2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Echo
A part of me wanted to walk up to Dallas Drake and tell him to take his job and shove it up his son's ass.
Full disclosure: this was all inner dialogue. The truth was that I didn't talk much, and when I did, I was polite. I didn't swear. I didn't make a fuss. I didn't make a scene. I went along to get along. Yeah, a spine of steel is what I had! Not .
Dallas had always been kind to me and believed in me. It wasn't his fault that his kids were assholes, as was his wife. Sierra Drake never liked me and constantly told me I wasn't good enough to be around her children.
However, my aunt worked on their family estate and lived in a small house that had been converted from slave quarters to servant quarters. After my mother died, I moved in with Aunt Fern, and since her husband thought I was special, Sierra tolerated my presence. Unfortunately, my aunt was no better. She was stuck up, always telling me how I should behave, constantly reminding me that I came from trash; her sister, the crack whore.
Aunt Fern was a special kind of mean. She made my childhood miserable. As soon as I turned eighteen, I was out of her life and her home.
I made that happen by studying hard and earning scholarships for university.
It had helped that I went to a good school, and the only reason I'd been able to do that was because of where my aunt lived. Lani was my age, and we became friends of sorts. I had no illusions about how Lani treated me or what she thought of me—a mix of someone to boss around and a parasite. But her family had been good to me, and I felt indebted to the Drakes. I paid my dues by accepting their treatment. I also knew Lani better than anyone else and kept hoping that the good person she used to be as a kid would one day reemerge.
The truth was that my life was intertwined with the Drakes in so many ways.
Dallas was kind. He encouraged me to go after my dreams. He didn't see me as the half-black kid who didn't know who her father was or whose mother had died of an overdose; he saw me .
We both were interested in genetics and how to use gene therapy to cure cancer. So, when I got my PhD from the University of Tennessee, he invited me to work in a cancer lab in his company for my post-doctoral research. Since I already had several peer-reviewed and published papers to my credit, I was widely respected in the lab even though I was one of the youngest team members. I was paid well, and thanks to that, I'd bought my first home—a small cottage in midtown and a brand-new car. After driving rust buckets that I could barely afford, being able to purchase something I loved to drive was a reward, and how I showed myself that I'd made my life better.
But no matter what I did, the Drakes still saw me as a hanger-on; case and point was my missing watch. I wrapped my hand around my empty wrist and gently massaged it as I walked into the lab the Monday after Remi had been an ass to me.
He'd texted and called me over the weekend. I'd deleted every message and voicemail without reading or listening. Finally, I just blocked him.
How dare he?
Dallas had honored me by giving me his watch and—one he received from his mentor. Remi had reduced it to…God, I couldn't even repeat what he'd said in my head.
How could he think something so vile? How could he accuse me of having sex with a man I thought of as a surrogate father? A man I wished was my father. If Dallas knew what Remi said to me, he'd be hurt and enraged. I didn't want to cause problems between them.
I vowed to steer clear of Lani and her crowd. In school, I didn't have a choice. My aunt worked for the Drakes, and Dallas urged Lani to take me under her wing. I wish he hadn't bothered. Until the last two years of high school, Lani had been nice and kind, but then she started hanging out with Marina Sims, and everything changed. She became a mean girl. I knew they called me the DUFF, and even now, that high school stigma stayed with me. My high school classmates still called me Poopy Pants—a name Marina gave me because I used to eat energy bars high in fiber. I ate those because I couldn't afford proper food. It was a way to avoid fast food, which made me overweight, but it was all I could afford since Aunt Fern wasn't parting with her money for me.
Once I left high school, it got better. I had a full scholarship at Vanderbilt with a meal plan. I also had access to a gym. I started to take care of myself. Granted, I was never going to be beautiful like Marina and Lani and those other girls, but I thought I was presentable. I was now a size eight instead of a fourteen. Big achievement for me!
I dressed well and with comfort in mind. I was never going to wear a mini dress that I would need to squeeze myself into. Besides the fact that I'd look like a stuffed sausage, it would be uncomfortable.
The sad thing was that despite being a successful scientist at a top biotech company when I hung out with Lani and her group, I felt like a failure, like the loser teenager I used to be.
I needed to get my life in order, and that meant avoiding Lani and her lame-assed friends. More importantly, I needed to get over my crush on Remi because, let's face it, I accepted Lani's invitations for a chance to see him.
God, I was so pathetic!
Remi was the quintessential playboy—always had been. But the worst blow had been when he started dating Marina a few months ago. He was dating my tormentor. Now, to get a glimpse of him, I had to see her as well. And adding insult to injury was Remi accusing me of having sex with his father. Could my life get any sadder?
"How was your weekend, Echo?" Dr. Martin Andersen, the head of my lab and my boss, asked as I set my backpack down in my small office.
The lab was a vast, open space filled with state-of-the-art equipment and workstations, each meticulously organized with beakers, pipettes, and centrifuges humming softly. Surrounding the lab on three sides were sleek offices and glass-walled meeting rooms, where scientists and researchers could be seen in deep discussion or poring over data on their computer screens. The fourth side of the lab boasted large, floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the Mississippi River—its waters reflecting the golden hues of the sun and casting a warm, natural light across the pristine, sterile environment.
Dr. Andersen had taken over as head of the lab six months ago. I liked him. He was smart, and it didn't hurt that he was very handsome.
"It was good, Martin. How about you?"
He leaned against my office doorway. "I broke up with my girlfriend, so not great."
"I'm sorry," I paused and cocked an eyebrow. "Am I sorry?"
He laughed. "No, you're not sorry. It was for the best."
"How long were you together?" I knew he was engaged to a Memphis blue blood. I'd met her once at a company event and only knew of her through Martin.
"Since before I moved to Memphis; nearly a year and a half," he remarked. "We only started living together a few months ago."
In the past, I wouldn't have encouraged a conversation about personal matters. As a child, I avoided inviting friends to the trailer where my mother was probably strung out. Later, living with Aunt Fern, I was told I couldn't have anyone over. But now, I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted—and Martin and I had become friends as well as colleagues.
"How bad are you feeling?" I asked. "Heartbroken or ego bruised?
He sat down on a chair across from me and chuckled. "A little of both, I think. She fell in love with someone else."
"Oh God!" I was appalled. Why would any woman not want this man? He was handsome as sin. Smart as Einstein.
"Yeah." He sighed. "It hurts; but I was kinda expecting it."
"How come?"
"The signs were there, you know? She was honest about it, moved out, handed me the keys and an apology. It was all very civilized. Says a lot about our relationship."
"What does it say?" I mused.
He smiled sadly. "That it lacked passion. It should hurt a hell of a lot more, but it doesn't. I'm sad, yes. I'll miss her, but I also know I'll be fine without her."
"Then maybe it's a good thing it's over?"
He chuckled. "Yeah. Since we moved in, we stopped making time for us. We've both been so busy with work, especially Becky, who fell in love with a colleague."
"What does Becky do?"
He raised both eyebrows as if surprised that I didn't know. "She's a Hamilton."
"Okay." I had no idea what that meant.
"Hamilton Stores?"
"Oh," I exclaimed. They owned grocery chains across the South.
"She's Hamilton's Chief Operating Officer. She works for her father."
I whistled. "You were like a power couple."
He sighed. "Yeah, the couple that didn't have the power to make date night happen. How about you, Echo? You seeing someone?"
I was not. In fact, I'd never dated. Not even in university. I was too busy trying to get out of the trailer park, which meant I studied and worked hard. I had had sex, of course. I was twenty-five, not eighteen. But it was nothing to write home about. The first guy didn't even get all the way in, so that was a bust. The second guy did and hurt me. There was blood, and he freaked out. The third guy was a pump and dump who had the temerity to ask, "Was it good for you, babe?"
There hadn't been a fourth. I didn't have the time, energy, or inclination to get laid when it seemed like either the men I hooked up with were douchebags, or there was something wrong with me, or the world was lying its ass off when people waxed poetic about sex.
But if I was really honest, which I tried not to be because it hurt so much. I was hung up on Remi Drake. The same guy who thought I was balling his father. Bless his crazy heart!
"No. Life's too busy right now," I demurred.
He nodded and then rose. "Well, I'll leave you to it."
He was nearly out the door when I decided to throw caution to the winds. "Martin, if you ever want to talk, let me know. We can go out for a drink."
Where had that come from? I wasn't the kind of woman who asked a man out. I was the one who turned a horrible shade of pale when someone asked me out.
"Ah, I—"
"As friends," I blurted out. I really didn't need him to get the wrong idea. I was already neck-deep in wrong ideas when it came to the men I worked with and for.
He cheered up at that, and I felt mildly insulted. Was I such horrible girlfriend material? Probably. Becky had been blonde, slender, and sophisticated. I was dark, curvy, and a complete nerd.
"Thanks, Echo."
My day didn't get any better. Some gene synthesis materials I was waiting for were delayed, which meant I had to scrap two of my experiments and start all over again.
To make matters worse, Aunt Fern called, which was never pleasant. She guilt-tripped me for buying a BMW and not sending her money. It worked. I felt guilty. I wired her a couple of thousand dollars. She'd retired and now lived in an elder-care facility where she had her own apartment. She hadn't made many friends and complained about how lonely she was. No way was Aunt Fern coming and living with me—because I wasn't ever going to feel that guilty.
And then my day went from worse to shit.
Remi Drake came looking for me. Martin caught him as soon as he entered the lab. Everyone knew who Remi was—the personable and attractive son of the CEO. Whenever he came for corporate events, he charmed the panties off of women and made men feel comfortable. That was his gift. He got along well with everyone. Not like me. I put my head down and hoped for the best by being silent and aloof.
Remi got friendly.
Just not with you, Echo.
"You want to see Dr. Devlin?" Martin asked Remi twice.
"Yeah," Remi said for the second time, still cocky and with no sign of discomfort at my boss openly wondering what the hell Remi needed to talk to me about.
"I just need to drop somethin' off for my sister," he lied with panache.
Martin frowned and then eased. "Ah, yes, Lani and Echo were in high school together."
"Yeah," Remi said as patiently as he could while he gritted his teeth.
I didn't lift a finger to help him. I pretended like I was so busy working through the clinical study data on my computer that I had no idea who walked into the lab.
"Great. Yeah. Great. Well, you know where she is."
"Thanks. See you around, Dr. Andersen."
Remi came into my office and closed the door behind him like he owned the fucking world. No, "Hello, hey, are you busy?" or "May I disturb you?" No, Remi just barged in. Now, every member of my team at the lab was going to wonder what the boss' son wanted with me.
He put the Rolex watch on my desk in front of him and sat down across from me. "Poopy," he paused and fumbled, "Echo."
He almost called me by that hideous high school nickname. I hated it and wondered if he was trying to piss me off like Tommy and some of the others did. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he affected me, I smiled wide .
"Remi."
"I've been tryin' to get a hold of you all weekend."
"I know. It got pretty annoyin', so I blocked your number," I replied with a broad smile. I wasn't the kind of person that sassed others, but right now, I was feeling peevish.
"What the hell was that, giving me the fuckin' watch?"
I swiveled on my office chair. "You seemed pretty upset, calling me a whore and your father an adulterer. I thought it best for you to talk to your father and clear things up." I dare you, asshole.
"Give me a straight answer, Poopy. Are you fuckin' my father?"
The pain that ripped through the inside of my body almost felled me. I shut my eyes. He didn't need to know how much that hurt. Dallas was the one person in the world who thought I was better than trailer trash.
It took effort to control the bile rising inside me because I desperately wanted to throw up my lunch, which had been a measly salad. Fat Poopy Pants Echo was always on a diet.
I opened my eyes and looked at him sternly. "No, Remi. I'm not fuckin' your father."
He nodded. "Well, let's keep it that way. Alright?"
I swallowed. A part of me wanted to stand up and kick him out. But that wasn't who I was. My inner bitch was all piss and vinegar, but I wasn't the confrontational type in the real world. I spent my life hiding, blending into backgrounds. I didn't have the balls to take on someone like Remi.
"Is there anything else?" I started to tap on my keyboard, telling him this conversation was over.
He didn't move.
I didn't look at him either. "If you don't mind, I have a meeting with our China office in thirty minutes that I need to get ready for."
He huffed out of my office.
Once I knew he was gone. I closed the door and sank to the floor, leaning against it. I took deep breaths, trying to prevent the panic attack before it came. I'd always suffered from anxiety—but then show me one person who grew up poor who wasn't anxious about everything. Everything was a battle from Will I have food to Will I be safe . Survival was based on how tough you were, how good you were at taking care of yourself, and how smart you were at dodging the bad.
The panic attacks became substantial when I was living with Aunt Fern. She hadn't been more physically abusive than Mama—and honestly, I didn't care about getting beaten or slapped around—all that came with the territory. Aunt Fern was cruel, and she said things that cut me to the bone. She constantly reminded me that I was a whore's daughter just like Remi's mama; certain that I'd end up like my mother.
She accused me of flirting with a man, boy, or male child if I so as much as talked to the opposite sex.
I came to stay with Aunt Fern when I was eleven and left when I was eighteen. Those were the seven longest years of my life—and considering I grew up with a junkie mother, that was saying something.
Once I finished high school, I hadn't been able to get the hell out fast enough.
Dallas Drake had helped me. He'd written one of my recommendation letters. He'd given me an internship at his company, GeneVerse Biotech. He had kept in touch with me at Vanderbilt, and when he'd seen me speak at a conference, he'd told me that there would be a job waiting for me at GeneVerse.
He'd even come for my PhD defense—and that was when he'd given me the watch. I'd been so proud of it. It was the first present I had ever received—no one had ever given me anything for nothing. Sure, the Drakes handed out random stocking stuffers during Christmas, usually a box of chocolates that Aunt Fern didn't let me eat because I was already fat. You try being thin when you were subsisting on barely any money, and your only recourse from hunger was KFC! Those chicken nuggets had gotten me through so much, yet if I never ate them again, it would be too soon.
Remi reducing that one gift to a payment for sexual services was horrifying. I felt small and beaten, and so I sat, hugging my knees, hoping for the storm to pass so I could stand up on steady legs and fight to survive again.