Chapter 24 – Rhiannon
The smooth crooning of Usher’s Confessions album pours through the speakers in my bedroom as I glide cocoa butter all over my legs, preparing for my dinner with Rebel tonight.
There’s something about sensual music that always puts me in the right mindset—sexy, confident, and ready to conquer the evening.
It’s something I always suggest with my therapy clients if they’re struggling to connect, too.
Sometimes, music can help set the mood and fill in the gaps where confidence and fear linger.
It also helps that Usher had been my first crush growing up. I still remember hanging that shirtless photo of him from the inside of his album on my bedroom wall and swearing I was going to marry him someday.
Not that I need sexy Usher-level confidence tonight, this thing with Rebel is not a date, nor would I ever want it to be. It’s a potential business opportunity, which is something I’ve never been in a position to say no to, given our family’s tough financial situation.
I move to my closet, scanning the same tired collection of outfits I’ve worn a thousand times since graduating college six years ago.
Between my demanding work schedules and our tight finances, there hasn’t been time or extra money for a wardrobe upgrade.
Plus, outside of my cleaning uniform, I’m only on camera from the neck up for my therapy sessions and in some sort of costume for any modeling gigs.
Somehow, one of these pieces is supposed to impress a multi-millionaire rock star who hangs out with models and actresses for a living and convince him that I belong in his world enough to work with him again on his new business.
I sigh and flip through the hangers, stopping when I find a fitted red dress tucked near the back. It clings in all the right places, tighter than it used to fit me, and practically screams, I’m not desperate to be hired. I don’t need the money at all. But please do it anyway.
I’m not sure if that’s Usher’s influence, or my nerves, but I take it off the hanger anyway.
Sliding in a pair of silver hoop earrings, I’m jolted out of my thoughts by the ping of an email notification.
I glance at my laptop, expecting the usual—a sponsorship request or newsletter spam to my thriving social media page that’s been neglected recently—but what I see instead stops me in my tracks: a last-minute appointment request for therapy.
The details make my stomach twist. It’s a full-hour session which is double my usual rate, for an in-person couple in the city. That will also mean an extra surcharge to cover the time, inconvenience, and cost of my commute to get there and back.
My booking system is set up to auto-accept new appointments because let’s be honest, I can’t afford to turn away new business, and people aren’t exactly breaking down my door to talk about their sex lives via video.
But tonight, I was supposed to sit across from Rebel XOXO and hear about his clothing line and now I can’t.
What shitty timing.
I chew my lip, torn on what to do.
The extra cash from this appointment would do wonders for my budget, but bailing on a once-in-a-lifetime meeting with a rock legend to talk shop and secure a new gig feels like the type of thing I’ll tell my kids someday with regret.
I can just imagine little Keira and Kai now, their mouths falling open in disbelief when I tell them I almost met up with the rock idol hanging on their walls. That I almost walked in his show at New York Fashion week.
What’s a girl to do?
Naturally, Eden bursts through my door at the worst possible moment. She takes one look at me and gasps softly.
“Oh my god! What are you wearing? You look fucking hot.”
“Language,” I snap instinctively, though it’s pointless. In this house, we swear like sailors and act like them too. There isn’t an ounce of decorum left in the Carpenter family.
She rolls her eyes and flops onto my bed while I scramble to click out of the appointment reminder that’s currently flashing on my laptop like an angry beacon.
“This dress is supposed to look professional, not sexy.” And a little scandalous since I need to look like an actual model.
“Okay, well it’s giving auditioning for a reality TV show, and I can’t wait to hear why you’re wearing it, but first, I have something to tell you,” she says, grinning wider.
I take a seat on the edge of my bed. “What’s up?”
“Okay, so, my design class is planning a trip to Thomas International’s Furniture headquarters in Tucson next month.” She bites her bottom lip, that nervous tell of hers giving her away. Then she blurts out, “And it’s a thousand dollars for the flight, food, and lodging for the weekend.”
I draw in a shocked breath. A thousand dollars? That’s money none of us have to spare.
I nod carefully, keeping my face neutral and not wanting to steal her excitement over this trip. “Okay.”
“Before you say no,” she blurts, sitting up.
“I know money’s tight for us, and so I was thinking that Gabriel and I can drive around Hartford this weekend to pick up more furniture to refurbish for the thrift store.
Maybe we could sell enough to cover my part of the trip?
If we can find stuff for cheap that needs only a little love, we’ll basically break even.
The only cost will be the cost of our labor which I know he’ll give willingly once I explain. ”
I force a smile and pat her hand gently.
I already know that won’t work. After my conversation with Gabriel last night, I’m well aware he’s stretched thin with his job and can’t take on any more extra projects right now.
His job is keeping him later and not paying overtime.
Plus, the cost of gas alone for Eden to drive around would just dig us in an even deeper hole.
Beyond that, the shop is in disarray and hardly selling any of the new pieces we’ve added.
Even if they found and refurbished a couple new items, there’s no guarantee that they’d sell in time for her trip.
Still, I can’t bring myself to mention any of that to her.
Not when she looks this excited about the trip and I know it’s important for her to be there in Tucson to learn.
“There’s no need to do any of that,” I say firmly, the decision already made in my mind regardless of the night I had planned to meet up with Rebel.
I guess it’ll be nothing more than an almost story.
“I have the extra money somewhere in this room. Go ahead and tell your professor you’ll be there, and we can pay for it next week. It sounds like a fun trip.”
Eden’s face lights up with joy as she squeals and bounces on the bed.
“I can’t wait to pay you and Gabriel back someday when I’m designing my own line of furniture.”
I shake my head. “You’ll never have to do that. We just want you to be happy.”
And that last minute therapy appointment that just got scheduled? Yeah, I’m taking it. Tonight, Rebel XOXO will have to wait or, I’ll just miss out on working in his campaign entirely.
These types of opportunities will come around again… maybe. Either way, I’ll always choose Eden’s happiness, and my family’s synergy over my own wants and needs.
Eden jumps up from the bed and wraps her arms around my neck in a squeeze.
“I love you, sis. Now please explain to me why you’re dressed like this?”
“Ah, I have a dinner for a potential modeling gig for a new clothing line.” Not anymore.
She raises a brow. “With the solar power salesman?”
I laugh out loud, my mind instantly drifting to Cain and his disappointment when I mentioned meeting up with Rebel tonight. I bet he’ll be relieved to know that I’m no longer going to that dinner.
“No. Get this, it’s with Rebel XOXO.”
I doubt rock stars like him are okay with women like me rescheduling favors. There are a thousand other models that he could use with more experience anyway. I sigh softly and slump down at my desk my fingers falling to the appointment reminder that I should probably prep for.
Eden’s eyes widen. “You don’t mean, the Rebel XOXO, do you?”
“One and the same.”
She jumps up and heads to the doorway with a wide smile across her pretty face. “I’m so proud of you.”
My brows raise. “Uh, why would you be proud of me?”
She smiles. “Because number one that’s fucking cool, and number two he’s taking you on a date!” She squeals as I shake my head.
“It’s not a date.”
“You might not be thinking that, but how often do you get to have dinner with a rockstar? I know you’re swamped, with the hotel, the therapy appointments, the thrift store, but you’re taking the time to do something fun for yourself tonight and have a break.
You haven’t done that in a long time. When was the last time you just let loose in New York City?
You should totally get drunk with him and do something crazy. ”
Her words land square in my chest like a barb.
And when she leaves, the door to my bedroom left slightly ajar, guilt rushes in to take her place.
First, because this wasn’t something I was doing for me for fun.
It was about money. About our family. Another work opportunity and a chance to generate more revenue.
And second, because she’s right. I never take time for myself. The last time I took a break from the grind was Halloween night, and that’s only because Leo dragged me out with him and Chris.
And the last time I hit the city without any thoughts of duty, responsibility and regret was almost a year ago. Bryant Park. The night that I first met Cain.
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring down at the floor, at the straps of my high heels cutting across my feet, and all I can think about is how easy it is for me to pretend that I’m fine when slowly, I’m drowning in the weight of responsibility, shame, and most of all, guilt.
How easy it is to play a version of myself I barely recognize anymore.
Despite being a therapist who hands out advice all day like ‘give yourself some grace,’ I’m no poster child for self-care.
And deep down, I know why I’m not hesitating to cancel with Rebel and enjoy myself, instead focusing on the sure thing, the therapy appointment in the city tonight.
It’s because I know it’s what Mom and Dad would have done if they were still alive.
They always put us first, even when it meant sacrificing their own wants and needs to make us happy or spend time with us. Even if it meant losing their selves at times.
If I can carry even a sliver of that unselfishness forward, then I hope I’m making them proud. I owe it to them. I owe them so much more.
I get up and head to my closet, rifling through the clothes until I find something more decent—a simple maroon sweater dress with a modest dip in the neckline and a silk bow that ties around the waist.
I pull it on, tugging the tie tightly as if to anchor myself to my purpose: supporting my family and being the stand-in mother that Eden needs, then grab a pair of knee-high black boots and slip them on.
Without even glancing at the appointment’s address, I shove my laptop into my bag and head out. A quick walk to the train station and then straight into the city for work.
I don’t care who this couple is or why they so urgently need me.
Someone needs my support with their marriage, and all I can think about as the train bumps along the tracks is how badly I need someone to support me too.
And that no matter what I do, I’m failing somebody in this situation—Eden or myself.
Damned if I meet up with Rebel and let her believe I’m prioritizing my own needs while causing her to miss out on her school trip to Arizona because we can’t afford the cost.
Damned if I don’t meet up with Rebel and spend another night working so she can afford her trip.
I pull out my phone and fire off a text to Rebel asking if he’d be willing to reschedule for later this week. He doesn’t reply which isn’t surprising. Instead, a message from my sister comes in.
Eden: I love you. Thank you for always making my dreams come true. I’m proud of you for doing something for yourself tonight. Have fun with the hot, rock star. Take a picture for me.
Two hours later, the train screeches to a halt, jolting me from my thoughts. I square my shoulders and step off the platform, pushing the guilt about lying to Eden down as best I can.
For now, I’ll just focus on getting through the night and maybe someday I’ll find a way to believe that I deserve good things and ease too.