Page 28 of My Fault
I could see my mother’s face when she forbid me from ever returning to that world—fast cars, races. At just ten years old, I’d known everything there was to know about driving, and when my legs were long enough to reach the pedals, my father had let me drive with him. It was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I could still remember the euphoria of pure speed, the sand clinging to the windshield, getting in the car, the squeal of the tires—above all, the peace of mind it gave me. Racing meant nothing else mattered. We were alone, the car and me. No one else.
But that was then. My mother had since told me in no uncertain terms to stay away from racing, and I had to accept that, regardless of how much I missed it.
I sighed, got up, and grabbed my phone, which wouldn’t stop vibrating. My friends didn’t seem to miss me. They were going to another party that night, and they didn’t seem to realize I was still in the group chat, able to read all the details about who and where and how much everybody was planning to drink.
I was sad but also irritated. Dan still hadn’t called me. I was longing to hear his voice, to talk the way we’d talked before I left, for hours and hours. Why wouldn’t he call me? Had he forgotten about me?
With these thoughts, I left my room and found my mother and Will in the vestibule. He was wearing a tux and looked like a Hollywood actor with his elegant bearing, which, sadly, his son had inherited. I had to admit that when I’d seen Nick in his black suit and white shirt, it had been hard not to stare or snap a photo. He was beyond handsome, but that was the only positive thing about him. The race, though, that had surprised me. So we had more in common than just a tattoo.
My mother was dazzling. All eyes would be on her that night and rightly so.
“Noah, you’re gorgeous,” she said, beaming, but whatever, she was my mom, I would always be pretty to her.
Will looked me over and furrowed his brow, making me immediately uncomfortable.
“Is something up?” I asked, surprised and annoyed. Surely he wasn’t going to tell me to cover up. One thing would be if it was me thinking it, but him? I didn’t know what I’d say back. But then his face relaxed.
“Au contraire, you look stunning!”
“Just one little touch-up,” my mother said, digging through her bag, pulling out a small bottle, and spraying my bare shoulders and neckline. “Now you’ll make an even better impression.”
Whatever. My mother thought I was still a little girl in pigtails, as Nicholas put it.
We went outside, where a sparkling limousine was waiting for us. I was surprised but at the same time fed up. I don’t know why it surprised me—what else should I expect?—but still, I couldn’t get used to this fancy lifestyle.
Will and my mom poured themselves glasses of champagne and, to my surprise, offered me one, which I accepted with pleasure, drank in one gulp, and refilled before they could realize it. If I wanted to get through the night, those wouldn’t be the last ones I had.
Nicholas had already left. I envied his freedom to come and go and do as he pleased. I would have to get a job soon if I expected to have a car. No way I was going to depend on anyone else to get where I needed to go.
I took my phone out of my clutch and saw that Dan hadn’t called me and there were no messages for me in our group chat. I took a few deep breaths and told myself he’d call. He’d probably lost his phone or something else had kept him from just hitting the damn button and talking to me.
That clouded my mood as we reached the hotel. To my surprise, a bunch of photographers were there waiting to immortalize the moment when William Leister would expand his company and with it his fortune. I felt so out of place that I would have taken off running if I wasn’t wearing those damned high heels.
“Nicholas should be here already,” William said. His attitude was serious. “He knows the family photos come at the beginning of the dinner.” This was the first time since I’d met Will that I’d seen him actually angry.
We waited for ten minutes in the limo while people shouted for us to come out so they could get a picture. It was ridiculous to stay huddled in there, but I guessed millionaires didn’tmind making dozens of photographers wait for their damned snapshot.
Then there was a commotion, and the photographers turned away and started shouting my stepbrother’s name.
“He’s here!” William shouted, irritated but also relieved. “Come on, honey,” he told my mother and opened the door.
As soon as I got out, I could see the photographers’ flashes practically blinding Nick and his date. They looked like real movie stars, and they were being treated like they were, too.
How could so many people know his name?
Our eyes met. I looked at him with indifference despite how handsome he was, and he scowled at me before turning back to his girlfriend or friend with benefits or whatever the hell she was. He kissed her on the lips, and the photographers went wild.
When they separated, the people shouted for more.
“Anna, how are you?” Will greeted Nicholas’s date. He was clearly livid. “If you don’t mind, we need to take some family photos, but we’ll be back with you in a few minutes.” What a gentle way of getting someone off your back!
Anna eyed me up. I could tell she hated me, probably for all the trash Nicholas had talked. And I hadn’t even had the pleasure of getting to know her. I ignored her and went over to my mother so we could take the damned photos and get them over with. We stood in front of a backdrop with ads for God knows what, and the flashes blinded me for a second.
When my mother had married one of the most important lawyers and businessmen in the United States, I hadn’t been surprised to hear she’d sometimes popped up in the papers or magazines, but this was totally crazy. Leister Enterprises: that was the logo you saw everywhere. I even saw actual stars. I freaked out when I spied Johana Mavis in one corner in a dress that was out of this world.
“Tell me that isn’t my favorite writer,” I said, grabbing the person next to me, whom I thought was my mother. But when my fingers touched that forearm, I realized it was too hard to be hers.
“You want me to introduce you?” he asked, and I looked up at him, immediately retracting my hand.
