Chapter 1

I winced, looking at my reflection in the floor-length mirror. “It won’t work,” I grumbled, pulling down the black pencil dress that Angela, my way-too-bossy best friend, made me wear.

“Why not?”

I turned around, meeting the genuine confusion on Angela’s face. “Do you really need to ask?”

She frowned. “Yes, I really do. You look stunning!” She adjusted the wide red belt higher on my waist and took a couple of steps back before sitting on the corner of the bed, crossing her long leg like a graceful Ballerina. Angela had more grace in her little toe than I had in my whole body.

I huffed with exasperation turning back toward the mirror, twisting my mouth with indecision at my reflection. The sophisticated hairdo, the smoky eyes and red lips, the red blouse and tight pencil skirt – it wasn’t me, not even a little.

“Don’t look so disgusted, it’s offensive. You said you liked the new collection and now it seems like you’d rather be caught dead than to go out in this outfit.” She sighed. “It’s great for my self-confidence.”

I rolled my eyes. “This guilt won’t work, Angela.” She was a great designer, and she knew it. She had built her own company while modeling and had been in Vogue five times both for her looks and designs before turning 30.

I sighed in rendition, turning toward her again. “Yes, I do love your new collection.” I admitted sitting beside her on the bed.

Angela’s bed was high as both she and Tom were tall. I looked down, and while my best friend’s legs were gracefully folded, they still touched the floor, mine were dangling like a child’s.

I shook my head in defeat. “I love these clothes on you, Ange. It looks stunning on a 5’10, size 4 blond goddess like you.” I ran my forefinger back and forth on the hem of the skirt which rose above my knees as I sat down. “It doesn’t look so hot on the 5’3, size 14 plain jane.”

Angela’s mouth tightened in frustration. “I’d love for you to see yourself how I see you – for once.”

“You love me,” I replied.

“I – do.” She trailed off, visibly confused about my train of thought. “You need to rewind honey and give me the cliff notes.”

This was a common occurrence with me and even after over twenty years of friendship, I still managed to confuse her. Sometimes my thoughts were going faster than my mouth and it was like jumping chapters of a book.

“I mean that your vision of me is biased because you love me. For you, I will always be beautiful.” I gave her a half shrug. “Love makes you blind, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, I am not blind! When I see you in your sweatpants, in desperate need of a shower because you and Tom spent thirty-six hours playing online for some stupid wizard quests…believe me, at that moment, you look horrendous and my husband?” She grimaced. “He puts me off for a few days.”

I chuckled, waving my hand dismissively. “You knew what you were doing when you adopted a geek as a best friend, and you joined the club when you married into geekhood.”

She tried to scowl but the smile tucking at her lips defeated the attempt. She stood up, pulling me up with her. “Anyway, any discussion on this is pointless. You promised to let me play dress-up with you for one night.”

I grimaced, pulling at that stupid skirt once more. “Yes, but it was for your 30^th birthday. You said you wanted to do a makeover. I was a bit drunk, I said yes but…” I turned toward the mirror again. “It was months ago, I’m pretty sure the statute of limitation has run out on that gift, come to think of it.”

I met her gaze in the mirror. My best friend rolled her eyes before swirling me around, keeping her hands tightly on my shoulders. “Don’t go all lawyer on me, you didn’t give me an expiration date, and tonight is the night.”

I pulled on my skirt once more. “Okay, let’s just get tonight over with.” I resigned myself to defeat.

“That’s the spirit!” Angela chirped, ignoring my sore mood. “Now, get this juicy butt into gear. You gave me one evening and I really intend to make the best of it.”

“I really intend to make the best of it.” I mimicked with a high-pitched voice following her down the stairs.

Tom and their seven-year-old son George were waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs by the door. George was already dressed up in his cute Star Wars pajamas that I’d bought him for Christmas.

“Oh, Auntie Ale, you look so pretty,” he said in awe, taking a step toward me. “You look like a girl.”

I chuckled, ruffling his thick, dark, tightly coiled hair. “Do you like me like that?” I asked, readjusting the belt around my waist.

“I always like you.” He grinned, reaching for my hand.

My smile widened. That kid was such a charmer, like his mother.

“What do you want buddy?”

He pointed behind him. “Dad bought the new Lego game today, wanna play with us?”

Angela glared at Tom who looked away with a guilty smile.

I looked longingly at the PlayStation and the bowl of popcorn. What wouldn’t I give to trade this stupid skirt for my sweatpants and play with my boys all evening?

Angela crossed her arm on her chest. “Tom, you promised to wait.” She pointed a finger at the TV. “You know our son must be in bed by 8pm.” She looked suspiciously between the two people who, I knew, were the loves of her life. These two were a team, thick as thieves.

She looked at Tom again. “He’s got school tomorrow, not everyone is on vacation.”

Tom shrugged, a small smile tugging on his wide lips. “The perks of being a university professor.” He turned toward me. “You scrub up well, munchkin.” He pulled me in one of his overwhelming papa bear hugs. “Say the codeword if you need me to get you out of there,” he whispered, only half-joking.

I chuckled, patting his back. “Don’t worry, I’ll survive Angela.”

“Hey! Hey! No! No scheming!” She broke our hug. “Come on, you’re going to wrinkle her blouse.” She sighed resting her perfectly manicured hands on her narrow hips. “Seriously, one evening!” She pointed her forefinger up. “I’m asking you ONE evening and you are being difficult.”

Tom and I looked at each other sheepishly. Ange put up with our crap all the time. All I had to do was pretend not to hate it as much as I did.

“Fine.” I sighed. “Come on, let’s go.” I looked once more at the boys and the amazing evening ahead of them. “You have fun, okay?”

Tom nodded, giving Georgie a piggyback. “Try to have fun tonight.”

I nodded. “I’ll do my best, let me know how the game is, we can maybe play tomorrow.”

“Uber’s here!” Angela shouted, and I knew she only wanted to get out of the house before I could think of a reason to stay home.

*****************

The bar Angela picked was not one of our usual hang-out spots but again, as I was not wearing my usual jeans and large shirts, I was quite grateful we went somewhere I would never go again.

I looked around; most of the customers of the bar were men in suits. “Is there anything I’m missing?”

“Nope…” Angela gave me a mischievous grin. “I’ve researched our night out for a long time, my friend. I knew it was probably my only chance to play dress-up with you, I wanted to make it count.”

“What did you do? Google ‘bars for male professionals?’”

At Angela’s slight blush, I burst into laughter. The kind of full belly, teary-eyes laugh – probably the most unattractive laugh there was, but so liberating.

“You did, didn’t you?”

Angela threw me a dark look. “No, I didn’t just…shut up.” She finished rather lamely, confirming that I wasn’t far from the truth. “I – oh, get lost. I’ll get us some drinks.”

I was still chuckling when she came back with two very brightly colored cocktails.

“What is that?” I asked, suspiciously eyeing the electric blue of the cocktail in front of me.

Angela straightened in her chair. “Won’t tell you, you dare mock your friend and expect my secrets?” She shook her head. “It’s a no from me.”

I took a sip of the cocktail, the aftertaste of pineapple, a clear tell of a Blue Hawaiian. “Come on, you’re always so perfect compared to us mere mortals. It feels so good to be able to laugh at you occasionally.”

Angela threw me her best glare before taking a sip of her drink.

My grin widened as I looked down at my drink, mixing the cocktail with the little pink umbrella.

“May I buy you a drink?” asked a deep voice. I rolled my eyes, keeping my head down. Here we go… It never took much time for men to start hitting on Angela despite the shiny wedding ring she always proudly displayed.

Angela’s pointy shoe connected not too softly with my shin.

I looked at her startled as she jerked her head to her right.

I glanced up and met a pair of amused eyes. I frowned, detailing the man standing in front of our table. He was wearing a grey suit, nothing quite uncommon about it but working with Angela for years allowed me to see that it was a perfect cut, tailor-made for this man. I looked down at his shoes, black, long, shiny … expensive. My grandma used to say that you could say a lot about a person based on their shoes and this man was breathing money. My eyes trailed up his long muscly legs, wide chest, broad shoulders, golden-brown skin, strong stubborn jaw, square chin, full, sensuous lips, straight nose, almond-shaped cornflower blue eyes, black, lustrous, curly hair.

All in all, he was a splendid male specimen and weirdly enough he was turned toward me.

“What?” I asked, oh so gracefully when I finished staring at him.

His smile widened, flashing a perfect set of straight pearl white teeth. Of course, he had perfect teeth, that man was the poster boy for Photoshop – ridiculous!

Angela’s pointy shoe connected with my shin once again. I winced and glared at her; this one was so hard I suspected I was bleeding.

“I asked if you wanted to have a drink with me,” he asked, visibly undeterred by my less-than-classy attitude.

“Why?” I asked and moved my legs quickly enough to avoid Angela’s unforgiving shoe. I smiled victoriously at her when she missed.

“Why not?” he insisted, seemingly oblivious to the silent war going on between Ange and me.

I opened my mouth but closed it again, not sure how I could answer a ‘why not’. “There is no space,” I insisted as the thought of blowing it with that guy really didn’t sit well with me.

Ange stood up, her phone in her hand. “Just take my seat for a little while, I have a couple of calls to make.”

I threw her a look I hoped conveyed both my anger and desperation. She couldn’t leave me here with Model Boy! I was barely socially functioning on the best of days, being alone with him would probably lead to nothing less than a disaster.

I was used to making a fool of myself. I’d had years of experience really but never before in front of someone so aesthetically perfect.

Oh well, there was a first time for everything. Unable to contain my sigh before sipping on my drink, I studied the stunning man sitting across from me.

He was looking back at me, his eyes lit with amusement, a shadow of a smile on his luscious lips.

I narrowed my eyes slightly. What was his end game? “You know, if you’re trying to get friendly with me to get with Angela, you’re wasting your time. I’m not easy to befriend, and Angela is happily married.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, letting his long fingers travel up and down his beer bottle. “I’m sure you’re easier to befriend than you’re giving yourself credit for. As for your friend, it’s a good thing I’m not sitting here for her, because she just got into a taxi.”

I turned around so briskly I almost fell off my chair. Yeah… How to be poised. I looked around the bar and despite being busy I knew I wouldn’t have missed the lithe beauty Angela was. “I just…” I shook my head. No, it wasn’t possible – Angela knew how awkward I was in a social situation, she wouldn’t do that. “Something must have happened – She wouldn’t,” I muttered mostly to myself.

I grabbed my phone on the table, ignoring the man still sitting across from me. Why was he even still there? I was being far from pleasant.

I was about to call Angela when a text popped up on the screen. Decided to go home, everything is fine. Enjoy your evening with hunky man *wink wink*

I looked at the man still staring at me and I blushed under the intensity of his scrutiny. People never bothered giving me a second glance.

You’re so dead. I texted back before jamming the phone furiously in my bag.

His smile broadened, as he leaned closer crossing his arms on the table.

“Are you a sociopath?” I blurted before wanting to bury myself under the shame of my question. And so, it begins….

He chuckled; his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I must admit I’ve never been asked that before. Well no, I’m not, at least I don’t think so. Are you?”

I shook my head, still muted by my own embarrassment.

He nodded. “Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way, maybe we try to get to know each other better, don’t you think? What’s your name?”

“Ale- Alessandra but my friends call me Al or Ale. Well, some call me Sandra but I’m not a fan and –” Just shut up, Ale.

He extended his hand. “Well nice to meet you, Alessandra.”

I looked at his hand, somehow reluctant to take it. I was alone in a bar with an Adonis, no friend, no safety net to get me out of this nightmare in the making. I knew my hands were probably clammy, and there was no way I would touch him.

“We already established I’m not a sociopath.” He grinned, exposing dimples. I almost wanted to roll my eyes at this little detail. Could he be more perfect?

I wiped my hand on my skirt as discreetly as I could before taking his hand, and as his soft, warm palm engulfed mine, I felt shivers go up my arm to the back of my neck.

I let go of his hand rather briskly and folded my hands on my lap, far from any temptation to see if the tanned skin was as soft as it looked.

“And what’s your name?”

It took a couple of seconds for him to answer. “Nathan… my name is Nathan.”

I frowned ever so slightly at the hesitation. Was it even a hesitation? I cursed myself, stupid work was getting to me again. Not everything you hear needs to be analyzed Ale, let it go.

“Nathan…” I repeated and suddenly his face lifted as if hearing his name pleased him.

“So, Alessandra, what are you doing as a living?”

“I’m a lawyer – I work for a fashion brand.”

“Oh, are you?” He cocked his head to the side. “I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“Why?” I pursed my lips as I felt the blush of anger hit my neck. “Is it the lawyer or the field I work in?” I shook my head, somehow not able to contain the disappointment I felt. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Either you think I’m too stupid to be a lawyer, or I don’t look the part, either way, you’re offending me.” I grabbed my bag and stood, intending to leave and somehow feeling relieved that I decided to make an escape before making a fool of myself.

He grabbed my forearm, not hard enough to cause discomfort but with enough strength to show me that he was not going to let go easily.

“I think you misinterpreted. You’re so… luminous and funny. Not really what I imagined of a company lawyer. If I offended you in any way, I’m sorry, you are not what I expected and it was meant as a compliment even if I had to admit it was delivered quite poorly.”

His seemingly genuine contrition mollified me. I looked at him, still clutching my bag.

“Please?” he added.

“I can’t stay late.”

“One drink, I promise.” He gestured to the chair I’d vacated.

I sighed. How much trouble could my mouth get me in over the course of just one drink? A lot… a lot of trouble was the correct answer, but I sat down, anyway. “One drink.”

He nodded, his bright smile back on his face, gesturing to the barman for a round of drinks. “I just thought you would…I just thought you would be the type of lawyer to save the widows and the orphans… You seem to radiate goodness.”

I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. “I’m saving the world of poor fashion one contract at a time.” It seemed quite ironic all things considered as my idea of dressing up was to swap my ratty sweatpants for a pair of jeans and the holey tee-shirt for one of my many pleated shirts.

“The world should thank you.” He joked.

I grinned, leaning back in my chair, starting to feel a bit more at ease. “What about you?”

“Ah.” He nodded, looking down at this beer. “I’m not saving the world.”

“We can’t all be doing that.”

His smile widened. “No, I guess we can’t. I’m an architect.”

“Oh!”

His smile widened. “See, should I get offended at the look of surprise on your face?”

I tried to school my features. “No, I…” I cleared my throat. “I’ve never met an architect before, that’s all.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Your life is now complete.”

I couldn’t help but snort at his comment. Way to be sexy Ale. “It must be quite fulfilling to see your creations take life.”

He nodded. “It really is, it’s like leaving a little piece of me to the world.”

“Quite a unique way to be immortal.”

He scrutinized my face as if this statement surprised him. “It really is.”

Things went well, and I was amazed to realize after an hour that I was enjoying myself.

“It’s getting late… I’ve to go.” And I was surprised by my own disappointment.

Nathan nodded as I ordered my ride home. “Let me walk you out.”

“You don’t have to.”

He smiled again, and I started to understand that while other men might be running from my social inadequacies, this one seemed amused by them.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” He helped me with my jacket. “Shall we?” He rested his hand on my back.

I nodded mutely and let him lead me outside, unsure of what to say.

As he stood on the sidewalk, he turned toward me, burying his hands in his pockets. “I would like to see you again.” He admitted, looking down at me, his eyes slightly cocked to the right.

“Why?” I had been a social disaster; I’d done pretty much everything that Angela and every women’s magazine ever told us not to do. He should have been running in the opposing direction, not standing close to me, asking for more.

“Why?” he asked, repeating me and then he laughed, leaning back on his heels. “Well, because you are genuine, it’s refreshing. You make me laugh more than I thought was possible, even if it is despite yourself but also because you are clever, witty, inquisitive, and absolutely lovely.”

I looked down at my shiny shoes and the piece of gum fused with the sidewalk. Compliments. That was the worst, I was not used to receiving them, and I was clueless on how to deal with them.

I looked up, trying to avoid his intuitive crystal-blue orbs which seemed to read me like an open book.

I could hear Angela so clearly in my head. Just say thank you, Ale. And yet, against my own advice, I pointed a finger to my outfit. “It’s all make-up and smart clothes you know – Smoke and mirrors.”

He leaned down, so close I smelled the mix of the beer on his breath and his woodsy aromatic cologne. “You should give me more credit, love, there isn’t much I haven’t already figured out,” he whispered close to my ear, making me shiver.

I looked over his shoulder and felt a wave of relief at the Uber rounding the corner. “My car is here!” I exclaimed, taking a couple of steps back, but he followed my lead, not letting me add the much-needed distance between us.

He looked at the car and took a step to the right, blocking my view and access to the car. “So, what do you say Alessandra? Lunch, you and me, tomorrow.”

“If I say yes, will you let me get into the car?” I fidgeted.

He brought his hand up and crossed his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“I don’t really think it’s how it’s done.”

“I don’t know.” He grinned leaning down. “I’ve never been a scout.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. I liked how, despite my nervousness and inadequacies, he still managed to make me feel at ease, at least as much as ease as I ever felt in the company of an attractive member of the opposite gender. “Yes.”

He rocked back on his heels. “One more thing – Can I have your phone?”

I tightened my hold on it, my phone was pretty much an extension of my person.

He raised his hands in surrender. “I just want to give you my number and call for you to have mine.”

“Oh yes that makes sense.” I was grateful for the low lighting in the street hiding my embarrassment. “Of course, we have to exchange numbers!” Basic and yet… I sighed.

As his smile wavered, I understood that he mistook my sigh for a sign of reluctance. “It’s alright. Take my number and send me yours if you feel like it.” He reached in his pocket and scribbled his phone number on the back of the bar receipt. “I’ll be waiting for you at 12:30 at Urban. I really hope you don’t change your mind.”

I shoved the piece of paper in my pocket as he moved out of the way.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked again as I opened the car door.

I looked at him for a minute, somehow still expecting it to be a joke, a dream, or even some kind of vivid fever-induced hallucination, but no, it was real – this more-than-gorgeous man wanted to spend time with me.

“Yes, see you then.”

Much later that night, when I was safely in my comfy bed in my favorite flannel pajamas – I kept thinking about the evening and Nathan.

“Nathan…” I let the name out as if to break the spell. I reached for my phone on the nightstand and stared at my new added contact still unsure of what to do. I ran my thumb on the smartphone screen over his name. I’d never been good at opening up to people, letting them in was the best way of getting hurt and I had been hurt enough for one lifetime.

It’s only your number Ale – not an organ. I knew it was a bit late to send a text, but he was the reason for my sleeplessness and therefore deserved to be woken up.

You can call me Ale. I texted, not sure of what else to say.

The answer came seconds later, before I even got a chance to put the phone back on the nightstand, at least it was good to know that he was as restless as I was.

See, befriending you was easy. See you tomorrow Ale 😉

Chapter 1

I looked at my phone and groaned. Today was the first day of junior year, a day just like all the other seven hundred and twenty odd days that high school typically lasted.

Up late, I jumped into a pair of faded blue jeans and grabbed one of my homemade “cause of the day” T-shirts. Glancing in the mirror, I shook my head. I didn’t have the time to sort the bird’s nest on my head. Throwing my hair up into a messy bun, I ran downstairs. I’d barely managed to put my flip-flops on when I heard rap music blaring, followed by a couple of quick horn blasts.

I grabbed my backpack and ran to the black Chevrolet parked in my driveway. Chago sat in the driver’s seat, a grin on his face.

“Chula! Estas bien?”

I chuckled. “Si Guapo.” I patted Chago’s knee. “I still can’t believe your brother gave you his car. And why on earth are you listening to this? You don’t even like rap.”

“I decided to give it a try.” He twisted his mouth, pretending to listen intently. “No?”

I shook my head, trying my best not to laugh.

He shrugged dismissively, backing out of my driveway. “Okay, well, tomorrow we should try Celine Dion,” he decided before looking at me with crossed eyes.

I couldn’t contain my laughter anymore. Chago Valdez was my best friend, my brother in all aspects of my life other than blood. His name was Santiago, but nobody called him that unless they wanted to get beaten up. I did use the “Santiago” card when I was mad at him though.

Chago and I met right after I’d moved to Montgomery back in second grade. My mother had been a young lawyer then. After my father passed away, my mother had started working at the East Side Legal Aid and put me in Elementary school there. That was where I’d met Chago. He’d defended me after a girl had threatened to beat me up. The connection between us had been instantaneous, and we have been friends ever since.

My mother never fully approved of the friendship. She had been a widow with a stubborn child. She wanted me out of the Eastside, acting as if Chago was a bad influence because of the color of his skin or his slight accent. I had proved her wrong over the years. I was the one getting Chago in trouble, not the other way around.

My mom started to work for a big corporate law firm. The more she worked, the more responsibilities she was given, and the less I saw her. Now, it had reached the point I was not even sure we lived in the same house anymore.

Despite what she thought of Chago, my mother had still helped him join Montgomery High School to be with me. As he lived on the other side of the freeway, he’d been meant to go to Eastside Preparatory College – a bad school with one of the lowest success rates in California, and deemed dangerous because of the high gang activity. Originally, she had been rather pleased we wouldn’t be together in school anymore. It made her cringe when I used more Spanish than English at home and in our many arguments. I’d even told her that Mama Valdez had been more of a mother to me than she had ever been. It was pretty harsh, I knew that, but sometimes, I couldn’t help myself.

When I was twelve, my mother had organized a work cocktail party and, as an act of rebellion, I’d invited Chago. My mother had been mortified, but unknowingly, I’d actually helped her. A potential big client, worth billions of dollars, was also from the Eastside. He’d thought that my mother, my obtuse mother, was a very open-minded woman to let her only daughter befriend a boy from the Eastside. He had been so impressed that he had signed with her, making my mom an associate of the firm.

Now, Chago was studying with me at Montgomery High School, which counted only a meager number of students from the Eastside. These students were usually invited to join based on their unique talents or exceptional results.

Despite the stereotypical view of the Eastside, not everybody was in a gang. Both Chago and his older brother Mateo, were gang-free. Their father Paco had died protecting some gang boss. As a form of gratitude, Mateo and Chago were free to not join the gang, and they were smart enough to enjoy that freedom.

This may have been another reason why we were so close. We were part of a very exclusive club; we had learned only too early what it was like to grieve a parent.

However, Chago being from the Eastside had an undeniable advantage. My smart mouth got me into loads of trouble with the pretty and popular, and it was only the fear of facing Chago that made them keep their distance from me.

“Man, I just lost five bucks,” he whined, detailing my clothes while we waited at the traffic light.

“Why?”

“Mateo and I bet on your shirt. He said you would wear something about animal protection and I thought it would be something related to the environment.”

“Stop betting on me! It’s degrading!” I exclaimed in mock hurt.

Chago winked. “So, Chula, do we need to go pick up Gaygan?”

“You know he wants to kick you when you call him that!”

“Nah, he doesn’t. He loves it.”

I chuckled. “Yes, he does.”

Gaygan was the nickname Chago had given to Logan Brier, the only other student that Chago and I were fond of. He was a year older and the Chief Editor of the school paper. We’d met Logan in Junior High when a band of seniors had wanted to beat him up and Chago had defended him. That was a recurring theme with Chago; he was always there to defend the weak and defenseless. He never judged anyone. He had been judged way too many times himself to ever do the same to others.

We gave Logan a place in our usual duo at school because misfits were stronger together. None of us really fitted in with the rest, but we loved it that way. Most people couldn’t wait to leave high school, and others, the popular ones, dreaded leaving it one day. Us? We just went along for the ride. We were El Bandito, the Anarchist and the Eccentric.

“He is probably already there. He is a senior now. He has to prepare the freshman-whatever-stuff.”

“Very eloquent,” he teased.

“I know, it’s a gift,” I sighed. “I hope we’ll have more classes together. Last year was painful.”

“I don’t know, Charlie. I sure as hell didn’t try to get into Advance Literature.”

“Well, except that,” I admitted, adjusting my bag as he parked the car.

“Dork!”

“Baboso!” I stuck my tongue out.

“Very mature.” He wrapped an arm around my neck after joining me on the pathway.

“You’re the one talking.” I nudged him with my hip as we walked through the school’s main doors to check our schedules.

Everybody in school presumed that Chago and I were dating. We never cared enough to deny it. Truthfully, we could never date; we knew way too many embarrassing things about each other. We’d gone through the awkward phases of puberty together, confiding in one another since we didn’t have anyone else. I could never see Chago as a potential boyfriend after that and I knew he felt the same.

“Charlotte Miller,” I heard a commanding voice say as soon as we crossed the threshold to the main hall.

I did my best not to roll my eyes. “Principal Webber, I missed you this summer!” I exclaimed with an angelic smile.

“Of course, you did,” he replied before locking eyes with Chago. “Mr. Valdez, why don’t you go check your schedule?”

Chago nodded, understanding it was a dismissal and not a suggestion.

“I’ll see you later, Guapo.” I winked at him. “Worst case scenario, meet me for lunch at our usual table.”

I knew the principal didn’t like me much and it had all started when my mother had convinced the school board to let Chago join the school. He was living at the limit of the district, and she’d scared them with parity and other legal gibberish. To be fair, the principal had had no problem with Hispanics or even people from the Eastside, but he didn’t like being overruled and he particularly despised the rules being bent.

To be fair, I also gave him a lot of reasons to be exasperated over the past two years. I was an activist and regarded as a “troublemaker,” which I thought was unfair. I was only speaking my mind loud and clear, trying to think outside the box they were forcing us into.

“You are a junior now. It’s time to think about your future, college, and career.” He walked beside me down the corridor toward the administrative office.

“I’m thinking, sir, thinking hard.” In truth, whilst I wanted to be a journalist, I was still unsure about all the steps I would follow to get there.

“You finished last year with very good grades in almost every subject,” he continued.

I nodded. I knew science was my weakness and I was dreading Physics class this year.

“You know, tutoring would look good on your college applications.”

I looked up, my eyes slanted with incredulity. “Have you met me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, giving his face a disapproving scowl.

“I’m not what you can call sociable. I’m not very patient and I don’t like people that much. I would be the worst tutor Montgomery High has ever seen.” I chuckled. “Hell! I think Mau Tse Tung would even be a better tutor in Human Rights than I would be.”

The crease between his eyebrows deepened, showing that my attempt at a joke had fallen flat.

“Maybe it’s time to change,” he stressed, his tone reproachful.

Maybe it’s time to butt out! I sighed, knowing that this discussion would only cause me an hour-long speech of painful boredom. “I’ll consider it.”

“Good, good.” He smiled, pleased with himself. “Here’s your schedule. You’re lucky to have been accepted into the Advanced Literature class. The selection process was very competitive.”

I bet! “Thank you,” I replied with fake cheerfulness, then left before I said something I would regret. Payaso!

As soon as I exited the office, Logan dropped his group of freshmen and trotted toward me. It always amazed me to see that despite his gangly 6’4’’ frame, he could be as graceful as a ballerina.

“And here we have our little Miss NGO,” he leered with his usual cheeky grin. “She is a member of PETA, Amnesty International, Red Cross, Greenpeace, and I don’t know what else.”

I turned around and looked into his eyes. His contacts were violet today to match his Converse shoes.

“I’m also a member of ‘Leave me alone, or I’ll kick your ass’.” I added deadpanned, nudging him. “How are you doing, bud? Ready for the fresh blood?”

“Yes. I want to know if ‘The Cure’ has some new comics ready for the paper or even a small, acidic chronicle.”

I shrugged, looking down at my schedule, taking the direction of the lockers, knowing full well that Logan would follow me until I gave him an answer.

“I don’t know, but I can ask him if you want,” I replied playfully.

“You do that. Where to?” he asked, glancing at my schedule over my shoulders.

“Locker first, then Calculus.”

The Cure was a sort of pirate writer for the paper. He also drew funny, engaged comics that were both loved and hated by the students. No matter how entertaining The Cure was, the students all feared to be the target of his cold abrasiveness. Everybody thought it was a guy, probably a senior, as you had to be, and I quote, “gutsy” to write those things. The principal would have loved nothing more than to forbid his publications, but it was satirical, and he knew Logan was a fervent defender of the freedom of speech. The “pretty and popular” would have probably paid good money to find out The Cure’s identity, but only two people in school knew the real identity of The Cure: Logan and Chago. I was him. Yes, Charlotte “Charlie” Miller was The Cure! The underground chief of an inexistent rebellion. I was saying “out loud” what everybody thought. I wondered how that would look on my college applications.

“Very well then.” Logan rested his back on the locker beside mine, legs crossed at the ankles while scanning the corridor up and down. “Oh, by the way, we’ve got a new teacher in charge of the newspaper, thank God!” he exclaimed dramatically. “Old creepy Miss Jane is no more.”

“Uh huh…” I replied absentmindedly, organizing my locker. I knew better than to listen to him when he was in “Gossip Queen” mode.

“Yeah, it’s the new lit teacher, Mulligan. In his forties, but he’s damn hot.”

I looked at him with my best “dude-what-the-freak” face, making him chuckle.

“First of all, eww, and second, who don’t you find hot?” I shook my head.

“I don’t know,” he said and shrugged. “Him.” He pointed at a random guy in the corridor.

“You know what, let’s stop the crazy talk. It’s only day one, but who knows, I might get inspired by the end of the day,” I trailed off.

He nodded. “Where is Chago? You guys are usually joined at the hip.”

“Yes, we are, but Principal Webber wanted to have a talk with me.”

Logan winced.

“It was speech number 2316, AKA the classic ‘It’s time to think about your future’ talk.” I shoved a book in my bag with a sigh of irritation.

“Also known as the ‘it’s time to fit the mold and stop questioning everything or you’ll fail in life’ speech.” Logan jested, but I could hear the cold edge in his voice. He was the president of the teen LGBT association, and that was why he had a certain status and power within these walls. The principal couldn’t be too hard on him without risking a discrimination accusation. But everybody wanted to make him change, and I knew it was taking a toll on him even if he was doing his best to hide it. It seemed that Chago and I were the only ones accepting him without restriction.

I reached for his hand and squeezed it tight. “We’re still on for tonight?”

“Tonight?” Logan cocked his head.

“Yes. Chago, you and I. Pizza at my house? You know the first day back ritual I-” I stopped, staring at him. “You forgot?!”

Logan grimaced, his neck reddening with embarrassment. “Sorry, the new boss wants to see the whole team tonight and I still have to finish preparing the senior-freshman gathering. Do you mind if we do that tomorrow?”

I shook my head, starting to walk to my first class as I was now running late. “Tomorrow’s fine; it’s not like I have any obligations at home.”

Logan grabbed my hand and pulled me into a hug before I could escape.

“Chula, Gaygan,” Chago greeted, wrapping an arm around my neck as soon as Logan let me go. “’Sup, dude?”

“Busy, busy.” Logan fist-bumped Chago. “I’ll tell you at lunch. See you guys later.”

Chago reached for my schedule. “Calculus too, chica? They really like to torture us as soon as we wake up.”

We sat at the back, side by side. Chago gave me his own schedule. We had three classes together. First-period Calculus, third period PE, and fifth-period History.

“French?” I gasped. “That’s hard shit, Chago.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted Spanish, you know.” He rolled his eyes. “An easy way out, but they outsmarted me. They gave me French, my second option. I never thought they would.”

I smiled encouragingly, giving him my schedule. “Worst case scenario, I’ll find you help. Logan aced it last year.”

He pointed an accusing finger at my schedule. “How come you managed to get Spanish?” he asked, offended. “You speak it almost as well as I do!”

“I know, but I’m a gringa.” I rubbed my pale arm, a striking contrast to the warm bronze glow of his skin. “And my name is Miller. I’m a winner.” I winked.

“Humph…” He pouted, looking forward as the teacher entered the classroom. “Now I’ll finish thirty minutes after you three times a week.”

I snorted. “I think I can survive thirty minutes without mi hombre,” I whispered to him.

“If you keep your mouth shut, you might,” he muttered, and I knew he was only half-joking.

The rest of the morning went fast and I knew I would be paired with Chago in PE. It was not a surprise because nobody else wanted to pair up with him. If only they could see past appearances and area codes, they would meet such an amazing guy.

By lunch, Logan had all the first-day gossip ready for us. Truth be told, neither of us cared, but he enjoyed it so much, so we played along.

“You really sound like Perez Hilton; do you know that?” I asked, biting into my cheese sandwich.

“Don’t go around complimenting the guy,” Chago said, elbowing me teasingly. “He might dye his hair pink.”

Logan snorted. “And let go of my magnificent blond hair which took me months to achieve? I think not!”

I looked at Chago, and we shared a smile at Logan’s offense as we let him go on. Logan often listened to Chago talk about cars or sports, and he listened to me rant about political crises, human rights, or animal rights issues, so we did owe him this much.

We had our table just by the emergency exit. It was funny, but I couldn’t remember sitting anywhere else. It was our table, a silent lease, as most of the tables were tacitly assigned. The center of the room, or rather the center of the high school world, was occupied by the jocks and cheerleaders. The further you were from this inner circle, the more of a social outcast you were. We were even beyond that invisible limit; the only difference was that, for us, it was a choice, not an obligation.

The afternoon classes went smoothly. My classmates and I had a mutual understanding to ignore each other. I did well until History class came around.

I sat in the back, resting my bag on the table beside mine, waiting for Chago to arrive.

“That’s my seat.” The high-pitched voice made me cringe.

I looked up to meet the brown eyes of Brittany, whatever her surname was, the co-captain of the cheerleading team.

“That’s your seat?” I asked, touching the chair.

“Uhm, yeah.” She played with a strand of her blond hair, chewing her gum loudly. I couldn’t believe it; she was trying to kick me out of my seat and was giving me attitude about it.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see your name on it.” I pretended to stand up and turned around. “Oh wait… no.” I frowned. “No, your name is not on it.” I let out an overplayed sigh. “Well, tough job, doll, you’ll have to pick another seat.”

“Douuuug, she doesn’t want to move!” she whined, resting her hands on her hips.

The big guy sitting on the other side of me stood up, glaring down at me.

I returned his glare even if I had to crane my neck up to look at him. Maybe Chago was right. I wouldn’t survive half an hour without him if I kept the attitude, but I just couldn’t help it. I hated bullies.

“Maybe she didn’t hear you clearly.” He stood closer to me, all tall and menacing. “She told you it’s her seat,” he hissed, tightening his hands into fists.

I did my best to hide my smile. If he was trying to scare me, he was in for a treat. “And maybe you didn’t hear me with your steroid damaged brain. I. AM. NOT. MOVING.” I enunciated each word slowly.

He bared his teeth at me. “I’m warning you, you little—”

“Oye, Pendejo,” Chago greeted coldly, standing behind me, his hands tightly anchored on my shoulders. “If you’ve got something to say to her, you say it to me. Entiendes?”

Doug’s eyes widened slightly as he took a step back. Doug might have a few inches on Chago’s 5’7’’ height, but Chago’s taut frame, buzz haircut, dark eyes, and impressive tattoos were enough to make anyone with half a brain step back.

“So, what’s the problem?” Chago insisted, tightening his hold on my shoulders almost painfully. He was clearly mad at me too.

“There is no problem,” Doug conceded before taking his bag and moving row.

“That’s what I thought,” Chago confirmed, taking Doug’s seat.

“You didn’t need to defend me,” I whispered, slightly angry after Doug and Brittany left. “I can fight my own battles.”

“Come on! Have you looked at yourself lately? You’re 5’2’’! We need at least four of you to make one like him.” He pursed his lips in disapproval.

“So?”

He grunted in frustration. “Yeah, well, we’ll see what Mateo thinks of you provoking a football player.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” I hissed, narrowing my eyes.

“Try me,” he challenged, returning my glare.

“Soplón!”

“I love you too, Chula,” he chuckled as the teacher called the class to order.

The last period was actually enjoyable. The new literature teacher, who I now knew was called Adam Mulligan, was rather fun. The list of books for Advanced Lit were surprising, yet interesting choices.

“Some of the books you have to read are the same one’s required by the Seniors in normal Lit class, so don’t go around showing off like you’re smarter.”

It wasn’t stupid advice as some of the geeks here seemed to have a masochistic streak. I had to admit I also had this masochistic streak more often than not.

“In this class I want you to learn to think outside the box. Don’t try to express the dictate of our society. When you write a paper on one of these books, I want your opinion, your real opinion, pressed by your own logical argumentation.” He sat on the edge of his desk, burying a hand in his pocket. It was what I called the “casual-cool,” the friendly teacher style.

I rolled my eyes, but smiled. He seemed nice enough, and even if I wouldn’t admit it, Logan had been right for once. He was attractive for an old man. Well, not

“old.” My mother would have kicked me hard if she had heard me refer to a person in his forties as old, but for me, it still seemed like an eternity away.

“I don’t want to read a general opinion I could have gotten straight from Google. You will never get a bad grade from expressing and explaining an opinion, even if it’s the opposite of what the majority think.” He smiled. “Even if it’s completely different from what I think.” He stood up and walked up and down the aisles. “Think for yourself, that’s all I’m asking for,” he added, tapping my desk as he walked by.

I frowned, deciding to ignore the gesture. Usually, teachers didn’t spend much extra time on me. I spoke my mind way too much, so they found me challenging at best. This teacher probably needed a week or two to figure that out. When the class was over, I found Chago leaning on the lockers across the hall, arms crossed on his chest, looking all dark and menacing.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re not helping with the rumors, you know,” I whispered, interlocking my arm with his.

“Nothing will, Chula, and you know that. They had me pegged as dangerous and psychotic the day I crossed the threshold. I’m just giving them what they expect to see.”

“Not that you enjoy it or anything,” I teased, throwing him a sideways glance.

“Not that I enjoy it or anything,” he confirmed with a half-smile. “So where are we going?” he asked as we headed in the direction of his car. “Since our usual ‘first-day’ ritual has been pushed back.”

I shrugged. “It’s not like my mother will be home,” I sneered, not able to conceal the bitterness in my voice. I knew she was working hard. I knew people were counting on her, but what about me? I was counting on her too! She had let me down too many times to count. I’d lost my father in a car accident years ago, and progressively I had lost my mother too.

Chago just looked at me for a couple of seconds before starting the car. He knew better than to try to make me feel better about that.

“Let’s go home. I bet mama and Mateo are dying to know about our first day,” he soothed, his face softening as it did only for me. “You’re always making them laugh with the offensive version of you. I swear sometimes Che Guevara had nothing on you.”

As we headed in the direction of the freeway, I realized that for the vast majority of students in school, it was crazy to go to the Eastside, and if you were white and rich or from the upper middle class, it was even worse. They usually did it out of stupidity, on a dare, or for the thrill of danger, but for me, it was my second home. There I was the “Gringa Valdez,” a part of the vecindad. It was somewhere where people cared for me.

Chapter  1 – Amber

I jolted awake due to the wailing of the infant in the Pack ‘N Play beside me.  Rolling over in my single bed, I looked at the clock. It was already 5:00 am. I had to be up in an hour anyway.

I yawned, stretching my sore back, trying my best to fight my urge to fall back asleep. I turned and stood up, looking at Timmy for a couple of seconds before picking him up. “Someone’s hungry.” I smiled at him.

His cries never bothered me. I cherished them – every single one of them because I knew I could lose them at any moment. Timmy’s sick heart could give in and take him away from me, so every minute with him was precious.

I rocked him gently as I went to prepare his bottle. My smile vanished when I realized how little formula was left. I would only have enough for today… But that had to be a problem for later. Right now only Timmy’s feeding mattered.

I prepared his bottle, mixed his heart medication in, and, as usual, got lost in his beautiful, emerald eyes as he drank. Eyes so similar to his father’s. A father he had never met and never would as Eddie had died seven weeks before Timmy’s birth. .

“It’s going to be fine, my boy,” I whispered, trying to convince him as much as myself.

Once I’d finished his feeding, I changed his diaper and prepared his diaper bag.

I only had enough formula for his next three feedings. I checked my wallet. I had five dollars. And my online banking was not looking good either – only twelve dollars remained. That wasn’t even enough to buy the small can of his special sensitive formula.

Trying not to despair, I looked around my tiny studio flat which despite being smaller than a shoe box was painfully bare. I’d sold everything I could recently which wasn’t much. Now, I realized that I’d actually reached the bottom of the barrel.

The little boy was asleep again. With his chin being slightly dimpled and his hair a soft dark brown, he was a painful reminder of Opal – and consequently myself.

Yawning, I made myself a cup of tea.  I then looked around the cupboard for food, but they were as empty as I’d expected them to be.

Sighing, I made a second cup, hoping that it would lessen the pain of hunger.

Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I tightened my long, dark hair into a ponytail. The light was not flattering for sure, but even it couldn’t account for the haggard image staring back at me. The deep, dark circles. The bloodshot eyes. The pale skin and gaunt frame. Looking at myself, I blinked back tears. How had this all happened? When had I become that girl terrified for the next bill to come in the mail or the next shut-off notice to appear on her front door?

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, I didn’t have the luxury to break down. I had a job to go to and a sickly, six months old baby to take care of.

I changed into my itchy, polyester uniform – a green, ill-fitted shirt, black skirt, and green apron. Then I  slid on my overused, black sneakers .

I walked back into the room and sat on the bed, looking at Timmy playing silently in his bed, chewing on his Sophie La Girafe, a generous present from Dee – one of so many.

I smiled when his eyes connected with me. Once again I felt that overwhelming wave of love that made every sacrifice worthwhile.

“Everything is going to be fine, baby boy, you’ll see.” I checked his day bag once more, which basically consisted of his bottle, the leftover formula, a few diapers, and the most critical item – his heart medication.

Picking Timmy up from his Pack ‘N Play, I kissed his head. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply. I knew it would not last, but it was the best smell in the world.

“Okay my boy, be good to Aunty Dee, won’t you? I’ll be back as soon as can.”

Timmy cooed and grabbed at my cheek. I interpreted that to mean, ‘Cool, Ma. We’re good’

I took the stairs to the next floor up and knocked softly on Dee’s door just in case her husband was still asleep. He’d just finished a nightshift at the hospital, working as a nursing assistant, so I felt quite guilty standing there. But Dee had assured me he slept like a log.

Dee opened the door with a wide smile as if life had always been kind to her.

“How is it that you always look like a supermodel and I look like a hobo reject?”

She laughed. Her red lips were striking against her Espresso brown skin.  “It comes with the job, honey. Ain’t nobody want their beautician to look like a mess.”

She said that, but Dee had always looked like a Nubian Queen – even when she’d been working as a prostitute.

Dee had quit the streets  seven years ago, just a couple of years after Opal had started.

Dee had met Raoul and married him before obtaining her beautician license.

She has  been a mother hen to all the street girls since then and very much a mother figure to me since I’d moved with Opal at the tender age of eleven.

“You look tired, my girl,” she said with concern as she took Timmy from me. “I really don’t like this look on you.”

“Way to tell me I look like shit. Thanks, Dee.” I tried to diffuse her concern with a joke; it was better than bursting into tears. My state of worry and tiredness was bringing me closer and closer to the edge of a mental breakdown.

She narrowed her eyes, her lips pursed. “We need to talk, sweet girl.”

I’d known this was coming. It was a discussion we’d had a few times already. How Opal wouldn’t have wanted this life for me.

Well, I’m sure Opal hadn’t planned on getting knocked-up by Eddie, her heroin-addicted boyfriend, who even if he’d had a kind heart, had been a train wreck. I was also sure she had not planned on dying from sepsis a week after giving birth, leaving me as the sole guardian of a baby boy born both with a heart defect and a drug addiction and yet, here we were.

I sighed. “Yes, but not now I need to get to work.”

She nodded. Looking at Timmy, she ran her long red nails across his tummy, making him giggle.

“I love this little one, you know,” she added, still looking at him.

“Yes, I know. Thanks again. I know helping can’t be easy; I really appreciate it.”

She smiled up at me, but her whiskey-colored, kohl surrounded eyes suddenly turned sad. “We’re family. I’d lost one of mine when we lost Opal. You’re family, sweet girl. I saw you grow up. There’s no shame in asking for help.”

I looked down, rubbing my arms self-consciously. “I know that. Anyway, I really have to go. I can’t miss the bus. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Take your time. My clients never mind this little one’s interruptions. They are mothers too, so they understand.”

I had to run to the bus stop.  I caught it just as the driver was closing the doors. It took almost four stops for me to catch my breath; I really was taking being unfit to a whole new level.

“Ah, here you are, sunshine.” Rodrigo, the old Puerto Rican chef, smiled and pointed to a plate full of eggs, bacon, and waffles. “I made a mistake on an order. Why don’t you eat it?”

I blinked back tears. We both knew it hadn’t been a mistake. This would probably be the only real meal I’d have all day. I couldn’t be more grateful for this man. He looked stern and unapproachable, but he had the biggest heart a man could probably have.

“You’re fading away, Mami. You need to eat more,” he whispered as I shoved half of a waffle into my mouth.

I nodded. I would if I could, I thought, but Timmy’s needs came first – always and forever.

Rodrigo looked at me as he flipped some bacon. His chef hat perched crookedly on his head. I didn’t like being a source of worry for him. He had a wife and a son in college; he didn’t need to worry about poor little Amber Collins.

Putting the last piece of crispy bacon into my mouth, I savored the sensation of a full belly – something that was rarer than I cared to admit or think about. Jumping up from my spot on the counter, I gave him a kiss on the cheek and straightened his hat. “Thanks again for everything, but things are getting better.” How could I even say that with a straight face?

I put my bag in my locker and clocked in on my punch time card. I was about to walk onto the floor when Denny exited his office.

“Amber, could I see you in my office for a minute, please?”

I looked at the clock. The morning rush hour was about to start. It was the best time for tips; I couldn’t afford to miss any of it.

He seemed to understand my conflict because he gestured me in. “It will only take a minute. Just come in, please.”

I nodded as if I had a choice. Denny was fair, but firm and didn’t tolerate any disrespect; it was all I could really ask for from a boss.

“Amber, I noticed the schedule has been changed and you’re covering for Maria tomorrow.”

I frowned, sitting in the seat he’d just gestured me to. He’d never minded that before. He has always said that as long as he has coverage, he doesn’t care who does what. “Yes. She has to help her sister with some wedding arrangement. I don’t have a problem covering for her.”

“You don’t, but I do. Amber, you’ve been working for me for how long? Two years?”

I nodded.

“But recently, I’m worried about you, kid. The other staff is too.”

“I’m doing a good job!” I exclaimed. “I’m a good waitress.”

“You are, probably the best I have, but you are walking a fine line. You are so thin and tired. No amount of makeup can hide that.” He shook his head. “You’ve worked twenty-three days in a row. If you keep on going like this, you’ll get sick, and then you won’t have a job and I won’t have my best waitress.”

“Yes, but -” How could I even ask him for a pay advance now?

He raised his hand. “I understand that life has not been kind to you recently with your sister passing away and her sick kid becoming your charge, but think about him for a minute, if you don’t want to think about yourself. What will happen to him if you get too sick to take care for him? Who would care for him then? He’ll end up in the system and that’s not a place for a kid, let alone a sick one.”

I looked down at my hands. Denny was an orphan that ended up in the social system, somewhere I would have ended myself if it hadn’t been for Opal.

“But – ”

He shook his head. “No, Amber. This isn’t healthy, so you’re going to take this -” he slipped an envelope toward me – “and then take tomorrow off.”

I took the envelop and looked into it to find $200. I had to blink back tears. “I don’t want charity.” Why was I saying that? I didn’t have the luxury to refuse, especially since I knew I would have to apply for food stamps in the very near future.

“It’s not charity, trust me. Someone left it as a tip on your table last night.”

I rested the envelope against my chest. “Thank you.”

He shook his head. “Now go and do your shift, and I better not see you until Thursday, okay?”

“Okay, thank you. Really.”

He grunted, looking down at his desk, clearly dismissing me.

I walked into the kitchen a little lighter. I tucked the envelop into my apron pocket before looking at Rodrigo, who was giving me a knowing smile.

“Was that you?” I whispered as I stopped beside him and pointed toward the office.

He shrugged. “He just needed a reality check.”

“You’re good to me.”

“You deserve it. Now go; the room is filling up.”

For once, my shift was enjoyable. The tips were generous and combined with the “tip from last night,” I was ready to leave with a total of almost $240! I could pay the electricity bill, buy a couple boxes of formula, a big bag of diapers, and enough ramen noodles to last me a week. I could probably even indulge in a couple of Mars bars too.

“I’ve heard Denny’s put you on house arrest for two days.”

I cringed at the voice of Zack, Denny’s nephew. He was a self-entitled asshole who was supposed to be working here in order to learn about values, but who would never do.

I turned around with a fake smile. Zack was only a few months younger than me, but he acted like an immature teenager. He’d never had any issues in his life, and though that was good, it meant that he had no idea about what life was really like.

“Ah, well you know, it’s okay. Thanks for the concern.”

He leaned against the wall beside me, his red hair falling in front of his eyes. A grin that didn’t predict anything good, appeared on his lips.

“Maybe I can help you with that. I have a job for you.”

“Okay…” I trailed off. I was not against making a little more money, but working for Zack was not that appealing.

“Yeah. So I have this party this weekend, but have nobody to take. I’ll pay you $300.”

I frowned, grabbing my bag and holding it against my chest like a barrier. “You’re a decent looking guy. I’m sure you don’t need to pay anyone.”

He shrugged. “I just don’t want to work too hard for the after soirée. With you, I’m sure to get what I want.”

I froze, ice settling in my stomach. “Excuse me?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, come on. I know what your sister’s job was. It has to run in the family and I’m sure you can use the money.” He sighed. “Okay, I’m ready to go up to $400 if you let me shove it up your ass.”

Bile rose in my throat at the thought of having sex with him or anyone for that matter, especially for money. How did he find out about Opal? And was it like this for her? Was she propositioned even when she didn’t want to be?

“No.”  How had he ever thought I’d agree to this?

He arched his eyebrows in surprise. “Why?”

I snorted. “Why?” I shook my head. “I’m not even sure what to say. My sister’s career choice was made out of desperation, not pleasure. Besides, what she did, does not define me.”

“Of course, it does. Your sister was a whore and I’m sure it won’t take much more for you to be as well. It’s in your blood.”

I was a breath away from kicking him in the nuts, my job be damned, but then he moved from his spot.

“Just think about it.”

He walked away nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just insulted me, and in his head, he probably hadn’t.

I took a deep breath. Water off the duck’s back. Water off the duck’s back. I repeated the mantra as I forced my anger away.

After taking the bus back to North Philadelphia, I walked to Walmart.  I bought all I needed and breathed a little lighter when I managed to pay my electricity bill, knowing that the lights would stay on for at least another month.

I was looking forward to getting some sleep the next day; I could even take a nap. I smiled at the thought – sleeping and eating – two wonderful things so many people took for granted.

I carried the bags back to my flat, then took a quick shower to get rid of the greasy smell of work before going to pick up my little boy.

I texted Dee to let her know I was on my way up. I didn’t want to interrupt her if she was with a client.

“Timmy is sleeping,” she said, inviting me in. Her apartment was probably three times the size of mine. She had two bedrooms, one of which she’d transformed into a treatment room.

She is the reason I got the studio apartment I lived in.

I used to live in the Badlands, North Philly’s roughest area, with Opal. We had a place in a building full of prostitutes and drug dealers. It was not uncommon for us to come home to blood stains in the corridors.

When I turned eighteen, Opal had decided to leave. I’d come back from school to find a note saying that she had decided I was old enough to take care of myself and that she needed to go take care of herself. I couldn’t blame her, really; she had sacrificed a lot for me. But then a few of her dealers had come knocking at my door, requesting me to pay for her debts either with money or an alternative payment.

When I’d missed a payment/refused, one of them had tried to force himself on me. That day, Lady Luck had been on my side, all things considered. I had managed to escape, running the seven blocks to Dee’s place with a bloody nose, a swollen lip, and a ripped tee shirt. She had never let me leave.

After convincing the landlord to rent the minuscule studio flat to me at a discount, which she’d accomplished by offering to provide his wife with free treatments for the year/life, Raoul had left to pack up my stuff.

I’d managed to go to community college, taking night classes as I worked at Denny’s. Things had started looking up until Opal and her boyfriend had shown up at my door. She was four months pregnant then and trying to get clean. Eddie was high, but kind.

“Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, I was thinking about Opal.”

She sighed. “That’s the problem, sweet girl. You have a hard time asking for help.”

“The tips at Denny’s was good today, and I’m off for two days.”

She nodded. “Okay, then you know what you’ll do? You’ll drop the kid off here in the morning and then go enjoy a you day.”

“A me day?” I eyed her curiously. “How -“

She chuckled. “Just be the kid you still are. Go to the cinema, the museum, grab some junk food.”

“But – “

She shook her head. “No, just one day. You’ve been a full-time mother for six months. Just take one day. Selfcare is not a luxury, sweet girl; it’s mandatory.”

“I need to go to the hospital tomorrow. I need to get Timmy’s meds renewed. It’s always -”

She shook her head. “Nice try, but Raoul will get them for you. He said he can get Timmy enrolled in the permanent program of renewal. Why didn’t you ask him to do that earlier?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was using you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re probably the most selfless person there is. Raoul has been working there for over twenty years. Now let me make you a hot chocolate with whipped cream and extra marshmallows”

“Thank you.” I beamed. When I was with Dee, I felt like a kid again. It felt nice; her maternal vibe was like a balm on my weary heart and I loved her like my own blood.

“Oh, the white bag on the console is for you,” She called from the kitchen

“Dee…”

“It’s not from me. Tasha dropped off my cosmetic order earlier and brought that bag for you. She said your marketing plan was working well.”

Looking in the bag, I found a bottle of Victoria’s Secret body lotion, numerous tubes of lipsticks, nail polish, and a few other frivolity items. I  would not be able to afford any of it if it wasn’t for Tasha and her store.  I usually traded my two years college experience in Marketing for free goods.

“You deserve it, you know,” she said, coming back with the hot chocolate and two pieces of pie. “You’re good at it. Since you started helping me, my clientele has increased by fifty percent.”

I shrugged. “It’s nothing special.”

“Yes, it is, and you should finish your degree or get a better job.”

I sighed. “Denny understands Timmy’s situation. He knows that sometimes I might not be able to come in and on zero notice, but maybe after Timmy is better, I’ll go back to school.”

“You know, Raoul and I’ve talked about it and you only have a year left. We could -”

I raised my hand. “No, absolutely not! Never.” I shook my head. “You keep your hard-earned money. Please, don’t. It would break my heart.”

She sighed. “At least stay for dinner? I made jambalaya.”

I lit up. Dee was originally from Louisiana; her Cajun food was out of this world.

“You don’t have to ask twice!”

Once Timmy fell asleep after dinner, she painted my nails a vibrant red. I sighed with contentment on my way back to my studio. My belly was full and a sleepy Timmy laid in my arms.

I laid Timmy down for the night and smiled at his peaceful face. Today had started out quite darkly, but it had brightened in ways I hadn’t expected it to.

Maybe things have finally started to turn around, after all.

Chapter 1

Sometimes you don’t realize when your life is about to change forever.

Often, it’s planned – you’re getting married, having a baby, moving, changing careers, controlled changes.

But sometimes you’re just there, sitting at the last bonfire of the summer, about to start senior year, thinking about when Ben DeLuca would finally stop the two years of slow-burn flirting and ask you out and your phone beeps with a text that would change your whole life.

I’m sorry.

I frowned; my dad was a lot of things but not melodramatic.

Why? I texted back.

I didn’t manage to protect you. I’m sorry Esmeralda.

“Esmeralda?” I frowned. Who the hell is Esmeralda?

I jumped from the log I was sitting on. This sounded too much like my drunk dad, a version of him I thought disappeared over five years ago.

I started around the camp, calling my friend Juliet, my ride home, who would probably not hear me over the pounding sound of Fall Out Boy.

I turned around, charging toward the car park, hoping I could beg someone to give me a ride.

“Esme, Esme wait!”

I turned around but kept on walking backward as Ben jogged toward me, a drink in each hand.

“I was just coming to find you.” He extended a solo cup. “It’s alcohol-free, I promise.”

If I hadn’t been so worried, I would have smiled. With all the girls here, he was seeking me out with his broad shoulders, dark eyes and dark hair.

“No, I – My dad’s – ” I shook my head. My father was his football coach. How could I tell him I feared my father was drunk? Making the same mistake he swore he would never make again when he uprooted us from Boulder, Colorado, to Columbia, Missouri, in the middle of the night?

“What about your dad?” He took a step toward me, his eyebrows etched in worry.

“Where’s Jules?”

“Yeah….” He winced. “I saw her leave with Drew and Topher toward the beach so…” He rubbed his neck.

“Oh,” I blushed at the implication. “I really need to get home.”

He rested the drinks on a rock nearby and pointed to his bike. “Let me take you. I’ve got a spare helmet.”

I stared at his Ducati. How many girls dreamt about getting on the back of his red and silver bike? I dreamed of it too – but not like this, not with the fear in the pit of my stomach that something was terribly wrong.

I looked around the parking lot but there was no one around.

“You can’t tell,” I warned him.

He took my hand, pulling me toward his bike. “Tell what?”

“Anything you might see. Please Ben. It’s important.”

He put the helmet on my head, securing it tightly. “Of course, always.” His chocolate eyes reflected the sincerity of his words.

“Dad, he’s…” I was not even sure; I just had this uncontrollable dread filling my lungs with ice.

“It’s okay.” He straddled his bike, adjusting his own helmet. “Hop on.”

Once again, I was grateful to have ignored Juliet and her advice to wear a skimpy dress and worn my skinny jeans and combat boots instead.

The fifteen-minute ride to my house seemed never-ending, and I didn’t even get the chance to enjoy the firmness of Ben’s body or my first ever trip on the back of a bike. No, all I could think about was why my dad would drink again and what situation I would make it back to.

The scene when we arrived at the house didn’t ease my stomach. The car was parked crookedly, halfway between the driveway and the lawn, with the driver’s side door open and the keys still in the ignition. The front door of the house was slightly ajar.

I grabbed the car keys, closed the car door and took a few tentative steps toward the house, taking a small breath to settle my nerves.

I stopped when I heard footsteps behind me.

“What are you doing?”

Ben frowned at my tone. “Coming in with you.”

I shook my head. “No, I needed a ride, and you provided me with that ride. Thank you but –”

He pointed a finger at the door, a deep scowl on his face. “If you think I’m going to let the girl I like walk in a place without knowing what to expect.”

“Listen, it’s…” I began before taking a step backwards in surprise when I fully registered his statement. “The girl you like?”

He looked heavenward with a heavy sigh. “Maybe not the best moment for revelations is it?”

I shook my head. I will kill my father for ruining this moment for me. “Just, please don’t judge.”

“I won’t.”

Sadly, the vision I walked in on wasn’t unfamiliar even if it hadn’t happened in some time.

My father was lying on his stomach, an empty bottle of vodka on the floor beside a puddle of vomit.

I crinkled my nose at the once-familiar, and never fully forgotten, stench of alcohol and vomit mixed together.

Ben gagged.

“Please go Ben,” I implored. “I can deal with it just – just don’t tell, OK? I’ll explain to you on Monday at school. I promise.”

Ben looked down at me, and the worry mixed with pity in his eyes was the nail in my coffin. I wasn’t sure I could forgive my father, not again.

“Esme…”

I shook my head, my eyes burning with my unshed tears. “Please…” I croaked.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” Not in this life, I won’t.

When he was gone, I took the mirror out of my bag and brought it close to my father’s face. I’d learned from my past mistakes and I would not lean down to check his breathing – his drunk-sick breath used to almost knock me out when I was a kid.

I sighed in relief when the faint fog of breath coated the mirror – at least he only drank himself into a stupor and not to death.

“You promised, Dad,” I whispered as my eyes started to water. I cried for him never getting over mom’s death. I cried for a mom who died giving birth to me and I cried for myself and the life I had.

I opened the windows, letting the blinds down to get rid of the pungent, sickening smell which would need at least a couple of moppings with bleach to eliminate it.

I picked up the bottle and wasn’t even surprised to find discarded empty beer bottles in the sink and in the trash.

“God damnit, Dad!” I cursed, throwing the bottle so hard in the trashcan that it shattered the glass.

I turned toward my father, surprised that this ear-shattering noise didn’t even manage to get a stir out of him.

I held my breath and cleaned the vomit by the sofa, cursing him with every scrub. No 17-year-old should have had to clean up her parent’s mess… Well, no 12-year-old should have had to do that either and yet I’d done it before. I just didn’t feel the strength to start all over again.

“Why?” I asked, staring at my snoring father, once I was finally done with the cleaning,

I looked at the clock and it was past 2am. At least I didn’t have to be at work before the afternoon.

I set a glass of water and two ibuprofens on the coffee table before begrudgingly resting a blanket on his motionless body, and sat heavily on the table, facing him.

I ran my hands over my face and let out a weary sigh. Perhaps part of my leniency for his behaviour came from two things – one was the love and attention he had always given me. We never had much, him being a single father living on a meagre high-school football coach’s salary, but he never made me feel the lack of money. Our places were always small and sparse but he made sure to buy me nice clothes, sending me to dance lessons and had even set up a college fund which wasn’t big, but he had been trying.

He had really turned over a new leaf when we left Boulder. I wasn’t entirely sure what had happened but part of me suspected that his drinking problem hadn’t gone unnoticed and that he feared social services would take me away. The fear of losing me had been enough to get him out of his alcoholism and to start fresh. I might have second-guessed a lot of things in my life but his love for me was never one of them.

And the second reason was the guilt I couldn’t help but feel. He repeated, time and time again, that I wasn’t to blame for my mother’s death, but how could I not feel guilty when her death was so intrinsically linked with my life?

I let out a tearless sob. I was just too tired and stressed to deal with all that and couldn’t help wondering what life would have been like if mom hadn’t died.

“I’m sorry,” my father muffled, finally stirring a little.

“No, not anymore Dad. You promised.”

“I couldn’t protect you from him. I failed. He found you.”

I leaned closer, trying to ignore his breath. His eyes were closed. I was not even sure he was awake.

“Who?” I rested my hand on his shoulder and jerked him softly. “Who found me?”

“Your real father.” He replied.

My what?

Chapter 1- Caleb

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting in the car, but it was long enough for my ass to go numb. I sighed, keeping my eyes locked on to the bay windows of Seashell Diner.

“Seashell Diner,” I said, and snorted at the stupidity of the name. It was so unoriginal for a diner located by the seafront… Small town, small people, small minds, and–

I lost my train of thought as my eyes followed the waitress exiting the kitchen. Her wavy ponytail moved from side to side as she carried an impressive amount of plates to a table full of jocks I wanted to kill, just for the smile she gave them.

I closed my eyes. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I tried to keep my feelings in check, tried to bury them so deep inside I’d forget them. I wanted to go back to the man I’d been before – unfeeling, but functioning at least. Before her I had never felt like a bipolar man without his lithium. Before her I’d never felt out of control.

I hated myself for all these feelings and it made me hate her even more. I opened my eyes and looked at her as she cleaned a table close to the entrance. I could see the necklace I’d given her shine around her neck and this caused a lot of complicated and contradictory feelings to settle in my treacherous heart.

Esmeralda Forbes… I had known from the moment our eyes had connected that first day when I’d driven to Archibald’s home that she was trouble – with her pinup, unassuming beauty.

I had thought it was an act before; no girl that looked like that could be so kind, so humble and yet she was…or was she?

A new wave of anger filled me. She had played me. I looked down at my hand and the engagement ring resting in my palm. For all I knew it might have all been an act.

I clenched my hand around the ring and squeezed, squeezed with all the rage, betrayal and shame I felt – rage at the whole situation and reason behind her slip-up, betrayal by her and Archibald who’d plotted against me, and shame for not seeing it coming.

Archibald was smart. I couldn’t prove his involvement, but she’d disappeared so well, leaving breadcrumbs leading in the wrong direction. As far as I could see Esmeralda was smart, but she was not calculating. She was not a mastermind, not like Archibald and I were. She was much more controlled by her feelings, as her slip-up a week ago had proved, and this disappointed me in some strange way.

If she hadn’t called him, that stupid insignificant jock, she would still be at bay, any trace of her existence hidden so well – suspiciously, professionally so.

For a month William and my father had spent thousands of dollars trying to find her to no avail, nothing at all except this stupid wild goose chase around New York where her ring was found.

I had almost lost all hope of finding her, punishing her, lost the hope of getting my revenge for making me feel like a fool, for letting her see the small chink in my armor and using it against me. Maybe I should thank her for that, for pointing out that chink, because it had allowed me to seal it, cover it and make myself stronger and angrier than I had ever been. It had allowed me to plot and organize a revenge of biblical proportions. I was going to make her feel what she’d made me feel tenfold.

  Feelings were a liability, a weakness, something that were used against you, even by the people you cared for. My mother had told me that time and time again and I’d thought I’d learned…until her.

And Esmeralda had fallen in the same stupid trap when she’d called the insignificant Ben Deluca, that pauper idiot. So here I was about to bring her home, back to a cage so secure she’d never escape again – at least until I had considered my revenge complete.

My phone vibrated on the passenger seat. I rolled my eyes at the name flashing up – W. Forbes. I had to pick up if I wanted to prevent him from jumping in his other jet. I’d barely managed to have him agree to let me come here by myself.

“Have you found her?” He demanded as soon as I picked up the phone.

Good morning to you too, I thought sarcastically. “Yes sir, I have just found her.” Lies. “She is working and there are a lot of people around her. I need to find an opportunity to get her alone. I need time.”

He sighed with frustration. “Why? You can just carry her away. Drug her if you have to.”

I rolled my eyes again. This man was just so basic. “In this day and age, sir, with social media, I would strongly advise against a public tantrum and attempted kidnapping unless you want the videos to hit the web. Then everybody will know that Esmeralda Forbes didn’t take a sabbatical in Paris like we said, but ran away from you.”

“From us,” he corrected, and I knew he enjoyed my demise much more than he cared to admit.

I pursed my lips, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. “Maybe so. I agree that it wouldn’t look good on me to have a runaway bride, but having a daughter disrespect the all-powerful William Forbes…” I trailed off, letting him interpret it the way he wanted to.

“Just–” he growled. “Just bring her back. I don’t care how. I want her home – tonight. If you can’t I’ll dispatch a team and–”

“That won’t be necessary, sir.”

“One can hope. Call me when you are on your way to the airstrip or if you’re failing.”

“I can handle it!” I barked, letting go of my fake patience. Who did he think he was? By claiming Esmeralda, I was saving him from an impending scandal. He owed me! I wasn’t one of his lackeys he could bully. He would have to learn to respect me too.

He hung up without another word.

I scowled at the phone in my hand. I could handle Esmeralda. It hadn’t taken me long to find her once I’d made it to Carmel – less than six hours in fact. I’d planned to grab her at the end of her last shift, but had hesitated when I’d seen her exit, the silver necklace I’d given her proudly around her neck. I’d realized that I’d missed my opportunity when she was engulfed by the crowd on the pier.

I’d followed her, hidden under my baseball cap. She’d stopped by a hot chocolate cart and ordered one; it might have been January, but it was California. Then she’d walked further down and sat on a bench, looking up at the temporary Ferris wheel, set up for what I presume was the holidays. I’d seen her face quite well from my spot, half-hidden behind a newsstand. She’d looked up wistfully, almost pained. Was she conflicted? Was she thinking about the day I never should have given her? A day that made me look and feel weak and foolish?

My will had wavered in that moment and it’d angered me to realize that, willingly or not, she still had power over me. I had tried to reason with myself, pretending that I just needed to see the life she’d built in case she wanted to leave again; the more you knew about your prey, the more leverage you had.

I had followed her to the three-story apartment building and stayed there, in the parking lot, for over an hour before going back to my bed & breakfast. It had been risky to do that. What if she’d actually noticed me and disappeared into the night?

But I was relieved in the morning when I’d parked in front of the diner and saw her waiting tables. This was where I had been for the last two hours, just observing.

You’re turning into a fucking stalker, Astor. I could hear Archibald’s voice in the back of my mind, taunting me.

I growled, reaching for the Yankees cap on the passenger seat. It had been one of Theo’s favorites, along with his Iron Man one. I wasn’t sure why I kept the memento, but even now, I couldn’t let it go completely.

But now was not the time. Now I had to bring home a more-than-reluctant bride.

I waited for Esmeralda to disappear into the kitchen before walking into the diner and grabbing a menu. Sitting at the back, I opened the menu to hide my face.

“Do you need anything else?” I heard her ask on my left. Just her voice caused unwanted emotions to arise – mainly anger, but even that was too much. She shouldn’t be able to affect me this much. Any feelings she caused, positive or negative, were a weakness – a weakness I couldn’t afford.

“Your number,” one of the jocks sniggered.

I gripped the yellow laminated menu tighter in my hands, using all my willpower not to jump from my seat on an overused brown leather bench and smash his head on the table for daring to covet what was mine.

She sighed. “I already said I was not interested, but thank you.”

“Ah, come on. He’s been forcing us to come for greasy breakfasts for the past ten days just because of you,” another one whined, his voice even more aggravating than the other.

“You think insulting my place of work will help you?”

These guys don’t think, Esmeralda. They’re idiots… Driven by lust, not logic.

One of them sighed. “Come on Vicky, look at him. He is a catch in college and well off.”

Esmeralda snorted. “If you’re such a fan, why don’t you date him yourself? I assume you don’t need anything else, so if you’ll excuse me, I have other tables to attend to.”

“What can I get you?” She asked much closer now and whilst I knew it was impossible, it was like I could feel her.

I placed her engagement ring in the middle of the table. “What can I get for that?” I asked before sliding the menu down.

She paled. “Why are you here?” She whispered, looking around the room.

I frowned at her question. She seemed surprised that I was there, but not that she’d been found.

I arched an eyebrow. “Not really the question I’d expected,” I admitted

She gave a guarded look, resting her hand on her chest, trying to hide her necklace. Too late, little girl.

“Where are the others?”

I cocked my head to the side, running my thumb back and forth over my bottom lip – a sort of compromise to stop me from doing this to her own rose petal plump lip.

“Who? Your father? Your brother? Whichever traitor helped you escape?”

“Nobody helped me.”

She’d answered too fast for it to be true. I’ll find the traitor…traitors…and they’ll pay just as she will. I sighed, reaching for the ring again.

“Why did you come?” she asked, taking a step back.

I’m not certain, I thought as I showed her the ring. “I came to remind you that you made a commitment which you have to uphold.”

“But–” She pursed her lips and once again she seemed puzzled by the wrong things.

“Aren’t you going to ask how we found you? Where did you fail?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

“No, I guess not.” I stood up, putting the ring back in my pants pocket. “Let’s go.”

“Caleb, I–”

I shook my head. “No, you lost the right to make demands the moment you left.” I gripped her wrist before she had a chance to take another step back.

“I think you should let her go,” one of the jocks from the nearby table interjected.

I rolled my eyes as irritation overshadowed my feeling of betrayal.

I pointed at him, not even bothering to look in his direction. This boy didn’t deserve my full attention. “And I think you should sit down and eat your cholesterol-ridden breakfast. This has nothing to do with you.”

I could see from the corner of my eye that he was still standing, looking for trouble. If only I had the time or the care to deal with the backlash of social media.

“What now?” I growled, finally looking at him while keeping my grip on Esmeralda’s delicate wrist.

“I think the lady doesn’t want to go with you,” the jock said, tilting his chin up.

“Doesn’t she? You didn’t seem to be that bothered about her consent when you were harassing her to get her number. Also, not that it has anything to do with you, but she is my fiancée.” I squeezed her wrist almost involuntarily.

“I–” He looked at Esmeralda. “Vicky?”

I snorted. “We don’t have time for this Esmeralda…” I tried to put as much threat as I could into this statement. I would not be humiliated any more than I already had been.

She nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

I let go of her wrist, her soft skin too tempting. I narrowed my eyes with suspicion. She’d gone to extreme lengths to disappear, risking so much, and yet after a single request, she was giving in? It made no sense.

“Esmeralda…” I warned. “If this is one of your tricks, I–”

She shook her head, taking my hand. “No, no tricks. Let’s go.”

I nodded once, shaking her hand off before gesturing her toward the door.

She rushed behind the counter, apologized to the owner, grabbed her handbag, calmly followed me outside, and got into the car without a fight.

I wasn’t sure why, but it felt like I was following her plan instead of mine. We’d tracked her here and yet she sat beside me in the car as if she was the predator instead of the prey.

I didn’t want to engage more with her in the state of anger I was in. She’d turned out to be more conniving than I’d thought and I realized that I had a tendency to give her more than I wanted to.

“You know I’m taking you back to Stonewood, right?” Give me fear. Beg. Anything, I willed her.

She nodded, aloof enough to infuriate me even more.

“Do you think you’ll get away again?” I snorted. “Because let me tell you, you won’t – not unless I will it.”

She turned toward me, looking at me with the thoughtful gaze I’d come to both cherish and hate. There was so much going through her head but she was so different, such an anomaly. I couldn’t anticipate her, which made me uncomfortable and I hated that feeling.

I was Caleb Astor. Nothing got to me… at least nothing had until her.

Chapter 1 – Nazalie

It was all a mistake. I realized that now, standing in front of Carter King’s desk. His emotionless, cobalt-blue eyes locked on to me. His lips pursed. His big hands lay flat on the desk. He was obviously more than annoyed by my presence in his office and who could blame him.

Physically, Carter King, aka ‘Sin,’ had always been imposing. At six four,’ he had the body of a linebacker. With olive skin, wavy hair so black it looked blue at times, a powerful jaw that seemed chiseled from marble, and full lips, he was so gorgeous it was ridiculous. He looked like one of the cover models on the dark romance novels I shamefully enjoyed so much, except without the photoshop. He was just that beautiful. He had been a force to reckon with even in high school, walking the corridors as if he’d owned the place. In so many ways he had.

I’d thought Carter was a force of nature back then, but now, almost ten years later, I realized that he hadn’t even been close to his full potential. Now he was downright terrifying. And he hadn’t even uttered a word yet.

God, Nazalie. You’ve made the wrong move, girl. I sighed. Desperation was a funny thing; it made you do things against your better instincts.

“Having an internal debate?” he asked flatly as he leaned back in his leather chair. “Since you barged into my office uninvited, I would really like to know what’s going on in that demented head of yours.”

Demented? I frowned. “I’m not demented.”

He cocked an eyebrow, a mocking half-grin settling on his face. “You’ve been harassing my team and secretary for the past few days, then you pull a Houdini past security to stand in the middle of my office, fidgeting like a fish out of water. Your sanity, girl, needs to be questioned.”

“I tried to contact you about my father, but you ignored me.”

He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk. Linking his fingers together, his head hovered over them. “You’ve got five minutes. Use them wisely.”

I realized then that he had no idea who I was. We’d gone to the same high school for three years. He’d spent a lot of that time belittling me and the other kids that had been there on scholarships. Though, I guess, it wasn’t really surprising that he didn’t recognize me. Why would he remember the chubby girl with thick-rimmed glasses and a retainer that had stayed around way too long? The girl who had pretty much been a volunteer for every cause around school and had always earned an eye roll whenever she’d tried to raise awareness.

“My father is a patient at Willows Care Home. I can’t— My place is not safe for him.” I grimaced at the thought of my top-floor box studio apartment, which strangely smelled like cat pee even though I didn’t own a cat. Although there was some black mold growing around that lone single-glass window… Shaking my head, I added, “They’re about to kick him out because I’m a bit late on payments. Please, I—”

“And this is my problem because…?” He trailed off, his face just as impassive as it’d been in school. 

“Because he is a sick old man who needs care,” I growled. “Because he’s worked his entire life at the tire factory and lost everything, including his retirement when King Holdings did a hostile takeover when they replaced the factory with condos. King Holdings is the majority shareholder in the Willows Care Home; this is the right thing to do and—”

“The right thing to do?” he asked, his tone mocking. “I believe you’re mistaking me for a charity, little girl—”

“Nazalie,” I interrupted him. ‘Little girl’ aggravated me. I knew I looked young, but I was his age.

“What?” he asked, frowning with obvious displeasure. He was not a man that took kindly to being interrupted.

“I’m Nazalie Mitchell, not ‘little girl.’ I’m not that young; I’m twenty-eight.”

“Nazalie…” He cocked his head to the side, detailing me with his eerie eyes. He was really looking at me now and I didn’t like that. “You went to Fordham High, didn’t you?”

I nodded once.

His aggressive pose relaxed slightly as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re the goody two-shoes charity case.”

“Scholarship student.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Same difference. Why should I help you?”

“Kindness?”

“Kindness.” He laughed like I’d just said the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “As I said before, I’m not a charity. I’m a businessman. I don’t grant favors unless I’ve got something to gain. What are you offering?”

“I have three jobs right now. My time is…” I chuckled. “I have no time. But I could quit one of my jobs and”—I shrugged—“I don’t know, work for you?”

“In exchange for what? Letting your father stay at Willows?”

I nodded.

He sighed, tapping his forefinger against the desk in an almost hypnotic beat. “Come back tomorrow.”

I shook my head, certain he was just discarding me. “No, I—”

He slammed his hand on his desk, stopping me in my tracks. “I said tomorrow!”

When he stood up, I realized my memory hadn’t rendered him justice. He was not only imposing, he was downright terrifying.

“I could pick up the phone and have you thrown out within five seconds. Hell, you’re so tiny, I could pick you up with one hand and throw you out myself.”

I took a step back instinctively, but my fear didn’t stop my surprise. I was short, sure. I barely grazed five two, but I’d never been called tiny before. No, my clothes had been in the double digits since I’d hit puberty. I was strongly on the ‘curvy’ side of the scale. My figure was not something that bothered me. I had wonderful times. I had gentle boyfriends who loved me exactly how I was, but ‘tiny’ was simply not an adjective people usually used to describe me. Although, I guessed that everything was tiny for this mountain of a man.

I met his eyes, trying to hold them despite the terrifying scowl.

“I don’t appreciate having my words questioned. I said come back tomorrow, so that’s exactly what you’ll do. I have no qualms about throwing you out. When I said come back tomorrow, I meant it. Don’t make me reconsider.”

I nodded, too eager to escape the confines of his office and his overwhelming presence.

“Good.” He took a step back, getting out of my space and allowing me to relax ever so slightly. I let out the breath I’d been holding.

“Tomorrow, ten o’clock. Don’t be late.” The finality in his voice showed he was done with me for today.

I nodded again. It truly seemed that his outburst of exasperation had taken away my ability to speak. I wasn’t used to bullies anymore.

I turned around to leave but then stopped. Tomorrow morning was my waitressing job at the coffee shop. The tips there were always decent on busy mornings. I turned back around.

“What now?”

“I— It’s just— In the morning I have a job and—”

“A job worth more than a stay at Willows?”

That was a stupid question. I could barely pay the Willows’ monthly fees with three jobs, so no, clearly not.

He must have seen that on my face because he nodded sharply. “Ten tomorrow.”

What have I done?

Chapter 1 – Cassie 

They say everybody wants to be famous, be on the covers of the newspapers. That any press is good press, but that is a load of crap! 

The press had been nothing but a curse for me and my little brother, Jude. We were Cassandra and Jude West, the children of the Rivertown Murderers. 

These people… My parents used their small investment firm to embezzle the retirement funds of more than fifteen thousand people in ten years and they had also murdered thirty-two elderly people in an attempt to cover their tracks. 

My face, half hidden behind my messy red hair as I walked out of the court during the trial, even made the first page of our regional paper and I had wanted to disappear on that day. I was not going to court to support them. I was going there—I was not sure why I was going there. 

Maybe part of me hoped they would have the decency to apologize to me and Jude for destroying our lives and making us pariahs because the stigma we were carrying was a heavy cross to bear.

I let out a sigh of relief when my father was sentenced to life without parole and my mother to forty yearsI was there to make sure this whole nightmare would finally end and they would end their lives behind bars. 

I didn’t miss the glares directed my way by the families of the victims every time I took my seat in the back of the room. People didn’t believe that the twenty-year-old daughter of these two sociopaths didn’t know something was wrong, and even if I genuinely had no idea, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. Had I missed anything? Were there signs? 

When I exited the court after the verdict, I looked at my watch and groaned. I only had one afternoon with Jude per week and this final day of trial stole two precious hours from it. 

It has been four months since my life—our lives—spiraled into hell. We had no other family and social services declared I was not fit to take care of my brother and I couldn’t deny it. I was broke; I had to drop out of nursing school, and I was now sleeping on the uncomfortable futon of our old maid who was one of the only people showing me a little compassion. 

I rushed to catch the bus. I had to get to the Home soon as visitation ended at five p.m. 

Seeing my baby brother only an afternoon a week was breaking me. I missed him so much and I was worried sick; he was only ten, way too young to have to deal with all of this. 

No one should be dealing with all of this. 

When I arrived, Amy, the social worker dealing with Jude’s case, was pacing in front of the door. 

“I thought you would not make it,” she said, pulling me into the visitation room. 

“I know!” I gasped breathlessly. “Thank you for waiting.” 

She gave me a small smile. “You deserve someone cutting you some slack,” she said gently, bringing tears to my eyes. 

I was so unused to kindness recently. I had been lucky when she had been assigned my brother’s case. We’d been in the same high school even if she had been a senior when I joined and it created a sort of kinship that I was beyond grateful for. 

She opened the side door and spoke to someone; the door opened wider and my brother rushed in. 

“Cassie!” he shouted, running into my arms. 

I hugged him tightly. He was so short and frail. He might have been ten, but he didn’t look older than seven. He was my little man though; our parents had always been emotionally distant. It has always been Jude and me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be late,” I told him, caressing his dark-blond hair softly. 

He kept his arms around me and lifted his eyes, looking at me with his big, sad green eyes—much too weary for a little boy his age. 

“Are we okay now?” he asked with a small voice. 

I nodded. “Yes, we are. They’re not coming back.” I frowned, noticing the small bruise on his jawline. “What’s that?” I asked, brushing my fingers on it. 

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “I fell.”

I looked up to Amy who looked at us with so much sorrow it cracked my heart open even more. I had to get him out of here. 

“I’ll take you home as soon as I can, li’l man. I swear I will.” 

“I know, Cassie. It’s okay. I’m okay here.” 

No, you’re not. You’re miserable, but you’re trying to be strong for me when you shouldn’t have to, I thought. “I know but I miss having you with me so I want to get you back as soon as possible.” I forced a smile I hoped looked genuine. “Who’s supposed to help me sample brownies now, huh?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m sort of an expert.” 

I chuckled. “Yes, you are.” 

Amy sighed. “I’m sorry, guys, but Jude has to go back now.” 

I looked up and she looked really crestfallen. I was sure she had a soft spot for Jude, but then again, who didn’t? 

I nodded. “I’ll see you next week and we can video chat this week sometimes,” I said before throwing a quick look at Amy who nodded. She did that every week for us, using her own phone to allow Jude and I to talk for a few minutes. That woman really was a godsend and at least she helped us make this horrible situation just a little better. 

“Love you to the moon and back,” he said, hugging me tightly again. 

“Love you to the sun and back,” I replied, kissing the top of his head, already feeling the burn of my unshed tears at the back of my eyes. 

After he left, Amy turned toward me. 

“What really happened?” I asked, knowing full well that Jude’s bruise was not an accident. 

She sighed, shaking her head. “Kids have been tough on him,” she admitted reluctantly. “Being related to…” She winced. “It’s a heavy cross to bear.”

“I know. I’m planning to change our name as soon as I can get him back.” I sat on one of the uncomfortable orange chairs lining the visitation room. 

I knew I had to leave. There was no reason for me to still be here; the center was now closed to the public, but I just needed a few minutes. 

A few minutes with someone who looked at me, not as an accomplice to the monsters my parents were, but as one of their victims. 

“I’m just not convinced that day will ever come,” I admitted, and saying it out loud hurt more than I anticipated. 

“So they refused to take you back, huh?” she asked, coming to sit beside me, gripping my hand in hers. 

I nodded. “Yes, I can’t blame them though. The hospital had a hard time justifying my presence there and since nursing school kicked me out.” I shrugged. “What was the point of me working there anyway?” 

“We can fight their decision, you know. I looked into it and they had no grounds for dismissing you.”

I shook my head. “What’s the point? No one wants me there. The students look at me like I am a monster, the teachers too. And even if I force it, I need hospital training and no hospital will offer that to me.”

“Yeah.” She nodded with resignation. “What about your living situation?” 

“Still squatting on Mrs. Broussard’s futon.” I’d never been more grateful in my life. Mrs. Broussard had been working for my parents since I was five years old and when everything turned to shit, she’d been the only one offering me the helping hand I desperately needed despite her own children’s advice. “I need to give her back her space and stop eating her food.” I looked heavenward. “Nobody is willing to hire me in this town but—” I looked at the door connected to the living quarters my little brother occupied. “I just can’t leave; he needs me.” 

“You remember Ms. Lebowitz, don’t you?” 

I looked at her with confusion at the change of subject. “The high school career counselor?” 

She nodded. “She retired but I know she’s working part-time for the temp agency by the pharmacy.” Amy shrugged. “She always had a soft spot for her old students. Why don’t you go see her?” 

Ms. Lebowitz had been an older lady, an eccentric hippy, but she’d always seen more than she let on. She had known even then that I’d been the one caring for Jude. She was the one who suggested nursing school after seeing my caring nature. 

“I like her. It’s worth the shot.” I looked at my watch; it was much past the time and I didn’t need Amy to get into trouble and have Jude removed from her care due to her involvement with me. “What about Jude and his bruises?” 

“Don’t worry, I’ve moved him into a room with younger kids. He’s okay now.” She answered my unspoken thoughts. 

I threw her a grateful look. “I need to go now. I have to grab my bus.” 

“Let me drive you home, please.” 

I nodded. The bus ride to Mrs. Broussard’s was going to take more than forty-five minutes, and I had to admit that, after the draining day I had, I was more than grateful to accept. 

“Why are you so nice to me”? I asked Amy as we took to the road. “Not that I’m not eternally grateful but—p”

She shrugged. “Call it empathy. I’ve seen you before at the hospital; you genuinely cared about the patients, and the way your brother talks about you? You’re his whole world. I’ve seen a lot of mean, heartless people in my line of work and you’re not one of them. You’re caring and loving and so obviously unaware of your parents’ monstrosities” She threw me a quick look full of concern. “You don’t deserve to be treated the way you are so if I can help ease this injustice just a little…I will.”

I looked away, blinking back my tears. Her words somehow gave me hope. Maybe others would see it too. Maybe others would cut me some slack and help me get Jude back. 

Yes, tomorrow was another day and I would turn the tide, no matter the sacrifices. 

For Jude. 

Chapter 1 – Violet 

“I’m not sure I’m following.” I breathed slowly as I fidgeted in front of Mr. Reynolds’ desk.

He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, his round face much redder than usual. “Well, I’m not sure what there’s to follow here,” he snapped defensively. “This was a six-month training program. The six months are over, so you are not needed anymore.” He pointed at the door behind him. “Turn around and leave.”

Of course, he expected me to bow my head and leave. I was non-confrontational; I always followed every rule and every command to stay under the radar, to make sure I wasn’t too much of a burden on my mother. I just remained like that, even after her passing.

He expected for me to just walk away because he was the marketing director and I was the assistant of his assistant, but it was time for me to put my foot down. It was time for me to ask why, once again, I was losing the little something I had worked so hard to get.

I had nothing left to lose.

Please, God, cut me some slack. I really need a win.

“Sir, I’m sorry to insist, but when we were brought into this apprenticeship program, we were told that the best performer would be offered a permanent position. I’ve been assured through the monthly assessments that I would be offered this position. Mrs. Taylor even asked me to come back this morning to sign my contract and start the permanent position.”

His face grew redder as he adjusted his position on his seat, his imposing belly squeezing against his desk as he leaned forward. “Things change every day in the corporate world, Ms. Murphy. You would know that if you’d tried to educate yourself and didn’t drop out of school at sixteen.”

I inhaled sharply as I took the verbal blow. That one stung more than I expected, especially based on the reason I left school as young as I did.

It had never been my choice—no, it had been just another good thing life had stolen from me.

I blinked and looked down, having lost the small fire of injustice that had been burning—what had driven me to fight for myself.

He sighed. “Listen, companies are going through restructuring all the time—the position that once was to be filled doesn’t exist anymore.”

A flash of red in the corner of my eye attracted my attention, and I looked out the glass office wall to see Mr. Reynolds’ niece sitting at what was my desk for the past few months.

“I see…” I trailed off, too defeated to even try. It was nothing I had done, nothing the company had really done; it was just a simple case of nepotism.

He followed my eyes and glared at his niece, who gave him a sheepish smile before she twisted toward the screen.

Should I feel better that he wanted to hide this from me? Was it to preserve my tender feelings or to make sure I wouldn’t make a scene?

He sighed. “Listen, Violet.”

Ah, it was Violet now, was it? He obviously knew I was bright enough to catch up on the situation.

“You were good, very good even, and you’re not leaving empty-handed. We—” He looked around his desk and stopped on the leather-bound corporate checkbook. “If you’d let me finish before, you’d know that we decided to grant you a gracious, two-week bonus to thank you for all your hard work. Also know that should any entry position become available, your name will be at the top of the list.”

I looked at him as he grabbed the book and wrote me a check. Gracious? This apprenticeship barely paid minimum wage, and I had to work a few nights a week at the dry cleaner down the street just to make ends meet.

I was supposed to start a job today where my salary would have been forty-five thousand dollars a year. Nothing to write home about for most people, but for me… it would have changed my whole life.

Instead, I would leave with broken dreams, wasted time, and a check for… I extended my hand to grab the white piece of paper he extended and read the amount. $932.15?! Was he serious? I looked up at him. That asshole even took out taxes!

“This experience is invaluable, Violet. You’ve spent six months working for one of the biggest real estate companies in California. It’s not negligible, you know, and I’m willing to provide you with a stellar reference should you ever need one.”

I knew what he was not saying. Leave without making a scene, and I’ll help you.

I looked down at the check again. Lord, how I wish I didn’t need the money. That I could just crumple it up and shove it so deep down his throat he wouldn’t be able to breathe anymore.

I recoiled. Where did that even come from? I was not violent, never had been, but this compulsion…

It’s in your genes.

I shook my head and blinked as tears burned the back of my eyes.

“I… Yes, thank you, sir.” I was thanking the man who probably stole my only chance to make it out of my situation, just to give the job to his spoiled niece, who only wanted it as a whim or as a punishment.

“Don’t mention it. I wish you all the luck in the world.”

I nodded silently, completely exhausted and out of words, and turned around to leave.

“Violet?” he called just as I reached the door.

I turned my head toward him, hope blossoming in my heart against my own advice. Maybe he realized it was unfair, maybe he found a solution. Maybe he just—

“Don’t forget to leave your badge with security downstairs.”

My heart plummeted once again as shame at my own stupidity joined my other raging emotions.

I should have known better… When did life really cut people like me some slack?

I pulled the strap of my thrift store handbag higher on my shoulder and walked down the corridor with as much dignity as I could muster, trying to respond to the small, sad smiles people were giving me along the way.

Sandra, an assistant for the finance department, snuck into the elevator just as the door closed on me.

“It’s bullshit!” she spat, her cheeks red and eyes shining with a self-righteousness that somehow made me feel both better and worse.

“What is?”

“Everything!” She made a wide gesture with her hands, forcing me to take a sidestep to avoid getting poked in the eye by one of her sharp, pointy nails. “That fucking old pervert once again fucked this company by hiring one of his backward relatives, and no one bats an eye,” she huffed. “I swear, that man knows something to get away with that much shit.”

I agreed with her, of course. I had seen a lot of shit in the past six months, including the leering looks he had no place giving young women barely in adulthood, but I was not in the mood to fuel the fire. I was angry, yes, but mostly sad and tired, which all wrapped up in an overwhelming sense of defeat and doom.

“It is what it is.” I shrugged, willing the elevator to make its way down just a little faster.

It is what it is… The story of my life.

“I’m going to be fine; I’m not worried.” Maybe if I said that enough, I’ll believe it. I sighed with relief as the elevator beeped, announcing my destination had been reached. “You better go back up now before you get into trouble. See you around,” I added, quickly exiting the enclosed space, tightening my hold around the plastic pass in my hand, feeling it bite painfully in my palm.

I stopped by the white reception desk and met Reginald, who gave me the same sorry eyes as they did upstairs. He was from the same part of town as me, so he knew the extent of the opportunity that had been stolen from me.

“I’m sorry, little one,” he said soothingly, resting his big hand on top of mine.

I looked down at his gentle gesture and my shaky composure cracked, letting a few burning tears escape.

Reginald was a gentle father figure who had been showing me nothing but kindness since my first day here and had managed to make me feel comfortable when I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“You’re twenty-one, baby girl; you’ll get back on your feet. I know you will.”

I sniffled, still keeping my eyes down, looking at my few tears shining on the white counter.

He squeezed my hand. “Let me call you an Uber; you deserve it. The company owes you this ride.”

“Thank you.” Normally I would have said no, fearing he would get into trouble.

But I didn’t feel like making the thirty-five-minute, two-bus trip back home wearing an itchy dress and the uncomfortable heels I bought at the charity shop down the street to help me look professional.

I had felt like a fraud all the way here, and now, on top of a fraud, I felt like a failure.

“The car will be out in a couple of minutes.”

“Thanks, Reginald… for everything.”

“You’re welcome, little one. Don’t be a stranger.”

I walked out, deciding to wait for the car outside, hoping the warm sun would help me feel a little better.

I got my phone out and called Jake. I needed my boyfriend right now. I needed him to make me feel better, even if he had warned me from the start not to get my hopes up.

The phone went straight to voicemail. He was probably in ‘the zone,’ working on some of his freelance projects.

I sighed, putting the phone back in my bag as a green sedan slowed and stopped in front of me.

“Car for Violet?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I sat in the back and instead of giving him my address, I gave him Jake’s. He lived much farther from the downtown area and somehow, the small pettiness of knowing this ride would cost them double to take me there, instead of my small studio apartment, made me feel a little better. I was sticking it to the man—even if it was for a meager thirty dollars.

Jake didn’t live in my run-down neighborhood. He’d managed to escape and take a few steps up the ladder of life and live in an area with fewer guns than people. He ‘made it,’ as he loved to repeat every chance he had.

I was sure he could take a break from his current project and make me feel better. I closed my eyes and leaned against the headrest, letting the car vibrations lull me and relieve some of the stress.

I couldn’t help but wince at the thought of going back to work at Sunset Strip, the supposedly ‘high-end’ gentlemen’s club that was harboring the same type of perverts as cheap strip clubs had, except clients had thicker wallets… and blacker hearts.

I sighed, opening my eyes and meeting the driver’s curious gaze just before he looked at the road again.

I could already picture Liam’s smirk when I go back and ask for my barmaid job back. How he would give me part two of the speech he gave me when I told him I was leaving. He would tell me, yet again, that Sunset Strip was a family and you don’t just walk away from your family. Then, in his magnanimous kindness, and in memory of his father and my mother, he would give me my job back.

I couldn’t help the little grunt of annoyance that escaped my mouth at the thought.

“You belong here, Violet, like your mother. Why are you trying so hard to make it out?” Because I didn’t want the same life she had; because she wanted nothing more than for me to make it out. Because I owed it to her to try my hardest.

“Hello? Miss?”

My eyes shot open and I looked out of the window, startled to have been nudged out of my thoughts.

I stared at Jake’s small bungalow across the street, trying to regroup my thoughts and composure, at least long enough to tell him everything.

”Is it the wrong address?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the irritation in his voice.

“No, I’m sorry.” I shook my head and opened the door. “It’s right, sorry.”

He mumbled something under his breath, and I’d barely closed the door behind me before the car had shot off.

I crossed the street and stopped on the sidewalk, frowning at the small red car parked just behind Jake’s Volvo.

It was quite a popular little car, yet something made me take a few tentative steps toward it as a bad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

My frown deepened as I noticed the pair of mini red stilettos dangling from the rearview mirror. It might have been a very common car, but that keepsake? It wasn’t.

This was Serena’s car. Serena, my supposed friend and one of the most popular strippers at Sunset. Serena, who lived on the other side of town and who had only met Jake twice before.

I turned toward the house and walked slowly as the bad feeling turned into ice in my stomach.

The closer I got to the front door, the more I was hyperventilating, imagining the worst.

There must be an explanation. It could just be a coincidence.

Jake wouldn’t do that to me, not after all the things I’ve been through. I told him I wanted to wait, that my virginity had value to me, and he said he was okay with that. He said he would wait as long as necessary, and despite being together for over a year, he’d never pressured me. I was scared to find out now why it might have been the case.

Bile rose in my throat as I reached the front door, unsure I wanted to face what could be happening or, if nothing sordid was happening, face my own unwarranted mistrust. I thought I was past my trust issues. I thought I was ready for the next steps in this relationship, but if a simple coincidence could shake the whole foundation of our relationship, then maybe I was not quite there yet.

I raised my hand to knock but thought better of it, and looked around, trying to figure out where he hid the emergency key.

I looked under the potted plants on his patio and under the door mat without any luck before I remembered he bought this stupid fake stone during one of our Target trips.

I looked around and, despite the worry brewing inside me, I smiled when I noticed it at the foot of the bushes brushing the wooden stairs.

I grabbed it and let out a little huff of relief when I found the key nestled inside it.

If nothing seedy was happening, he’ll probably question my uninvited pop-in, but I was too concerned to think more of it right now.

I opened the door slowly and didn’t have to question my decision as I heard a guttural moan of pleasure.

I tightened my hold on the key, feeling its ridges on my palm as I took one slow step after the other, trying to make sure he would not hear my stupid square heels thunk against his wooden flooring.

The closer I got to his room, the louder he became. I could also hear Serena call his name, asking him to fuck her harder with his big, fat cock.

I stopped, resting my hand against the wall as my stomach heaved violently.

I almost wished I could vomit right now and have him clean it after he sealed my horrible day with the worst betrayal.

I shook my head. I had enough! I couldn’t continue to torture myself, listening to the sound of their pleasure. They needed to know that I knew.

The door of the bedroom was ajar, and I shoved it open, making it slam against the wall—the lovely yellow wall I’d painted for him last month.

How fucking stupid had I been! I wanted to help him have a nice home—where I thought I would move into one day, but clearly, not in the optic to have him fuck another woman.

Despite knowing what I was going to find, it was almost too much to see.

Her, on all fours, on top of the sunflower bedspread I had picked to match the room, and him, fisting her long ponytail as he hammered into her from behind, his head thrown back in pure abandon.

She shrieked when she saw me and fell face-first onto the bed.

He looked back and his face shifted from unadulterated pleasure to shock in an instant, and despite the ripping pain, I felt a little better knowing I’d ruined his pleasure—just as he’d just ruined a year of my life.

I would not become my mother!

I turned around and started to run when he shouted my name. I ran out and down the street, my vision blurry with tears and my legs wobbling, both from the painful turmoil inside me and the heels I was not used to wearing.

I heard him call my name again and realized he was following me into the street!

Fuck! I ran faster, despite my burning eyes compromising my vision. I took random side streets just to ditch him.

I crossed a street without looking—a mistake, one of many, really—but the one I realized was going to cost me my life as I saw the shape of a black car come racing toward me.

My ankle twisted as my heel met an unevenness in the middle of the road, and I fell heavily.

I heard the horn, the squealing of the tires, and closed my eyes tightly, bracing for impact.

Yep, I was going to die today, in disgrace and in shame… It was ironic how things had come full circle.

I was going to die the same way I was born.