Chapter Eleven
Grace
Why, oh why, does Andreas hate me?
I try not to show how I really feel as I push my seafood pasta around on the plate. It’s probably poisoned. Not because Karie’s cook is a terrible human being, but because Karie is.
She loves to serve food like she’s the one who labored in the kitchen, putting on a red and white apron with a big embroidered apple and holding a wooden spoon with some sauce smeared on it. But if you look closer, the dress on her gym-toned body is a brand-new Dior, her nails long and flawless, her makeup perfect. And no one has to look closely to see the bleached hair pulled up in a French twist and secured with a couple of pearl pins, or the fact that too many diamonds glitter on her ears and around her throat. Or listen that carefully to hear her sky-high stilettos clack on the marble floor. She’s the picture of a woman who doesn’t look like she spent more than a minute instructing her staff.
Nelson is sitting at the head of the needlessly large table in his ostentatious dining room in his pretentious mansion. He borrowed more money than he should have to purchase the place, most likely to alleviate a feeling of inferiority to his more successful brother. His wide-set brown eyes are narrowed, bringing out his crow’s-feet. His prominent nose got the height his cheekbones didn’t. The wide, square jaw line gives his otherwise slightly above-average features an impression of strength, which he uses to his advantage to soothe clients. He aims for dignified by refusing to smile, but merely ends up looking displeased. It doesn’t help that his hairline has receded enough to make him appear about ten years older than he is.
I thank my lucky stars every day that I look nothing like him.
Mick sits to Nelson’s left, a carbon copy of his father sans the hairline. He desperately wanted to go to Harvard Law, but failed. Twice . Once, when drunk, he cried about how unfair it was that he was “forced to settle” for Wake Forest because the Harvard Law admissions office was blind to his brilliance. From the way he went on, you’d think he’d been the victim of some unimaginable crime against humanity. But he’s a DA in Los Angeles now, doing fine. It’s more than he deserves.
Viv is seated next to Karie. They’re so much alike—outwardly and inwardly—cold hypocrites, full of themselves.
Currently the four are talking to one another, sharing what happened during their week, how they’re doing, gossiping about people they know. They make sure to bring up only people I don’t know—God forbid I join the conversation. The only reason they invite me at all is because Andreas insisted that we have at least one bimonthly family meal together. He thinks it’ll help me and the rest of Nelson’s family “bond.” Apparently he’s under the illusion that the reason I’m like oil to their water is that we haven’t spent enough time getting to know each other.
Karie likely hasn’t disabused him of the notion, since he isn’t just the head of the family, but controls Nelson’s legal career. She’s desperately hoping that Mick can join the firm once his stint at the district attorney’s office is over. The fact that her nephew Alaric is killing it at Huxley & Webber drives her crazy because she hates Nelson’s brother and his wife.
My phone buzzes. I check the message.
–Peter: Are you serious about the bill?
Guess he finally got the invoice for the bed and sheets I sent him. I emailed it to him initially, but it bounced because he blocked me. So I mailed it to his old address, since the post office is likely forwarding him his mail.
–Me: Yes. Why would you think I wasn’t?
–Peter: I’m sleeping in the office because of you!
Oh, really? Let me shed some tears.
–Me: Gosh. If only you’d keep your dick in your pants…
–Peter: Why do you have be so difficult, Grace?
–Me: Good question! Upon reflection, it’s probably because an asshole ex-boyfriend cheated on me and humiliated me in front of his colleagues at a promotion party I wasn’t invited to.
–Peter: It was an honest mistake. Kacey fucked up. I already spoke to her about that.
That poor assistant.
–Me: Uh-huh. Did she also shove your dick into my sister’s vagina?
–Peter: You’re being unreasonable.
–Me: At least you aren’t paying rent. Why don’t you move in with your NEW girlfriend?
–Peter: It isn’t that simple. Viv isn’t that kind of girl.
–Me: What kind? The kind who’d let you move in with her? The kind you cheat on? Or the kind you bang to further your career?
–Peter: She’s Nelson’s real daughter!
If he meant to wound me with that, it doesn’t work. I’ve never considered myself Nelson’s true child.
–Me: So it’s the career thing.
“Grace, it’s rude to stare at your phone at the dinner table. Didn’t you mother teach you any better?” Karie says.
I do my best not to clench my jaw. Karie never brings up my mom, not even asking how she’s doing at Johns Hopkins, except to criticize. In a way I understand how bitter she must feel about the fact that my mom is “the other woman.” But Karie never directs her ire at Nelson because she understands who has the power.
“Leave her alone. Who cares if she knows how to behave?” Viv says, obviously upset the focus of the conversation has shifted away from her. “I’m the one marrying the Huxley, anyway.”
That name. Memories of my one-night stand come flowing back. My cheeks warm at what we did, and it’s suddenly difficult not to squirm in my seat. Huxley. I wish I could see him again, but he’s probably back to wherever he was from. I went by the hotel, but the front desk said the residence was unoccupied but not available for lease. The clerk, who had TRAINEE printed under her name, was reluctant to share any more information. It probably didn’t help that I don’t look like someone who can afford to live there.
“He’s sooooooo hot,” Viv says dreamily, practically fanning herself. “Like a god or something. I’m so happy he’s going to be mine. Just think— Mrs. Huxley… ”
I roll my eyes. It’s going to be an arranged marriage . Hardly a river of romance. And how pathetic is it that Andreas feels the need to help her find a husband because he doesn’t trust her to do it on her own?
I navigate to the Huxley & Webber site and look at the lawyers. There are three possible options for Viv: Ares, Josh and Bryce. Which one is she thinking about? And what has he done to deserve a fate worse than death? Lose an important case, maybe?
“I get shivery every time he looks at me,” Viv says, still gushing.
Karie gazes at her fondly.
I can’t stand it anymore. “What about Peter?”
It jerks her out of her reverie, which is perversely satisfying. “What about him?” It’s practically a snarl.
“I caught you in bed with him last month. You guys might’ve spent more time together since then.”
“Are you judging me?” Viv looks me up and down. “It isn’t like I’m married . I just wanted to take him out for a spin.”
I flutter my eyelashes. “You mean you just wanted him because you were jealous he was with me.”
She flinches a little before snorting. “Why would I be jealous of you ?”
“I don’t know… Oh, wait!” I snap my fingers. “Remember that perfect LSAT?”
Viv turns bright red. Karie inhales sharply, while Nelson scowls. Mick trains his half-crazed eyes on me. “Watch what you say to my sister. I won’t tolerate your bullying her.”
I wish Andreas could see this for himself—no matter how many meals he forces on me and Nelson’s family, we will never be a true family. “Stating a fact isn’t bullying.”
“It depends on intent,” he says, his tone sharp with anger. But he won’t do more than talk, not with the staff around.
“Oh look.” I point my fork at the window. “There are clouds in the sky.”
“So?”
“What will the poor sky do, now that I’m bullying it?”
“You little bitch!” Mick slaps the table hard enough to make the silverware rattle.
“Mick.” Karie cuts her eyes to the server who’s coming over to refill our water.
He lets out a breath, all the while staring death lasers at me. Well, whatever. He made it clear a long time ago that he’d always hate me because of my mom. I’m not going to waste energy trying to earn his love and approval.
Karie turns to Nelson. “Viv needs a new car for law school. Something that will help her fit in better. How about a Lexus?”
“I prefer a Maybach,” Nelson says.
I’d prefer to leave and never come back, I think.
And then, like some divine intervention, the sky splits open and rain starts to fall. Nelson sighs—inclement weather supposedly aggravates his back pain. But big grins split Karie, Mick and Viv’s faces. They’re thrilled I’ll be driving in the rain. They probably hope I’ll get into an accident—maybe even die.
“Well—fun as this hasn’t been—I should get going before the rain gets worse.”
Nobody objects as I place my napkin on the table and get up. My sneakers squeak a little as I make a rapid escape from the miasma of elite pretension.
Outside the house the air is wet and oppressive, but I still take a deep breath of it. Thank God, freedom!
I head to my car and get in. The traffic’s going to be terrible, and I’ll spend hours sitting in it, but I don’t care. My car has comfortable seats and music. Most importantly, it doesn’t have Nelson and company.
The engine starts with its usual reliable growl and Garbage sing, “Tell Me Where It Hurts” from the speakers. My phone rings. No caller ID, but it could be somebody from the hospital. Dr. Blum’s staff has called from unknown numbers before.
Hope flutters in my heart, tentative yet excited. Dr. Blum’s email this week was so positive.
“Hello?” I say, trying to sound calm.
“Hi,” a deep male voice says. “A couple of years ago I gave you a ride in the rain. I’m calling about the compensation you promised to me.”
Everything inside me immediately deflates, then almost instantly swells back up in rage. “What the hell kind of scam is this?” Cursing under my breath, I pull the phone from my ear, about to hang up—
“I drove a young woman to the ER on a rainy evening. She promised to pay, but didn’t have enough cash and left me this number.”
Holy… I remember! “Which hospital was this?” I ask, just to be sure.
“Ronald Reagan Medical Center. The woman had dark hair and was soaking wet. Got rainwater all over my car seat.”
My hand flies to my cheek. “Oh my God!”
“Do I have the right number?” A tinge of impatience roughens the voice.
“No, no! I mean, yes. Yes, you have the right number. I thought you’d lost it because you never called. But I’m glad we could finally connect.” I smile, happy to be dealing with the kind stranger from before. People like him are the reason I believe the world is a great place and am hopeful about the future, no matter how hard my life feels at the moment. “How much do I owe you? I can Venmo you right now.”
“Don’t worry about the cash. Would it be possible for us to meet? Just for a coffee or something.”
“Uh… I guess. Why?”
“I have a proposal for you.”