Chapter 1 #2
Where my mom is all hard planes and no nonsense, he’s soft, plush and gentle.
Ever the patient man when she strikes him with her hardened words and sometimes rejection.
He handles her with extreme care. My mom can be difficult to deal with.
Even her father told my dad to leave her.
Yet, he stayed firmly by her side, smoothing out her sharp edges.
Sometimes I think her anger can burn worlds. Even if it did, my dad would be right beside her, dousing out the flames. She knows that. We all know that. Don’t get me wrong, he has a temper too.
One time, my mother had a complete breakdown while pregnant with the twins. She was having cold feet about motherhood, and she was scared that since she had been living a harsh life, maybe she wouldn’t be a good mother. She ran away two months shy of her delivery date.
Angry but mostly worried sick, my dad’s temper caused hurricanes and threats of tsunamis on the east coast. He sent a message through his echofracture that carried across the plains. He told her that if she didn’t come out of hiding, he would drown the entire world in his fit of rage.
She came out and those tides and storms calmed down.
“Should you be eating this kind of food when your tour starts in five months? Aren’t you supposed to stay under a certain weight?” mom asks, with no malice to her question.
She’s right. If I gain even five pounds, it can throw off my wardrobe.
I unbutton my tactical pants and release a deserving sigh. “No, I shouldn’t. It’s just that it feels like forever since I had a good homecooked meal. All the meals I eat come from Mikhail. If we didn’t live in the same city, I’m not sure if I would even have those.”
“Speaking of your job. Penny, where’s your first concert at?” Dad asks coolly, turning our playful moment serious.
“The Dome Stadium in Las Vegas, why?” Roman leans into me, I lightly smack Roman’s arm off of me.
“Roman, make sure to add additional security to your sister’s schedule,” he orders. “Human trafficking isn’t just coming from Mexico, it’s within the states too Penny. Your mom and I think that the kidnapping and experimenting started somewhere in the west coast.”
“The west coast?” I inquire. From my last conversation with my contact in Beverly Hills, these trafficking was isolated to Mexico only .
What has changed?
“Yes, we’ve received intel from contacts in Los Angeles, Seattle and Las Vegas.”
“I’ve been doing sweeps around your city and eliminating possible threats,” my sister Raevyn adds.
I take my time looking at each one of my family members. “And I’m just hearing this now, why?”
“Honey, we only wanted to make sure that there was a true threat,” mom placates, forcing her voice to sound soft and soothing. “There’s no need to cause hysteria if claims were false. They weren’t, so now you know,” she shrugs as if this isn’t a big deal.
And there it is.
As if keeping me in the dark, isn’t a big deal. As if including me in our operational details isn’t important. This is where they turn me into an outsider in my own family.
“Those images that you showed in the Chamber, I was the only one seeing them for the first time?”
“Yes, but honey to be fair, you live all the way in Los Angeles. Plus, you’ve been busy with your job and it’s a wonderful job, right sweetheart,” mom looks to my dad for confirmation.
She uses him to measure how sincere she comes off. To check to see if she’s being gentle or not.
It’s not gentle though. It’s condescending.
Mom views my job, my career as a hobby to fill my time. All of them do really. She doesn’t understand my success. Success to her equates to blood, gore, allegiance, and ruling .
Plus, I’m the baby of the family. A true oops baby. My siblings are two hundred and seventy one years old.
I’ll be eighty in December.
They coddle me. They entertain my ideas and wants. They shelter me almost. The only things they truly allowed me to do are the ongoing combat trainings, the blind dates they setup for me and being a celebrity.
I’m only allowed to be a celebrity because my grandma has connections in the industry so there’s a safety net.
She used to be a singer and model back in her day.
By her day, that was at least a millennia ago.
Still, she has eyes and ears everywhere.
Once a whisper of danger or foul play is suspected, they’ll extract me immediately.
Anger coils my blood.
They leave me out of everything yet want to play like we’re a happy family? Hell no. “Roman, could you take me home? I need to prepare for next week’s photo shoot.”
“Penny, honey, you just got here. It’s been a while since we spent time as family like—”
I cut mom off. “No. I need some rest.” And some space from all of you.
My dad rubs soothing circles on her lower back, his piercing pale blue eyes resigned. “Call us sometimes. Your sister or brother or mom can come get you—”
“I can hop on a flight just fine,” I cut my dad off and I walk to Roman, grabbing his arm. “Take me home please.”
He does without a word.
We drift to my foyer that leads to my living room that overlooks the oceanfront within minutes .
The sun is setting across the water, and the sky is an electric blue, orange and fuchsia with a few scattered clouds. Since my patio doors in my kitchen are slightly open, you can smell the ocean’s breath.
Warm and salty.
“Thanks for the lift,” I say, taking off my combat boots before entering further into my home.
“You know we didn’t mean anything by this right?”
I look over my shoulder, Roman stands there with his hands behind his back. Looking like the perfect soldier. More of the Syndicate puppet than my brother in moments like this. He stands like this when he has to face and address his betrayal against me.
I snort. “I don’t care because the truth of the matter is, you all will never see me as an equal.”
“Pen, you know that’s not what this is. You don’t have power—”
“I can be trained like you, fight like you, but you all alienate me when it comes to powers. That’s where you all draw the line?” My voice slightly elevates towards the end. Pointing a finger towards him, I ask, “who was even your informant from the west coast?”
Silence.
I turn my back on him. “Yea,” I laugh dryly. “It was me.”
I don’t bother looking back at him, I keep my focus on the crashing waves in front of me. Time and time again, they forget who their little spy is, their little informant.
“Because of my job , I hear and see everything. And as a dutiful Syndicate Chairman’s daughter, I feed that information right back to you all. And what do you all do, every single time? Shut me out.”
“Pen,” he breathes out, I hear him taking a step closer to me .
No, he doesn’t get to be the exhausted one here.
I do.
“Roman, I’m really tired. Let’s do this another time.”
I feel a ghost of a kiss on the top of my head before the weight of his presence is gone.
***
Five days later, I’m sitting across from my fortieth potential husband. Already, I know this will be a waste of my time.
“Once we have our first born, you will stop this whole celebrity hobby,” Anthony says as he dips his dry chicken tenders in honey mustard.
Such a child.
Who eats chicken tenders at a five-star Michelin restaurant?
I’m surprised it’s even on the menu, but I suppose rich people have to train their children to have taste somewhere.
While his plate is that of a toddler, mine has steak smothered in light mushroom gravy with a side of asparagus and cauliflower mash.
“You would also need to make sure that our first born is a boy. In fact, make sure all of our children are boys. Girls aren’t worth the name you give them, it’s best to not create one if you can,” he continues and I can’t drink my red wine fast enough.
Can one even have a say in what the sex will be in the womb?
Jackass.
I cut a strip of steak, dab it in some gravy and places it in my mouth. Releasing a satisfied moan, I close my eyes and relax in my chair, savoring each chew. Chef Mikhail Melone has outdone himself tonight.
“Oh, so you like it when I talk dirty to you huh? ”
Wait, what did he say? Talk dirty? Talk dirty when?
“Don’t worry, I’ll call for the check, and I can have you in my bed writhing before you can say Albuquerque.”
He looks at me with a dirty grin that already tells me having sex with him will only lead to me staring off to the ceiling, disappointed and wishing for a swift death.
Choking on my medium well done steak, I quickly say, “Albuquerque!”
His grin falls quick.
Good, you sick bastard.
“Since you like to make jokes, you can pay for dinner.”
He takes his white napkin and dabs the excess honey mustard off the corners of his mouth.
Now he has etiquette?
“Tell your father good luck marrying you off. And news flash, you are not the prize. I am.”
With that, he stands, dropping his napkin on the table and storms off. Reaching forward, I grab my red wine and sip the rest down fast.
Truth be told, I was always going to pay for tonight’s dinner. Word on the street is, although Anthony Monroe comes from a well off family, he is a cheapskate.
This date alone proved that.
He wore a cheap, no name, no brand suit. It seemed as though he’s been wearing the same dress shoes since elementary school. Which probably explains his eating palate. He didn’t even get a fresh line up. There was no, absolutely no effort put in place for tonight’s date.
I, on the other hand, am wearing a sleek red spaghetti dress that highlights all my curves. The dress is paired with four inch gold open toe strapped heels. My hair is straightened and curled so that it lays in loose waves down my back.