Page 91 of Escaping Our Reality

She peeks down the hallway, checking for Lulu, and then sits on the loveseat. “Look, I’m really sorry about hitting on you that night. I was drunk. I know that’s no excuse, but you have to know that I normally don’t act like that. Carrie and Ella are the closest thing I have to family, to sisters. I would never jeopardize that.” She sits back, straightening the collar on her dress. “Andyes, I should have knocked. I just thought y’all would be at the party already. It won’t happen again. You have my word.”

She seems genuine. What choice do I have but to take her at her word. It’s not like I can judge someone for getting drunk. I mean, DUI should be my father’s middle name. And hopefully the getting high thing was just a one-time deal. I nod. Accepting my absolution, she sighs and smiles.

The sweetest voice interrupts us. “Okay, I’m ready.”

I turn my head, sighing in my own absolution when I see Lulu standing there in a flowy, pink dress and high-heel sandals. The sleeveless dress has a high neckline, fully covering her ample chest, but it falls to mid-thigh, showcasing her amazingly perfect legs and the tan that’s easily baked her skin in the time she spends outdoors with me. As she struggles to put on a tight white sweater—she keeps missing the arm holes—I jump up, helping her.

Perfect. She’s just damn perfect. Not even caring that Kristie is staring at us, I bend down, gently kissing my girl’s mouth. I don’t have to bend far; those heels make her even taller. Her lips are sticky with some kind of lip gloss. She giggles when I pull away, quickly brushing her thumb across my mouth, wiping it clean.

I whisper against the shell of her ear. She loves it when I do that. “You’re damn gorgeous.”

She grabs my neck, holding me in place, and whispering against the shell of my own ear. Hell, I love it when she does that. “You clean up fairly nice yourself. And you rolled your sleeves up to your elbows.” Her free hand brushes across my skin. “You know your forearms drive me crazy.”

“You know your everything drives me crazy.” I mean it. I really do.

Eventually she pulls away. “Kristie, you look nice. Is your dad already here?”

Kristie bites her lip, fidgeting with a ring on her finger. “Yeah, I think he got here about thirty minutes ago.”

“Well, I guess we better get this over with, huh?”

I grab the remote and turn off the TV. “So, tell me one more time, this whole benefit is to raise money for your school? The richest private school in the state?That school?”’

She purses her lips. “Yes.”

“How is that a charity function?”

“Well, the school operates a charitable foundation. It does some good things, don’t get me wrong. In fact, it’s helping with some of the travel expenses for the two-week graduation trip. But most of the time, it supports self-centered activities disguised as charitable events.” She taps her heel, thinking. It clanks against the marble floor. “There was the benefit to raise money for the new gym, when the one we had was only five years old. There was the benefit to establish a teacher surplus fund with the intention of those monies being earmarked for higher education learning for the teachers who wanted to get their master’s or doctorate degrees. But in fact, most of it was used to buy new cars as a sign-on bonus for teachers they hired after they fired a bunch of old teachers for not fully representing the qualities of our school—meaning the teachers were modest and not into social climbing and giving out A’s like candy.”

“Calm down. You’re getting me so excited. I may never wanna leave this party.” I roll my shoulders, trying to loosen the tension.

Kristie opens the back-hallway door and walks down the long corridor, heading into the Big House. We give her time, watching as she disappears, so the two of us can make the journey alone. This breezeway feels more haunted than Carrie’s bedroom. Like walking through this hallway and into the lifeless, loveless mansion of Lulu’s parents will suck the eternal soul from our bodies. She feels it too. She reaches behind her neck,rubbing her scar. Her heels echo all around us as she places one foot in front of the other. And I watch in speechless awe as each step drags My Lulu away, replacing her with Ella Hill.

We walk down the hallway, eventually passing the threshold into the Big House. We pass designer-decorated rooms on both the left and right. Guest rooms, guest bathrooms, something that looks like a home theater room. There’s a room with wrapping paper and ribbons hanging on the wall and what looks like covered Christmas trees standing in the corner. That room by itself is three times bigger than my bedroom at my grandparents’ house.

The soft music of a piano and muffled noise of party-goers filter through the air, growing louder the closer we get. Lulu’s back is so straight and stiff, a construction crew could use her as a leveler. At last, we reach the main living room. The room is massive, with vaulted ceilings, and one side of the room has a large staircase that winds up to the second floor. The wooden banister and railing are draped from bottom to top in garlands of fresh spring flowers. Tucked underneath the curve of the staircase is a grand piano, where someone sits, playing a classical song. The whole back wall of the room is comprised of huge glass doors. They are all standing wide open, allowing people the luxury of walking around the custom-built swimming pool, hot tub, and waterfall. I see people sitting outside. In the matching outdoor furniture.

If I thought Lulu’s wing of the house was boring with its white and gray and navy, I was completely mistaken. This room brings a whole new meaning to that style. I can only assume that her mom frequently redecorates the living room, matching to whatever style may be on trend at that particular moment. The wall next to us is lined with white bookshelves, filled to the brim with books that look just as boring as all the people in this room. All hardcovers with non-descript gold lettering along the spine.

“Have your parents read all these books?”

Lulu looks over my shoulder. “The last thing they do in their free time is read for fun. In fact,” she nods her head at a buxom blonde in a tight-fitting purple dress, “there’s one of Dad’s hobbies right now.”

“Addison? The assistant?”

“No. This girl is a pharmaceutical rep.”

“Ma’am,” a waiter in a black bow tie stops in front of us, offering us a flute of orange juice.

We each take one, and I quickly drink it down, wetting my parched mouth. The tangy sweetness catches me by surprise. I’m too late to stop Lulu, she already has the glass tilted to her mouth. “Lulu, it’s a Mimosa.” Even though the champagne is mild, it still has Lulu scrunching her nose and grimacing. She covers her mouth to cough. Grabbing her glass, I set them both on the bookshelf.

“Your parents are letting the waitstaff serve alcohol to minors?”

“You know you make our relationship sound very scandalous when you call me a minor.”

I wink. “Maybe I like scandal.”

Lulu’s gaze darts off to the side. Her jaw twitches. I turn to see a whirlwind of a woman sweeping in our direction. “Ella, sweetheart. I was growing concerned about your whereabouts. So many people have been asking for you. Come, mingle.” She grabs Lulu by the arm, urging her to follow.

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