“She is,” I respond, clearing the lump in my throat.
“Well what’s her name? I want to look her up.” Her voice gets distant, making me think she’s put me on speaker, too, to pull up Instagram or something.
“No,” I shoot back. Too quick, apparently.
“Why not?” Suspicion in her demanding question.
“Because,” is my eloquent response.
“Because why? What’s the big deal? You let me look up that hooker with the big boobs.” She’s talking about one of the parent-approved dates I had to bring to a gala a year or so ago. I didn’t even take her home after.
“First of all, she didn’t mean anything to me. Secondly?—”
Before I even finish my sentence, she interrupts me. “OH MY GOD! IS IT HER?” Her voice is so loud, I would bet it can be heard from the hallway. “Is your new girl Lillian? Are you dating her again?” she bellows in question. How in the hell did she come to that conclusion?
I don’t respond right away. What do I say? Do I tell her the truth? Ignore it? My slow response is answer enough for her. “Oh. My. God. This is so exciting. I’m so happy for you. Maybe I’ll actually get to meet her this time. Then I’ll just ask her why you guys broke up since you wouldn’t tell me yourself. What was her last name again?”
I’m so lost in the past and thinking about how she willneverknow the real reason I had to end things—never have to carry any guilt over it—that I actually answer her. “Frasier.”
“Lillian Frasier. Such a pretty name,” she mutters absently. Not even ten seconds go by before she speaks again. “Woah. She is freakinggorgeous.And way out of your league. I don’t know how the hell you tricked her into dating you, but you better not mess this up again.”
“Don’t I know it,” I whisper, not sure if she heard me or not. “And thanks. I love you, too.”
“Oh, shut up. You know I love you.” There’s yelling in the distance on her end. Becca must put her hand over the mic because her voice is muted as she yells back, “Hold on! I’m coming.”
“Go have fun with your friends. I’ll call you later.” I pick up my phone, ready to hang up.
“Okay. Talk to you soon. Love you!” She’s clearly distracted now because I barely get to rush out my own ‘love you’ before the call drops.
Leaning back in my chair again, I twirl my cell around between my hands and stare off into space. There isn’t a chance I get any more work done, so I check my emails one last timebefore I log off, grab my briefcase, and head toward my office door.
Just as I get close, my mother walks through the door frame and almost slams into me. Surprise lights up her eyes when she sees me so close. I don’t buy it. Nothing surprises this woman.
“What do you need, Gwen?” The ice in my tone is absolutely warranted, but it still displeases her. She also hates when I call her Gwen. The thin set of her lips one of her tells. She doesn’t call me out on it though, which has distrust stirring in me.
“Do I need a reason to come see my son?” Suddenly, I’m transported back to a different time, when she said those same words to me. The night that started all the heartbreak and lies.
“Yes,” is my only response.
She huffs. “Never mind. I was just coming to make sure you got the amendments to Revel’s contract, but it can wait until tomorrow. I don’t want to hold up your evening.” She turns and walks out. Red flags and warning signs are jumping out at me in every direction.
This woman, my damn mother,neverdoes anything just to make someone’s life easier. If it inconveniences her, she doesn’t do it. Fuck everyone else’s schedule or feelings. I should call her back. Demand she tell me what she came to tell me. Figure out what she’s running from. But I can’t muster up the emotional strength. All I want is to go home and try not to obsess over Lillian.
As I’m in the elevator, my cell rings again. I groan, slamming my head against the elevator wall in frustration. “Does this day never end?” I grumble before picking up. “Lincoln.”
“Linc. It’s Vince. I found something you might be interested in.” Vince’s deep voice filters through, my shitty mood evaporating in an instant.
“About Lillian?” Too much excitement. I do my best to relax, but I’m eager for any tidbit he can find.
“Well…” he starts, and I’ve never known this man to beat around a bush, so I straighten, bracing myself. “Have you, uh, ever heard of Club Ecstasy?”
I hadn’t realized I was tapping my toe against the elevator floor until it stops, and the enclosed space goes quiet. “The sex club?”
I haven’t been myself, but I’ve heard Tyler talk about it, and I don’t like where this is headed.
“That’s the one. Well, I saw her name on the list for this coming weekend for their key party.” He sounds like he’d rather be having any conversation other than this with me, and I can’t say I blame him.
Heat crawls up my neck, and my ears feel too hot. “What the fuck is a key party?” My voice is low like there are other people in the elevator with me. And why is she going to a sex club? The Lillian I knew would never.