm starving.”

  After dinner we said our goodbyes to Dominic, but not before I got his phone number. As Bastian and I headed back to Poppy's, my thoughts lingered on the disastrous encounter with his parents. Looking in Bastian's direction was impossible because I was embarrassed at how I had behaved: like a girl who had been raised by wolves. Bastian claimed that he was okay with how I had spoken to his parents, but they were his parents and I had been exceedingly rude. I heard the words coming from my mouth before I even realized I intended to say them. “I'm really sorry I spoke to your parents the way I did. They were being insufferable, but that doesn't make my behavior right.”

  His knuckles brushed against my cheek. “Stop thinking about it. I would have torn into them harder if you hadn't beaten me to it. Dinner turned out to be really fun after they left, so please stop being so hard on yourself.” His eyes met mine and I saw the humor, “Aspire to more than a double-wide and six kids with different fathers.” He laughed out loud. “That was fucking priceless. I don't think I will ever forget the look on my mom's face when you said that.”

  I couldn't help the grin, because as appalled as I was with my behavior, there was a small part of me that had really enjoyed provoking them. My smiled faded though when I thought of Bastian and Dominic growing up under the thumb of those people.

  “How did you and your brother manage to stay so down to earth?”

  “I honestly don't know.”

  “I always thought being invisible was the worse way to grow up, but I think maybe being oppressed is.”

  “I'm moving out; I already found an apartment,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I'm 19 and I make good money at the garage. Besides I've spent most of the past year crashing at Dom's.”

  My heart ached hearing that he had spent much of the last year at his brother's because it only reinforced how bad his life at home must have been.

  “What are you thinking?”
He asked.

  “I'm thinking I'm happy for you.”

  “Maybe you could help me decorate my place?”

  “I'd love to.”

  We rode in silence for a bit before I asked, “I don't believe that you don't know what you want to do with your life, because you're too together for that. What is it you want to do?”

  He smiled as he continued to watch the road, so I took a moment to study the beautiful lines of his profile. “See, you know me better than anyone. I want to be an architect with a focus on restoration.” He looked at me and added, “Columbia has an excellent program.”

  “Did you apply?” I couldn't help my excitement at the idea of us going to Columbia together.

  “Yes.”

  “And?” I wanted to smack him for keeping me in suspense.

  “I was accepted.”

  “Are you kidding? You're seriously considering going to Columbia?”

  “I already was before I even met you, but now that I know it's where you're going to be, I'm absolutely going to Columbia.”

  “How will you pay for it? I can't imagine your parents will help, especially knowing that I'll be there.”

  “My parents set up a trust for me when I was younger. I suspect they only did so because it was the thing to do and they are all about image. In this case, their vanity worked in my favor, because I gained access to the funds when I turned eighteen.”

  I couldn't help the smile I gave him, it matched the one he was giving me.

  “Why didn't you tell your parents what you want to do next year?”

  “They aren't interested in knowing what will make me happy. They're only concerned about how what I do will affect them, so fuck them.”

  I understood what he was feeling. Maybe it was because we were both broken souls, we connected to each other as quickly and as powerfully as we had.

  “You don't mind, do you, that I'm following you to Columbia?” He asked almost nervously.

  “No!”

  He chuckled at my adamant answer.

  “I realize we're young, but I don't see my feelings for you ever changing; it's different with you,” I said.

  “It is different. I feel it too.”

  “Are you free on Tuesday?” I asked.

  “On my birthday, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am,” he said with a wink.

  “Can you come to Alfonso's? I have to work, but I have something I would like to give you.”

  “A present?” He asked with excitement.

  “Yes.”

  “Sweet. What time?”

  “About six,” I suggested.

  “I'll be there.”

  ***

  I had a few days to pull it all together. I called Caden and asked him to tell the others at the garage the day and the time, texted Dominic, Brad and Jim, asking Jim to pass on the word to Bastian's soccer teammates. I even contacted Mr. Carter and invited him and his wife, Marnie.

  Mr. Alfonso ended up being really cool about it, and not only reserved a section of the restaurant for the party, but also said he'd provide the pizzas, fries and sodas free of charge. I tried to pay him, but he said I was family and he wouldn't hear of it.

  Sophia, Shawn and Poppy were currently crepe-papering our section so it looked like a clown had thrown up, but I couldn't deny that it did look very festive. I even made the cake, a big chocolate cake, from scratch. I sneaked a little and it was really good.

  A few minutes before six, we heard the sound of Bastian's bike and we all took our places. He pulled the door open just as everyone screamed, “Surprise.”

  His focus zeroed in on me and all of his friends standing behind me. A smile spread over his face.

  “Happy birthday, Bastian.”

  He pulled me into his arms and kissed me: quick but full of meaning. “A party?”

  “More like hanging with pizza, soda and cake, a big chocolate cake that I made.”

  “From scratch?”

  “Yep.”

  He responded by kissing me again.

  The party was a success—Bastian had a smile on his face all night.

  At one point I stood back watching as Bastian and his teammates laughed and joked with one another. I didn't notice that Dominic had come up next to me until he spoke my name.

  “This was really great, Lark. I like seeing my brother so happy. He told me he's going to Columbia next year. I'm happy for both of you.”

  Studying Dominic, I noticed tension creep into his expression and the hard set of his jaw.

  “What's wrong?” I asked.

  “I just want you to watch your backs, because I don't think you've heard the last from my parents. Besides being snobs, they are also vindictive.”

  My heart lodged into my throat in response to his warning. What had I done? Dom clearly had no trouble reading my thoughts, “I don't want to scare you, but I don't want you to be blindsided either. My parents are nothing if not predictable.”

  “Their interest in Bastian's future isn't really about Bastian, is it?”

  “No. They never paid him any attention when he was younger, but now it's all about money and more than the money, image. Both sons refuse to follow in their old man's footsteps. What will people think?”

  “Working for your father isn't what Bastian wants to do with his life, either.”

  “It doesn't matter to my parents. They never bothered to get to know their son, so they think if they apply just the right amount of pressure, they can bend him to their will.”

  “He won't bend.”

  “Not willingly. They'll come at you, because to them you are the reason Bastian isn't falling in with their wishes.”

  Ominous and exactly what I feared.

  “I've never seen my brother so happy and I think he makes you just as happy. Remember that, and remember that my parents only have power if you give it to them.”

  “Thanks, Dom.” I watched as he joined Bastian and I was thankful for his words of warning, but I couldn't help the overwhelming belief that his parents held power whether I gave it to them or not.

  Later in the night after everyone went home, Bastian and I sat in Alfonso's after we broke down the party.

  “This was the best birthday that I've ever had.” Tenderness rang in his voice.

  “I still have to give you your present.”

  “I thought the party was the present.”

  “Only part of the present,” I said.

  “You didn't have to get me anything, Lark.”

  “I know.” Resting against the back wall was a large rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper. Retrieving it, I offered it to him. “Happy birthday.”

  “You really didn't need to do this.”

  “I know, but you must admit it's fun to have something to open.”

  He grinned. “Ab so-fuckin'-lutely.”

  He unwrapped the package to reveal my painting, Mainstream, which I had had framed. He stared at it for so long I worried that maybe I had been wrong about his reaction to the painting that day in the art room. I tried to explain the reasoning behind the gift.

  “I thought it could be another visual reminder for you to hold fast to your dreams.”

  He moved so fast, lifting from his chair and pulling me into his arms. He buried his face in my hair.

  He didn't say anything at first, seemingly lost in his thoughts, but then his head lifted and our gazes lock. The rawness of his voice spoke to the emotions burning through him. “I've never been given anything so incredible.”

  “It fits you,” I said.

  He touched a lock of my hair and a grin tugged at his mouth, “A little bird told me your birthday is coming up. November 7th, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good to know.”

  “You don't have to do anything. Hanging with you and the gang is enough for me.”

  “I'll take that under advisement.”

  “Why do I get the sense that you are already plotting?”


  He framed my face with his hands, “Because you know me so well. Thank you for tonight and for your painting. I really do love it.”

  “Happy birthday.”

  He responded by kissing me.

  ***

  The smell of oatmeal raisin cookies drew me into the kitchen to find Deena and Carol making a huge mess. Lucky for me, they were just pulling a tray from the oven. I adored their oatmeal raisin cookies.

  Carol saw me first and smiled in greeting. “Hey, Lark. You're just in time.”

  “What's the occasion?” I asked while settling on a stool at the kitchen island.

  “Cheerleading social,” Deena said.

  “Where's Aunt Kim?”

  “My uniform's a little too big, so she's taking it in for me.”

  Not sure why that hurt, but it did. “Oh.”

  “There's plenty of cookies, do you want some?”

  “Please.”

  As I was reaching for a cookie, Carol asked, “Is that boy who picks you up in the morning your boyfriend?”

  My face grew warm at the joy of sharing such a girl moment with my cousins. “Yes, he's my boyfriend.”

  “Oh, Lark. He's so beautiful,” Deena said dreamily. “What's his name?”

  “Bastian.”

  “And he drives a motorcycle, that's so sexy.” Carol climbed onto the stool next to me and added, “Are those tattoos on his arms real?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow, I bet that hurt.” Deena took a bite from her cookie. “What's he like?”

  “He plays soccer and likes to work on cars. He's smart and funny. Kind, like down-to-the-bone kind.” A glance at the girls made it clear they wanted more. “He makes my knees weak and my heart pound. When he kisses me, I never want him to stop.”

  “Oh, man.” Deena sounded dangerously close to whining. “You're in love with him.”

  “I really am.”

  “And him?” Carol asked.

  “Fell just as hard.”

  “You're so lucky,” they said in unison and Carol added, “I wish I had a boy like that. Mom would never approve.”

  An icy chill worked down my spine and I glanced behind me to see Aunt Kim standing in the doorway. She clutched Deena's uniform so tightly her knuckles were turning white.