Chapter 7
I don’t belong here.
Heston
My outburst at the front doors earned me stern glances, complete with furrowed brows as people peered at me over the top of their glasses. I was tempted to wave and bow, saying, “Yes, that was me. I made a scene, and I’m so glad I did. So there.”
Father used to tell me I needed to be stronger and more opinionated. “Stand up for yourself,” he’d urged me.
When I had to, I advocated for myself and Dad, but Father wasn’t here to see it because it was regarding me being left out of his will.
While I didn’t give a damn about his millions, my father’s thoughtlessness had denied me an education and a career, and thrust Dad and me close to the poverty line.
Maybe his idea of being strong was to make it on my own, without help from his fortune.
Kenneth wove through a rabbit warren of corridors, all dark wood and with portraits of stern men on the wall. I could almost sense their displeasure as me and my sneakers strode over the hallowed floor. The club scented of money, which to me was the smell of old wrinkled leather.
But it was that other intoxicating scent that teased me, daring me to neglect my errand and find the source.
Can’t do that, I told myself. I was here for Dad, and it might be my only chance to speak to Sebastian. But still it lured me, urging me to ignore my stepfather. I imagined it saying, “Find me if you can.”
Wow! It had been a long time since I’d read fairy tales, and I had to ignore that fantasy in my head—probably my subconscious trying to avoid what was coming—and man up.
We paused in front of a private dining room, and Kenneth knocked.
“Come.” Sebastian’s menacing tone had me straightening my spine as I prepared for him to chew me out. My eyes flicked left and right, hoping there was a plate I could use to deflect the venom that my stepfather would throw at me.
“Heston.”
I heard him before my eyes adjusted to the dim light in the dining room. Sebastian was in there alone, apart from Vince, his private secretary. But Vince wasn’t sitting but hovering behind him, clasping a tablet. Poor guy, he probably had to bring his own lunch from home.
My stepfather wore a gray wool suit, similar to one Father often wore. A pink tie and a pink handkerchief completed the look, but if I kneeled on the thick carpet and inspected his shoes, the expensive leather would be shiny enough to see my reflection.
Sebastian forked a piece of salmon and put it in his mouth. He chewed, reminding me of a cow chewing its cud. I hid my revulsion by putting my hand behind my back and digging the nails into my palm.
“What do you want?” He replaced the fork on his plate, and I winced as the metal clinked on the porcelain.
“You didn’t embarrass me with your lies because you were interested in my health.
” He checked his watch—his very expensive watch, which I’d seen in TV adverts. “I’m a busy man, so out with it.”
“Speaking of health, Dad is not well.”
Sebastian didn’t glance up or stop eating.
He picked up a bread roll and tore it in half, slathering butter on one.
I opened my mouth to tell him if he continued with the butter overload, he might clog his arteries.
But I bit my tongue. Not only would he not appreciate my advice, but I didn’t give a shit if I witnessed him taking his last breath before collapsing onto the floor.
“Something amusing?”
Damn, I was smiling as I pictured him gasping, hands clutching his chest.
Dad would reprimand me if I told him what I was thinking. Yeah, that was awful wishing a painful death on someone, even if it was my stepfather. What if it wasn’t painful, and he just died? Would that still make me a horrible person?
“Heston!”
“Sorry, yes. Dad will die unless he gets heart bypass surgery.” I blurted it out, and while Sebastian’s expression didn’t flicker, Vince mouthed, “I’m sorry,” behind his boss’s back.
“Don’t be so dramatic.” He bit the bread, and butter glistened on his lips.
“The doctor said his arteries clogged because he ate too much butter.” I couldn’t resist and wished I could high-five someone as the bread tumbled from Sebastian’s fingers.
“If you’re here to taunt me, you can leave.”
“Please, Sebastian, I don’t have the money for my dad’s surgery. He’s a good man, and since the divorce, he’s devoted his life to raising me. Will you pay for the surgery? There’s no one else I can ask.”
My heart was thump-a-lumping in my chest, and I wished I could sit, but my stepfather hadn’t invited me. He loved making people squirm, and it was easier to do that if they were standing.
“Can’t he join a gym or stop eating burgers? Why does he need an operation?” His watch caught the light as he cut the fish.
“It’s too late for that.” I could have thrown facts, like an automatic weapon, telling him how we couldn’t afford that either. “Please. He can no longer work, only walks with difficulty, and his harsh breathing is so loud it keeps me awake at night.”
Sebastian dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.
“Do you know how much your father gave his former husband over the years? No, he didn’t tell you how in those early years we struggled because you needed a roof over your head, food, and an education.
” He sneered and his lips curled as if he’d tasted something bad.
I stifled a response because he wouldn’t hear, and whatever I said would only antagonize him further.
Sebastian put his elbows on the table, a habit my dad hated, and I imagined him telling my stepfather to get them off. He rested his chin on his hands, and he appeared to have something stuck in his teeth because his tongue was rummaging around his mouth.
“I might help you.”
I raced around to his side of the table and fell to my knees. Oh yeah, that carpet was soft.
“Thank you, Sebastian. If there’s anything I can do for you, tell me.”
“I can give you a job.”
My heart sank, because no matter how much he paid me, I couldn’t make enough to pay for the operation. I’d been so close, and I pictured my stepfather holding a bundle of cash and snatching it away at the last minute.
“But I—”
“Don’t interrupt.”
He was speaking to me as if I were a child, and my father’s words echoed in my head.
Stand up for yourself.
I couldn’t punch him or scream. My earlier performance got me an audience, as though he were an ancient king and I were a peasant, coming cap in hand to beg for his majesty’s favor.
“And stop whining. I’ll pay for the damned operation and I’ll give you a job. It’s a little unusual, but I think it might work.”
He was going over and above what I’d asked for, and I wondered what the “unusual” job entailed. Maybe he had clogged toilets or wanted his toenails cut. Anything to humiliate me. But I’d do it without complaining if Dad could undergo the life-saving surgery.
“And get up, for gods’ sake.” He made a face. “You stink.”
I staggered to my feet, and my belly rumbled. It’d been hours since I ate. Sebastian leaned away and flapped his hand.
“Don’t expect me to feed you.”
“No, but can you give me a hint when you might hand over the money?” Sebastian might be all talk, and Dad couldn’t wait while Sebastian enjoyed watching him suffer.
“Send the details to Vince.” He grinned. “And don’t worry about the job. You’ll have more money than in your wildest dreams.”
He shooed me away. “Now let me finish my meal.” He stuck the fork in his salmon. “Even though it’s cold.”
I sidled out of the room and leaned on the door. Father would have been proud at how I didn’t allow Sebastian to steamroll me. And yet, I suspected a trap regarding the job. He’d been almost giddy when he spoke of it. My stepfather got excited about one thing: money. What was in it for him?
But that scent captured me, and I trailed along one corridor leading to the main dining room, but it faded. Retracing my steps, the aroma lingered outside one of the private dining rooms, one much larger than Sebastian’s. I placed my ear to the door but could only pick up a murmur of voices.
“What are you doing?”
A man stood at my elbow, his arms folded, as he looked down his nose.
“Termites. In the wood. Terrible. My boss says the place will need tenting.”
His face fell as I scurried toward the front entrance, but I skidded to a halt as that elusive scent slapped me in the face.