Chapter 5
Five
Before dressing, I slip into a bathrobe and apply my makeup on the fluffy stool in front of my vanity mirror.
Claudia stands behind me, fanning a blow-dryer over my hair to create some volume.
She gives me two braids atop my head, letting the rest of my hair sweep past my shoulders in carefully created waves.
Claudia then chooses three outfits from my closet, and I pick a white dress with a dusty pink and fuchsia floral design.
This is the perfect early-spring dress. It has a sweetheart neckline, with a thin, netted lace covering the decolletage.
A jeweled brooch sits above the pointed toe of my dusty pink heels, and Claudia selects a matching purse, readying me for the country club.
On the drive into town, I keep my head down, pointed at my uninteresting phone.
Not that Roger and I usually talk, but this trip feels especially prickly.
He’s the only person who knows I went to The Scorpions Motorcycle Clubhouse.
He must think I’m such a fool. Or, at the very least, be wondering where my lack of judgment came from.
I’d also like to know.
When we pull up outside the country club, I wait for Roger to leave his seat and walk around to my passenger door. I give him a courteous smile as he moves to let me out.
“Any idea of what time you’ll finish dinner, miss?” Roger asks.
I shake my head. “No, sorry. Sometimes the girls like to go into town for ice cream afterwards.”
Roger’s smile grows, endeared by the innocent act. “Very well, miss. Have a lovely evening.”
“Thank you, Roger.”
My heels click as I make my way toward the front glass doors. The doorman tips his hat, opening the door for me. I discreetly pull a bill from my purse and hand it to him on my way through.
“Good evening, Miss Ashworth,” Gregory, the front of house manager, greets me with open arms. “So lovely to see you again.”
I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Thank you, and you too.”
“Your table is ready,” Gregory says, leading me to the dining room. “Your two guests are already seated.”
Gregory has a server escort me to my table. Despite the string quartet playing, tension stretches through my body. Chatter buzzes around the room, and like a reflex, a fake smile plasters on my face.
Hope and Sylvie sit across from each other at our usual table. A yellow and white flower arrangement nestles in a golden vase on the beige linen, surrounded by tall water glasses and perfectly polished silverware.
“Hi Ness,” Hope and Sylvie say in unison with eager waves.
I tuck a wave of blonde hair behind my ear, sitting as the server pushes in my seat from behind. “Hi ladies.”
The server fills my glass with sparkling mineral water, and I thank him with a tip.
“How was your shift at the hospital?” Sylvie asks, swirling her water glass. “I don’t know how you stand it.”
“I’m telling you, girls, it’s so rewarding to see the patients’ happy faces after I read to them.” Even though I don’t want to ask them, my mother’s voice is in my head. “Would either of you be interested in volunteering?”
Nervous laughter sizzles out of them.
Sylvie hunches, finding my eyes. “Wait. You’re serious?”
I swallow hard and force a smile. “Mm-hmm. It could be a fantastic way to help drive donations.”
Hope winces. “Maybe. It just makes me squeamish.”
Sylvie nods. “Agreed. Being around all that sickness is one thing, but the place is so rundown. Makes me want a tetanus shot just thinking about it.”
Hope smirks. “Maybe if we raise enough money, and they spruce up the place, I’ll make time to go down there.”
Sylvie takes a sip from her glass and sets it on the table. “You know we’re in when it comes to fundraising. I can’t wait for the black-tie gala.”
I sit back in my chair. “Me too, because the planning is overwhelming.”
“Don’t stress; you have us,” Hope says, patting my wrist. “I’ve heard buzz from my parents about the amount of redevelopment happening in that town. Plus, I think Victoria Falls residents will be happy to fundraise so Logan’s Point people can find care in their own town.”
My nose wrinkles as I avoid frowning. She may as well suggest we nail ‘Keep Out’ over the ‘Welcome to Victoria Falls’ sign. I know the girls think I’m crazy for spending my time at Logan’s Point, but at least things are unexpected over there. Here, I can predict every single thing that will happen.
“Hello, Vanessa,” a voice says from behind me. “Now my day feels complete at the sight of you.”
I don’t need to peer over my shoulder. I know exactly who the voice belongs to. And, I’m already tired of his lingering presence.
“Oh, hey, LJ,” I reply with a flat sigh.
Everyone wants me matched with Landon Prescott Junior, or LJ, especially my parents. His father is vice president of my father’s plastics division. If LJ and I were a couple, it would mutually benefit our families.
LJ is a typical preppy boy who thinks he’s God’s gift. He’s tall and slender with white-blonde hair and aqua eyes. He’s not Mr. Popular, but he’s at all the right parties and is never on the wrong end of a conversation. On paper, he’s the right boy for me to date.
If only I had one shred of romantic feelings toward him.
LJ slides a dining chair over from a nearby table and sits himself between me and Sylvie. “How was your day?”
Sylvie rolls her eyes and scoots her chair to the right for some breathing room.
Before I answer LJ, I gesture at Sylvie. “Are you okay?”
“Now I am,” Sylvie jokes, eyeing LJ. “I didn’t want your suitor leaning over me to chat you up.”
LJ chuckles. “Suitor? Are Vanessa and I in a Victorian era courtship?”
I place my hands in my lap, knowing LJ is two slimy sentences away from grasping my hand. “LJ, we’re not courting in any era.”
“Come on, Ness,” Hope says with a mischievous grin. “You two are adorable together. You’re like, picture-perfect couple goals.”
An air of surprise puffs out of me. “Hope, you’re the one who has an adoring boyfriend. LJ and I are not a couple.”
“Vanessa’s right,” LJ says, turning to my friends. “Despite all the social events and charity balls I’ve escorted her to, she’s hesitant to commit.”
My eyes go up and to the right, but I’m careful not to let them roll. I want to groan my exasperation, but only a faint whisper glides from my tight mouth.
Sylvie plucks her glass and lifts it to her neckline as a teasing smile graces her lips. “Maybe you’ll escort Vanessa to the upcoming gala we’re planning.”
LJ turns to me with an eager grin. “Color me intrigued. What’s the new cause?”
“Ness’s pet project,” Hope cuts in. “St. Mark’s Hospital in Logan’s Point.”
LJ settles into his seat, folding his arms across his middle. “Logan’s Point has become a new fascination. Seems everyone wants to buy up some part of that town.”
“I don’t want to buy the hospital,” I say dryly.
LJ smirks. “Of course not. You want to buy them a new X-ray machine or a batch of defibrillators?”
“They’re running on a shoestring budget,” I reply. “I think it’ll take more than one event to raise all the funds they need. For a start, they’re understaffed, so signing up volunteers is step one.”
Hope and Sylvie shift in their seats, averting their eyes so I don’t put extra pressure on them.
LJ turns toward me in his seat, hanging a crooked arm on the back of his chair. “So, you ladies would make up the candy striper initiative?”
Could he be any more condescending and sexist? I don’t give him the courtesy of eye contact when I reply, “They don’t have candy stripers at St. Mark’s.”
LJ sniggers. “Isn’t that why you want to sign-up volunteers?”
Instinctively, my hand presses on my chest, and my palm massages a burrowing ache. “What I’m doing at St. Mark’s means something. It’s not just a way to pass the time because I’m a girl.”
“Oh, Vanessa,” LJ says in a softer tone. In a sweeping movement, he takes my hand from my chest and envelopes it in his hands. “Of course it’s meaningful. Anything you do has merit.”
The girls awe at his gesture, yet my back seizes. I want to yank my hand from his grip. However, the unkind gesture would make it back to my mother. Even though she’s on another continent, she knows more about what’s happening in Victoria Falls than I do.
I clear my throat and send my hand limp inside his.
He releases me, and I take the opportunity to focus on the girls.
With my mother’s voice still in my head, I double-down on the volunteering.
As soon as Hope’s eyes meet mine, I strike.
“So, can I expect you to officially sign-up to volunteer your time at St. Mark’s? ”
Hope audibly gulps, and her complexion slightly pales. I hold her stare, forcing her answer, “Oh, yeah, sure. Of course.”
I smile and turn to Sylvie. “You too?”
Sylvie chokes on a mouthful of mineral water. She lowers the glass and clears her throat. With reddened cheeks, she coughs and nods. “Umm, yeah, totally.”
“I just have too much work at the moment,” Hope says, refolding her linen napkin on her lap. “You know, juggling school assignments and planning committee duties.”
“Oh yeah,” Sylvie is quick to pile on. “Me too. There’s just not enough hours in the day.”
Hope feigns laughter. “Yeah, you know what our mothers are like.”
Yeah, a cake walk compared to mine.
LJ leans close to me. I know he’ll reject the suggestion, but his smugness is irritating me.
“You know, it’s not just girls who can sign-up.”
LJ smirks, throwing a thumb at himself. “Are you suggesting I volunteer too? I can just imagine my father’s reaction. You know he wants me at the company as much as possible before I pack up for college.”
You mean my father’s company? The words want to fly out of my mouth, but what good would it do?
He stands, and my stomach squirms in anticipation of what’s about to happen.
“I have to get back to my table.” LJ lifts my hand and bends over to kiss it. “I’ll catch up with you later, sweetheart.”
My insides revolt at his touch, mocked by the squeals of delight from my friends.
Sylvie moans when LJ leaves. “Oh my gosh, I miss having a guy around.”
I grin at her. “You use guys as playthings. No wonder you can’t keep one around.”
“I used to call up Beau Stevenson to take me out,” Sylvie says with a devilish smirk. “Gosh, my parents absolutely hated that. Ah, I loved it. But, no. Now he has to be a doting boyfriend to his mousy girlfriend.”
Hope smirks, nudging me. “Even you had your eye on Beau for a moment or two.”
I tap the side of my water glass and sigh. “I’d like someone to look at me the way he looks at his girlfriend.”
Hope and Sylvie share a look and then burst into laughter.
Hope grabs my hand and locks eyes with me. “Ness, honey, every guy looks at you like that.”
I frown and pull my hand away. “No, they don’t. All they think about is my last name and dollar signs.”
“Oh, stop being so miserable,” Sylvie orders. “You’re gorgeous with or without the heiress title. You can have any guy you want. It’s beyond me why you haven’t made it happen yet.”
I shrug. “I haven’t met anyone I could see a future with.”
Hope splutters a laugh and motions at LJ’s table. “You have a real-life Prince Charming waiting to put a ring on your finger.”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, almost gagging on the thought. “There’s nothing charming about LJ’s game.”
“Just get over it,” Hope says. “I can already see the multi-page magazine spread about you and LJ, your fabulous life, and all your children.”
“Whoa.” I scoff. “How far into the future do you daydream?”
Hope snaps her fingers at me. “We can all see a future for you and LJ. Why can’t you?”
I sit back in my seat as our server asks for our meal orders.
Unfortunately, I’m not surprised by my friends’ attitudes.
Even when they have boyfriends of their own, they constantly remind me of their jealousy.
How they’d die for an LJ-type to vie for their attention.
They’re convinced I’m playing a big game, waiting for LJ to promise me more for our future.
I wish, just once, someone would believe I’m not interested in that future. I’ve seen where it leads. My parents rarely speak to each other, and when they do, it’s on a video call in the middle of the night that’s ninety percent arguments.
Halfway through dinner, the conversation leaves school gossip and returns to me.
Hope clears her throat, leaning in. “Is the reason you’re pushing LJ away because you’re still hung up on your tutor?”
I drop my fork, letting it clank against the china plate.
Sylvie giggles. “Look at her. Oh my gosh, Ness, you’re going red.”
From anger, not from embarrassment.
“Aww,” Hope coos. “She misses him.”
I pick up my fork, muttering, “Just drop it.”
“All I wanted to say,” Hope whispers, “is that I get why you’re standoffish. You’re hung up on a guy you can’t be with. Your mother didn’t approve, right?”
My back tightens, and I keep my focus on my dinner plate. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
A hush falls over the table, and the sound of chewing takes over the airspace.
Soon, Sylvie and Hope steer the conversation back to school gossip, but I’m checked out.
I don’t even remember where this silly rumor about me and my tutor started.
But compared to what really happened while I was in Switzerland, it’s better I don’t deny their speculation.