Chapter Sixteen
Damian
I can’t believe she’s making me go to this thing.
It’s Wednesday night and Mom walked into my room as soon as I got back from my tutoring lesson.
She told me we’re attending a charity event tonight.
I gave her a what-the-heck face because I never go to those kinds of events.
Mom doesn’t invite me because she’s embarrassed of me.
But she told me I didn’t really have a choice, and honestly?
I kind of don’t. This event is commemorating a new elementary school that’s being opened in my grandmother’s name.
Mom’s mom was the only person, other than Dad, who was good to me.
She died when I was seven, so I don’t have many memories of her.
But she was there for me when my mother wasn’t.
She’d take me out for ice cream and tell me stories.
She was like any other grandma. And her life revolved around charity and helping others.
So of course I want to go to an event honoring the amazing things she accomplished.
Mom wants me to go not because I have a connection to my grandmother, but because she’d be super embarrassed if her own flesh and blood chose not to attend this event.
I wish I could honor my grandma in a different way, though.
I know she’d be a little disappointed in me if I didn’t go.
So that’s why I find myself standing in front of the mirror in my room wearing a pressed white shirt, black slacks, my leather jacket instead of a suit jacket, a blue tie, and nice shiny shoes.
Mom stands in the doorway of my room, frowning as she takes in the leather jacket. We went back and forth arguing about it. She claims I’m not allowed to leave the house unless I change into the suit jacket. I told her that’s not happening.
“Can’t you dispose of that jacket for one night?” she says. “It’s not even an entire night. It’s only a few hours. You can handle a few hours, can’t you?”
I look at her through the reflection in the mirror. “No.” The leather jacket is like my armor. Without it, I feel vulnerable, weak, and exposed.
She sighs as though the world is coming to an end. I guess in her world, with all those rules, it might as well be. “You’re disgracing your grandmother.”
“Am not.” Grandma always told me to pave my own path and be my own person. I think deep down, she understood that I’ll never fit into this world.
Mom checks the time on her designer watch. “We don’t have much time before Chandler arrives to drive us to the event.”
I lift my brow. “Chandler? What happened to Oscar?”
She plucks some invisible dirt off her suit jacket. “I fired him today. He was late too many times.”
“Wasn’t his wife sick or something?”
“His wife’s mother was sick and she left the country to help take care of her. Oscar neglected his duties here.”
I give her a look. “Yeah, because he probably had his personal duties to take care of. Geez, Mom.”
Her lips twist in annoyance. “That’s why firing him benefits both of us. I need my chauffeur to drive me to wherever I need to go and he’s free to take care of whatever he needs to take care of.”
“Right. And the fact that he has no source of income means nothing to you.”
She purses her lips. “I won’t stand here and be judged by a teenager who knows nothing about life. Change your jacket and let’s go.” Whirling around, she walks out of my room.
“Not happening,” I mutter to my reflection as I try to make my hair as neat as I can. I put whatever I needed to put on it to help it stay in place, but it’s still messy. Oh well.
I stuff my phone into my pants pocket and go downstairs. Mom’s already wearing her fur coat and gestures for me to get going, frowning at my leather jacket. After grabbing my coat from the closet, we leave the house.
A black limousine is parked out front. We only take the limo for fancy events, like tonight’s. A man stands outside the limo. He’s young, short, and his cheeks are red from being out in the cold for so long.
He must be Chandler, the new chauffeur. He bows his head as we approach the car. “Ms. Harrington, Mr. Harrington.” He opens the door to the back of the limo.
Mom lets me slide in first before folding herself inside in a way that some rich women do, all proper and royalty-like. Chandler shuts the door before rushing to the other side and getting in the car.
I stare out the window as we drive to the venue, thinking about Oscar and how he has no job now. I remember Dad having a hard time finding work after he and Mom divorced. He went from job to job until he started a construction business that did pretty well. We weren’t rich, but we were happy.
The drive to the event isn’t a long one.
Chandler stops before a large building that hosts events such as these.
He runs around to our side of the limo and opens the door for us.
He just stands there as Mom glances up at him expectantly.
He looks at her, completely lost, like he’s not sure what he’s doing wrong. His gaze flits to me for help.
I hold out my hand, trying to demonstrate what she expects of him. Like a light bulb goes off in his head, he holds out a hand to Mom to help her climb out of the limo.
“Thank you, Chandler,” Mom says as she steps out. The guy is only a few years older than me, and it’s obvious he hasn’t been doing this for long.
When I get out of the limo and pass him, he whispers, “Thanks, man.”
“No problem.”
Chandler drives off to park the car where the rest of the cars are parked. Mom and I make our way toward the building’s entrance.
“Don’t embarrass me tonight, Damian,” Mom mutters under her breath. “This event is honoring your grandmother, and I won’t have any problems. Do you understand me?”
“I think it’s best we stay out of each other’s way.”
She shoots me a glare. “Damian Harrington.”
“It’s Lawrence.”
She shuts her eyes, releasing a heavy breath.
“Maybe you want to forget Dad ever existed, but I don’t,” I whisper so the other people heading to the doors don’t overhear us.
Her eyes open. “Is that what you truly believe?” She shifts her gaze to something in the distance and a bright smile flashes across her face. “Eloise!” She and a woman bend to plant air-kisses on each other’s cheeks. “It’s so good to see you.”
The women break apart and Eloise, who’s around my mom’s age, takes me in. “No. Is this little Damian? I heard you’re living with your mom. And attending her school. Are you having a good time?”
From the corner of my eyes, I see Mom giving me a don’t-you-dare-make-me-look-bad glare. Truth is, I don’t want to make her look bad—at least not on purpose. I only react to the way I’m treated, so if her fancy people treat me like I’m their equal, I’ll show them the same courtesy.
I force a smile. “Yes, the school is great and I’m acclimating well. I actually feel so at home there.”
She nods, pleased with my answer. I can feel my mom heaving a sigh of relief. But then Eloise notices the leather jacket and her lips press together. Mom’s eyes follow hers before she lets out a laugh. “You know how children are. They find their own ways to express themselves.”
I internally scoff at how desperate my mom is to justify my choices. It’s ridiculous.
Eloise nods again. “Of course! You don’t want to hear about the phases my little princess is going through right now. Adorable.”
Mom laughs. “Children are a blessing.”
I want to glare at her. I certainly did not and still don’t feel like a blessing to her. More like an inconvenience.
As we enter the building, more people gather around Mom, chatting to her about all these different things.
And of course they mention my grandmother and all the good she did in the world.
Mom’s face shines. I don’t normally see her this happy.
She’s usually frowning at me or worried about the school.
But this is where she belongs. It’s her life.
And that’s fine. It doesn’t mean it needs to be my life, too.
When she has a free second, Mom turns to me. “Why don’t you mingle with the other kids? You remember most of them from your childhood, don’t you?” She says it loudly, like she wants everyone to know I’m not some antisocial delinquent.
I do know most of the kids. Some are from Harrington Bay Academy as well. These are the kids who crapped on my dad for not being “wealthy enough.” The kids I got into a few fights with while trying to defend him.
“Go on,” Mom stresses under her breath.
They’re the last people I want to be around, but I can’t stand being with Mom and her friends a second longer.
I’m tempted to leave, but she’s watching me with an expression that once again warns me not to embarrass her.
My legs take me to the group of kids my age, who are laughing and chatting. When they see me come near them, a few turn up their noses. Some from school ignore me.
I stand there with my hands in my pockets. Mom said I should go here, but she didn’t say I have to interact with them.
One girl two years older than me, who I went to elementary school with and who is now in college, gives me a look like I’m something filthy that shouldn’t be near them. “What brings you here, Lawrence?” She purposely used my dad’s last name to show everyone how inferior she thinks I am.
The rest laugh, the guy whose arm is around her the loudest. He looks around college age, too. Must be her boyfriend.
“Heard your poor daddy died,” another girl says with a fake sad expression on her face. “Couldn’t afford medical care without bumming off Beatrice’s money?”
I glare at her. “Don’t you dare talk about my dad.”
She scoffs and the rest follow. “You’re scum just like him,” a guy says. “Got some dirty blood in you.” The rest shiver in disgust, then burst out laughing.