Chapter 23
Crash and Burn
This is what flameout looks like
Later that night, as I open the door to my empty apartment, I suddenly feel sick and rush to the bathroom. All that anger I’ve held toward Nash has no place to go, and I’m filled with consuming guilt. I’m the one who remained silent, even though I knew something was wrong.
Normally, I would call Gwen at times like this, and she would talk me down. But I’ve fucked that up as well. No matter how “good” my intentions were, by lying to her, I broke our sacred trust, and now I’m paying the ultimate price.
The one thing I still had going for me was my passion for teaching piano to talented protégés like Clara. And now? Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is the shocked look on that sweet girl’s face when she caught her father kissing me.
I’ve always remained professional with Mr. Branson. I knew he was attracted to me, but I never took it seriously. Although it’s not an excuse for him kissing me, looking back, I can see how he might misconstrue my brief touches when comforting him as a sign of mutual interest.
Still, despite my innocence, my reputation is going to be trashed once Clara tells her mother and the news gets out. I’ll be forever labeled in the teaching community as a gold digger who was desperate enough to go after a divorced man with a sick child.
And what hurts my heart even more? I will likely never be able to teach talented children like Clara again. My work, my career…a career I was good at…is over.
I fall to the floor and break down sobbing. I desperately need someone who knows me to talk me out of spiraling before it gets out of control.
When a vision of my mother pops into my head, I hold my breath mid-sob. Thinking back on that little old lady who helped me today, I convince myself it’s a sign.
Pulling myself off the floor, I blow my nose and splash cold water on my face several times before picking up the phone. I plunk myself down on the couch, then immediately stand up again. I’m far too nervous to remain still.
Hitting dial, I start pacing the floor, waiting for her to pick up on her old landline.
After eight rings, I’m ready to end the call when I hear her voice.
“Who the hell is calling me this early in the morning?” she demands.
“Hey, Mom…” I answer hesitantly.
“Did you call me at this hour just to get me out of bed?”
I can already tell this was a mistake. “I didn’t notice the time, Mom. Sorry for waking you. I just…”
The silence on the other end is deafening.
So, I finish lamely, “…I wanted to talk to you.”
“At one in the morning?” she grumbles in disbelief.
“I’ll let you get back to bed.”
“Oh no, you don’t. It’s not okay to wake a person up, then hang up on them.”
I groan silently, wishing I could end this now. “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”
My mother, who just complained about being tired, goes on and on, telling me every minute detail of her life, from the medications she’s taking and the kind of breakfast she had to how much she hates the postman.
I grit my teeth, but I endure her prattling because I was the idiot who called.
Just when I think she’s done, she starts gossiping about my brothers.
She tells me everything they are doing wrong in their lives, and in the lives of their children, then complains how they don’t bother to call her anymore.
I wonder why? I think, rolling my eyes.
Sighing heavily, I finally break in, stopping her midsentence. “You know what? I really want to talk about Dad.”
The line goes silent, then she snarls, “Why bring that up?”
“I miss him, Mom,” I whimper, tears filling my eyes.
“Don’t you think I’ve suffered enough?” she growls. “I had to bring you and your brothers up on my own, with no one to help me.”
“I know…”
“Where’s the gratitude I’m due?”
Rather than get in a fight, I ask the question I’ve wanted to ask since I was a child. “How did Dad die?”
“You know how he died, and why are you bringing this up now?” she snarls. “It does no good to dwell on things you can’t change. It’s only a waste of time and energy.”
Tears prick my eyes. “Grieving someone you love is not a waste.”
“I have no time for this nonsense, Sophia,” she states in her “shut-the-fuck-up” tone.
“Did you ever love him, Mom?”
“I refuse to have this conversation with you.”
“Why?” I demand. “Why did you refuse to talk about Dad after he died? Why did you make me feel bad for crying about him?”
“How dare you wake me up in the middle of the night just to torment me like this. How dare you!” she fumes.
“I loved him, Mom, even if you didn’t.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then tell me!” I cry in frustration.
“You were always difficult to handle, Sophia. You know that? You’ve always been the difficult one. I don’t know how I managed to raise you as well as I did.”
“You didn’t raise me. You let me and the boys fend for ourselves.”
“Are you blaming me because I had to work? That’s rich. You’re lucky you had food to eat and shoes on your feet. That didn’t come out of thin air, young lady. But you were never grateful. I killed myself trying to provide for you kids.”
I stop pacing, deciding to tell her the painful truth. “Well, sometimes I just needed a hug and a good cry, Mom.”
Silence follows, and then she growls, “You’re impossible, you know that?”
Choking on the lump in my throat, I put it all out there. “Did you ever love me, Mom?”
“What a ridiculous thing to ask.”
“It’s a yes or no question.”
“You know the answer,” she says, suddenly sounding tired.
“Yeah…” I sigh. “I guess I do.”
I hit the button and end our call.
I’m teetering on a dangerous precipice.
The quiet after that call settles around me like a death shroud.
I have to leave or be crushed by the weight of it. Grabbing my car keys, I walk out the door and head to the only place that can drown out my dark thoughts.
Pulling up to the warehouse, I’m relieved to see it’s teaming with people on a Thursday night. I run to the entrance as if my life depends on it, grateful for the thumping base blasting from within. Once inside the dark space full of dancing rays of light, I let out a grateful sigh.
Making my way to the center of the floor, I close my eyes and give in to the energetic music. I think of my father as I dance, although jumping up and down in time with the beat is more realistic. Finally, I feel as if I can breathe again!
The collective energy in the room builds around me, and I lose myself to it. There is no past and no future…only now.
People around me smile, and we all cheer, enjoying the shared experience of an epic beat drop.
I keep dancing until my throat becomes painfully dry.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I remember what Amethyst said about staying hydrated.
It takes me a while to cut through the crowd of dancers before I make it to the bar and order some badly needed water.
Glancing at the sitting area, I feel a rush of goosebumps across my skin when I see Leōn seated at a table. He’s situated between two hot-looking women, but has a bored expression on his face.
Thrilled to see him here, I quickly finish my water and dab the sweat from my face with a tiny napkin. Setting the bottle on the counter, I take a deep breath and face him again.
Fluffing up my hair, I walk up to the rope partition and wave at Leōn when he looks in my direction, but his eyes scan right past me, and he glances down at the watch on his wrist. Unwilling to be ignored a second time, even if he has my best interests in mind, I called out loudly. “Hey, Leōn! I want to talk to you.”
He immediately looks up and stares hard at me, then a slow smile spreads across his face. Snapping his fingers, one of the waitresses hurries over to him. After a quick exchange, she walks up to the rope partition and unclicks it, inviting me to join him in the VIP lounge.
I keep my pose, remembering to approach him as the confident submissive I am.
He looks at the brunette girl on his left and tells her to leave. She pouts but gives up her seat without objection. Still, she throws me a quick stink eye as she walks away.
Leōn grins, looking at me hungrily as he pats the cushion beside him. It seems the two of us are feeling the same irresistible urge to connect. I feel like things are about to get heated…
“What do you want me to call you?” he asks with a glint in his eye.
I smile at the question, liking the idea of being called by my given name. “Sophie would be lovely.”
He leans closer, examining my face with those gorgeous sea glass eyes as the lights dance around us.
Suddenly, everything fades into the background, and the only thing I’m aware of is him.
“Why are you here?”
I glance at the floor and confess, “I needed to let off some steam.”
“And were you hoping to find me here?” he asks, leaning in even more so his lips are only inches from mine.
I stare into his eyes, feeling light-headed. “It came as a pleasant surprise, actually.”
“Did it?” he murmurs gruffly.
I can barely breathe.
When our lips touch, I feel a sickening jolt and pull back in surprise. Maybe it’s because we’re doing something wrong that my body responded so negatively to our kiss.
“Not much of a kisser, are you?” he chuckles, sitting back.
I’m hurt by the careless joke and get up to leave, but he stops me. “Now, now…we were just having fun.”
Not caring for his tone of voice, I glance at the blonde, who looks like she’s flying higher than a kite.
“Maybe your talent lies elsewhere. Would you care to give me a blow job?” he dares to ask, opening his legs under the pedestal table.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snap.
He grabs my wrist hard. “Don’t you know who I am?”
The girl beside him giggles.
There is a dangerous energy radiating from Leōn. I attempt to jerk my arm away, but his grip is too tight.
He leans toward the other woman and sneers. “Apparently, my brother has failed to mention me. Should I introduce myself?”
The blonde cackles, nodding vigorously like a bobblehead.
Turning back to me, he grins. “I am Nikolaos’s better half.”
I frown. “Nikolaos?”
A grim chuckle rolls off his tongue. “You call him by that asinine title. ‘Leōn’, isn’t it?”
Not waiting for an answer, he glances at the blonde. “My brother likes to play make-believe and is into some crazy ass shit.”
Looking back at me, he asks with a suggestive smile, “What kinds of things do you like to do, cream puff?”
Leon…has a twin? “I’d like to leave now,” I assert, suddenly frightened by this turn of events. Let me go.”
“I will, sweet cheeks…” he says, tightening his grip. “But I have a few questions first.”
I glance around, looking for help, but everyone looks away from me.
Leon’s brother locks eyes with me. “I hate to break it to you, but Nikolaos isn’t into fat cows. He prefers them pencil thin, like Jenny here.”
The blonde continues to giggle. “Yeah, like me.”
“I’ve known that prick all of my life, and I have never once seen him with a lardass.”
“You’re lying!” I yell, struggling to free myself from his grasp.
He shakes his head and smiles triumphantly. “If you were to ask him for pictures of his past girlfriends, you’d be in for a nasty surprise.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to believe me. Those are just the facts, cream puff.
” He drags me closer. “Go ahead, tell me the nasty things you do with him. You must be really good at them for him to pretend he’s into this.
” He looks my body up and down with disgust and laughs cruelly.
“You’re being played by the best player I know. ”
My mind can’t process what’s happening right now. Leon’s twin looks exactly like him. His voice even has the same sexy timbre. But I refuse to believe the heartless things he’s telling me.
“I dare you to ask him,” he challenges, then releases my wrist.
I pull away. “Fuck you to hell, you bastard!”
He laughs as I run from him and shouts above the music, “I may be a lot of things, Sophie, but I’m not a liar.”