Page 5 of Let Me
“Do you always bring the trash to your parents’ house?” I counter, turning now, ignoring the way my stomach flips as I lock eyes with him.
His expression is unreadable as he slips off his shoes. Shoes that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
Then his lips curl into a smile. “No,” he answers me. “Sometimes I take them to my penthouse.” And then he goes up the stairs without a glance back.
FOUR
Present
I TOUCHED HER.
I can still feel her throat under my hand, even though she’s long gone. With any luck, she’ll be on a plane back to the States. Maybe already there by now, because it’s nearly midnight. The bass downstairs from Dad’s annual summer party is pumping, and people are drunk as hell, acting sloppy. I’m in my old bedroom, and I know Mom is in hers, too.
I don’t know why Dad throws this party.
Actually, Idoknow. It comes with owning half of the real estate market in Toronto and wanting to show off what that means. I’ll be leaving in the morning, of course. I only came for Mom. I don’t give a fuck about Dad, just as he never gave a fuck about Jack. That motherfucker didn’t even cry when he died.
Riley thinks I don’t know.
She thinks I don’t know the scheme she cooked up with my dad. She thinks I don’t know he’s pulling her strings. Maybe I don’t know everything, but she’s obviously fucking him. That much was made clear tonight. What I don’t understand is what he gave her as an incentive. She loathed Jack, in the end. I can’t really blame her; he was controlling. Obsessive. She couldn’t go anywhere by staying with him. But even still, what she did to him…I don’t see how she could hate him this much. To keep fucking him over even in death, by fucking with my father.
My throat feels tight.
I shake out my hands, trying to get the feel of her off of my skin. It sickens me that when my hand was on her throat, when that fear slid into her eyes, I feltgood.Not just because her life was, quite literally, in my hands, but because…
I shake my head and lay back in bed, tapping my fist to my mouth and closing my eyes. I can’t think about her. In the three years since Jack died, I’ve tried so hard not to think about her. When I do, it eats me alive. Knowing that, even though I blame her, and even though, eventually, I’m going to hurt her as bad as she’s hurt me, it was my fault too.
I fell for her.
She was only eighteen. I was twenty-four. I was in law school, and I was having the time of my life. I saw her at my parents’ house when I would stop by, which was often, and I saw the way she looked at me. Wide eyed and terrified.But there was something else in her eyes, too. The way they lingered a little too long on mine. The way I wanted them to. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it, of course. Jack was crazy about her, but he was no saint himself. Maybe he drove her to want the escape. To want something she couldn’t have.
Fuck this, I think, and grab my phone, sitting up in bed. Dad won’t be going to sleep anytime soon, and he probably won’t be going to bed alone. He’ll take the guest room, and it’s across the house from me, but I still don’t want to risk catching a glimpse of whomever he pulls into bed with him. I hate him enough as it is. I don’t need to see the pussy he takes in the same house as my mom to make me hate him more.
Luckily, Benji’s texted me.
Come to the club.
I know where he means. I know, because it’s where we always go when I’m in the city. He owns the place. I live less than an hour away, but I try not to come here much. When I do, we go out. There. I shake my head, trying to clear any thoughts ofher, and I dress quickly, a white shirt, black blazer. And then I get in the Infiniti, and I leave without telling anyone goodbye.
FIVE
May, 3 years ago
SHADE IS PACKED. Schools are out for the summer, it’s Friday night, graduation for seniors is next month, and it seems like everyone eighteen and older is in this club. I had walked past the long line of people waiting to get in, didn’t bother to flash my ID to the guards. Benji is waiting for me at our table in the back of the red and black main room, vibrating strobe lights beyond our reach, thank God.
I hate that shit.
Benji has a vodka soda brought over with a snap of his fingers, and he leans back in the booth, eyes on me.
“So?” he prods me. “Sure you don’t want in on this?” He gestures vaguely to the throng of people grinding against one another in the middle of the expansive dance floor, black marble floors, glittering red ceiling.
I shake my head. “I graduate in July. When I do, I’m taking SVE off the ground.”
Benji scoffs as a waitress wearing a skimpy white dress sets down my drink, flashing me a smile. I nod in her direction, then turn away from her, picking up my drink.
“I think SVE is already more thanoff the ground,” Benji says, rolling his eyes. He’s got his arms hooked around the black leather booth. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, surveying the money maker that is Shade. Benji didn’t go to grad school. He barely graduated university. He hates everything about what he calls ‘institutionalized education systems’. I don’t blame him; law school has been a time suck. But this is not really my scene.
I like parties, and women, and drinking. I just like smaller settings.
