Page 43 of Eye Candy

It was cute that she thought her turning around would make this problem any better. Every time I blinked, the image of water droplets sliding down her spine tormented me. It was best if I stayed clothed.

For something to do, I scooped up my sweater and realized it was wet through.Fucking Joe. I started squeezing it out.

“I’ve noticed you’re particular about your clothing.”

“Just a normal amount,” I replied quickly.

She snorted. It was nothing like the head-tilting laugh she did in crowds. “Chase, this is a compliment: you’re not normal in any way. Everything about you is thoroughly above average.”

The compliment was given offhand, without the context of someone wanting a donation for something, or an invite somewhere, or something from Dad’s estate.

A compliment without visible strings made me feel off balance. That was probably why I said honestly, “I don’t like things that don’t last. And I don’t like variety for the sake of variety. It’s unreliable.”

She tilted her head. “That’s admirable. Some of your friends’ carbon footprints would rival a small island’s.”

I thought about how many flights I took and guilt pricked at the back of my neck. I liked to travel, and especially loved to vacation in new places. I had been trying to cut down, but it was still too many. Now she was going to think I was a better person than I was—someone motivated by sustainability instead of shame.

I hated talking about this, but it suddenly felt very important to confide in her. To make her understand.

I took a deep breath.

CHAPTER 18

CHASE

“As you know,my dad was infamous for his romantic relationships.”

I was trying to choose my words carefully. I didn’t want her to think I judged any of my dad’s partners for what happened. “He was married three times, and in between divorces, he had countless girlfriends. My mom was his first wife, I was born in Canada, then we moved here. Joe’s my half brother, his mom was his second wife. But no one stayed for long. Every time Dad got a new girlfriend, she would move in after a few weeks, and he’d change everything to suit her. Dad couldn’t just date, he had to pull everything down and start a new life. Living with him was to be in a constant state of flux.” I sighed.

Just telling her this story made me feel like I was giving new life to his legend. But I didn’t know what else to do—the fact was, my dad chewed through women. They were disposable to him. I was never going to be like that. When things came into my life, I kept them. Cherished them.

“Dad was charismatic,” I continued. “And his business wasvery successful. There was never any shortage of women willing to ignore or unable to see the debris around him. My friend Roberton liked to joke that dad was the Bluebeard of Manhattan.” Too late, I realized how that sounded. “Just to be clear, no one died. Rob is melodramatic.”

“Wow,” Floss said. Not in an impressed way.

“Most of Dad’s partners were great,” I hastened to add. “A few I really loved—Marion was a great stepmom. Leni had a big impact on me too. She still always sends us birthday cards. But no one ever stayed long. Dad would get restless and the cycle would start again, no matter his current situation.”

He would cheat, which spawned the next stage, which was either screaming or crying or begging; then after that was the worst of all: Dad love bombing the new person.

“Dad was always trying to make me more like him. It was just because I resemble him physically. That’s what Joe never understood. It was never anything to do with me. I never had a tenth of Dad’s charisma. I hate crowds. I especially hate real estate. Dad traveled a lot with the Sanford Group and gave long speeches at conferences. I can’t think about a microphone without getting queasy.”

“Sounds grueling for a kid.”

“I was a teenager when I lived with him.”

Floss lifted her distinctive chin. “Sounds grueling for a teenager.”

Grueling. That was a good word. It fit better than some of the others that I’d paid a lot of money to be ascribed. There were far more horrific things for a young person to endure so it felt wrong to describe my privileged childhood as traumatic. The word held truth, but it felt too big, undeserved.

But playing a part in Dad’s endless cyclewasfucking grueling.

“Appearances were important to my dad. They were tools of his trade. Everything was denim casual for Marion, then all-American for Zurri, and the bizarre Hawaiian shirt phase for someone else, I don’t remember who. Dad wanted us to look likea perfect family unit. Which meant new clothes, new pictures on the walls, new foods, and new routines. Even when I finished school and moved out, nothing was ever consistent.” I finished folding the last towel and stacked them on the sink. I knew I better say the next bit before she did. “What a spoiled rich kid to hate new clothes, right?”

She shook her head. “You like things to last. That’s not spoiled.”

I sighed. “Longevity is important to me. Joe mocks me for it, but yeah, I wear the same thing most days. Take this apartment,” I waved a hand at nothing in particular. “I paid a designer hundreds of thousands to comb estate sales and thrift stores for me. I know people do that themselves, but I didn’t know what I wanted or how to do it. I just wanted to have things people had loved.”

When her eyebrows bunched in the center, an expression of pure sympathy, I wished I could stuff the words back in my mouth. I didn’t deserve her sympathy. I had everything.

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