Beauty Beneath the Sorrow (Tangerine Sky #3)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Lina

T he banging sound on my sister’s bedroom wall alerts me that she has a guy over again. When I let her move in with me three months ago for her first year at college, I didn’t imagine I’d get a front-row seat to her many sexual escapades.

“Zoe!” I pound on the door. “Tell Asher he’s got to go! You have class in the morning.”

I stay perched in the hallway with my luggage at my side, ensuring my little sister’s boy toy leaves. The door swings open, and I’m face to face with a guy who is not Asher, the one who’s been the most recent visitor to frequent our place the last few weeks.

“Who the fuck are you?” I ask him as he pulls his shirt down while swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Who the fuck is Asher ?” He tosses over his shoulder as he heads downstairs and out the door.

“Bye, Pete!” Zoe pops up a quick wave while leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom.

With a disapproving look, I shake my head at her.

“What?”

“You disgust me.” I wheel my suitcase into my room across the hall .

With only a bra and shorts on, she’s quick behind me. “What?”

“Another guy, Zoe?” I raise my upper lip.

She giggles. “Like you have any room to judge, big sister. ”

I sit on the edge of my bed and slide off both heels. Leaning over, I rub the bottom of my foot as it aches from being in it for the last three days.

“Look, I’m all about getting your rocks off with different guys, but before you start bringing them into my house, make sure you know them well first.”

She crosses her arms at her chest. “I usually try to send them away before you get home.”

“That doesn’t make it better!” I snap. “I don’t want random people in my house, especially when I’m away.”

“What’s the point in living with my— much older flight attendant sister if I can’t pretend this is my place when you’re gone?”

Becoming a flight attendant satisfies my need to continue to run from my problems, and the darkness that’s become a permanent passenger in my life—doesn’t seem to be enough anymore. I want more control. Now, I want to fly the fucking planes.

“What the hell, I’m only twenty-six! If you and your horny little eighteen-year-old body want to stay here, you need to remember the rules we discussed at the beginning of the school year.” I lift off the bed and head into the closet. “Now, if you need a refresher—”

“Save me the parent talk. I remember,” she interrupts as a palm flies into the air.

“Fabulous.” I peek my head out from around the wall with a wide smile. “So, how was it?”

“Meh.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Pete has been sitting next to me in Philosophy all semester and has been so obvious about jumping my bones—”

My eyebrows pitch together. “Wouldn’t it be you jumpin g hi s bones?”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He wanted to get it for like forever,” she continues. “And he’s super cute, so we made a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yeah. If he writes my papers this year, I will sleep with him after each one,” Zoe tells me as if it’s a typical business transaction.

“Your dad will be so proud you’re taking your business and marketing skills and applying them to real life.” I smirk.

What my sister is doing would give most people a little bit of ick, but I’ve got to hand it to her—it’s a brilliant idea. In college, I made exchanges like this, mostly for math tutoring—and mine wasn’t as organized as hers seems to be. I’ve always been terrible with math.

“I have two friends that want in on it as well.” She plops herself down on my bed. “They even offered to pay me to help them connect with guys who will do it. I figured it can work for other girls too.”

I lean back with my hands behind me. “Wow. Impressive Zoe. Before long, you’ll be running your own Risky Business .” I giggle at myself.

“I don’t get it,” she says with a confused expression on her face.

“The movie?” Silence. “From the 80s?” She stares blankly at me. “Never mind.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

I make a mental note to introduce Zoe to that movie at some point or another. On second thought, she might get too many ideas. “So, what if you don’t get a good grade on the paper?”

“The muffin factory is only open once the paper has been graded,” she says with a mischievous smile.

“Okay, that’s good. At least you know you’re not doing it for nothing.”

My phone starts to vibrate on my bed.

Zoe leans over to see who it is. “Ugh, it’s our mother. ”

“You get it,” I tell her, unlatching my bra.

“She called you.” She pops up off the bed and walks out of my room. “Plus, I have a lot of homework to do.”

“How convenient,” I quip right as she closes her bedroom door.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Are you coming to my cocktail party tonight?” she asks without greeting me.

“I just came home from flying the last few days.”

“So, you’re not coming?” she snaps impatiently.

“I don’t think so.”

Her dramatic sigh over the phone can be heard a state over. “Why am I not surprised?”

I hate when she pressures me into these things. She knows I’m not into them and that I hate going. “I’m not up for hanging out with fake rich snobs tonight.”

“That’s not kind, Lina. These people are like us. Everyone has to start somewhere,” she corrects condescendingly.

My mother is the type of woman who will —growing up poor. But in that same conversation, she brags about how much money she has now. She has no problem showing off her house to everyone she can or taking a different designer bag everywhere she goes. Most of the time, you can’t even have a conversation without her dropping the word “expensive” at any time. She’s an entitled, borderline textbook narcissist.

“That’s fine. Still not going,” I repeat.

“Are you serious?” She says in a clipped tone.

I squat to the floor to start unpacking my suitcase. “Yes, it’s not a big deal. I don’t want to be there.”

“It is a big deal regarding my— our image,” she huffs.

I roll my eyes and quietly shut my door so my little sister doesn’t have to hear this conversation. If there’s one thing in this life that I will never do, it’s be like my mother. A superficial person who only cares about herself. “Did you invite Zoe?”

“No, she’s unpredictable. She also can’t even drink. How is she supposed to come to a cocktail party? And she doesn’t even live here anymore.”

“I guess that’s beside the point.” I don’t even try to hide the annoyance in my voice. My mom is so tightly wrapped up in her little world that she rarely asks about my sister. If she does, it’s mostly around other people or in a moment where maybe she feels like she should. “ Anyway, she got her midterm grades in last week.”

“Oh, that’s great. I can’t believe it’s October already.” Her distant voice tells me she’s already lost interest.

“Aren’t you going to ask how she did?”

My mother lets out an audible sigh. “How did she do?”

“She got all As, except not all were earned. She’s using sex as an exchange for smart guys to write her papers for her,” I say without a thought.

Silence.

“Well, I’ve tried to talk with her. She’s exactly like you, Lina.” Her callous comment comes from her lack of knowledge about why I am the way I am.

That one night in high school, the night that gave me a picture of what guys wanted from girls like me—ones who blossomed quicker than the others. It’s terrifying how one single event rewired my young teenage mind. Now, as a woman, I still live with the darkness from that night, even ten years later.

Blacking out for a brief moment as I’m flooded with the same terror and anger from that night, I barely hear my mom continue speaking.

“I’m sure you’ll have a better time getting through to her.” I realize quickly what she’s implying. She’s pushing her responsibilities on me. Our mother would rather me, as her oldest daughter, take care of her youngest. Zoe doesn’t fit into her daily affirmations of being entitled and better than others. It’s easier to push non-priorities away.

“I told her it was fine as long as she passes and gets her degree.”

“That’s probably what I would have said,” she rushes out. “Now, I think you need to reconsider. I’ve already committed on your behalf.”

“Committed to who? It’s your and Elijah’s cocktail party.”

“It’s been two years, and I wish you’d try to give him a chance,” she says. Now, her voice is back to a regular tone because we’ve shifted the conversation back to her.

I flip my hair to the side, exasperated with this conversation. The last thing I want to do when I’m mentally drained is to hang out with another one of my mom’s boyfriends. “Because Mom, it’s still weird, and I know it’s weird for Zoe too.”

“How is it not weird for your father to date younger women, but I can’t be with older men?” she counters.

My mother and father had me at the beautifully young age of sixteen. I was a complete surprise—obviously. They were together for some time. After high school graduation, my dad went into the Navy, and my now-very wealthy mother, with her newly rich and selfish parents, gained full custody of me. My dad was left in the dust, unable to reach his only daughter. It took until I became an adult for us to reconnect again. It’s still a touchy subject, but we’re finally working on mending our broken relationship. As an adult, I hope to create something new out of it.

“I’m not going to talk to you about Dad,” I dismiss.

“Fine, fair enough. You do whatever you want with that relationship. Remember when you got all chummy with your dad, I had to raise you alone,” she so graciously reminds me.

She will claim to anyone who will listen that she had some rags to riches working hard for her money as a single parent tagline, but the reality is, she had a ton of support. My childhood was spent at my grandparents’ house with two full-time nannies and without a care in the world. My mom married a wealthy man the first chance she got—which eventually led to my lovely sister Zoe.

But she still spouts off that she did it all alone .

I’ve never liked that side of her. It’s fake and disrespectful to true struggling single mothers. It makes me sick to think about it.

“Anyway, I’m not going,” I say more directly this time. “Have a good night.”

“Fine. I’ll have to tell Elijah that you won’t be making it again,” she complains like I have two shits to give about what he or what my mother thinks. Her frustration is about how it will look to other people.

“Oh, Mom, be careful. His sixty-five-year-old heart might not be able to take that type of unfortunate news,” I respond, stifling the laughter at my joke.

“Lina!”

I briefly take the phone away from my face to laugh. “Sorry, that was mean.”

“Goodbye,” she huffs.

I plug my phone into the charger and head downstairs into the living room. Zoe sits on the couch with her legs tucked under her and a math book on her lap.

“Ugh, god. I hate math.” I grimace, plopping into the oversized chair next to her. “Seeing you do your homework is like reliving horrible college memories all over again.”

She stretches her arms above her head like she’s been sitting awhile. “How’s mom?”

“In rare form, like always.”

“She can be such a pain in the ass. Thank god you let me live with you. My dad refused to let me live in the dorms where guys”—she holds up her fingers in quotations—“ run wild through the hallways. ”

My eyebrows raise. “Little does he know, guys seem to run wild through our hallways too.”

“Right!” She belly laughs.

“Are you going to Seattle to visit him this summer?” I ask, folding my legs underneath me.

“I think so. Unless you’ll miss me too much.”

“Please.” I wave a hand in the air. “I have enough fun with my own sexual liaisons. It will give me a nice, needed break from yours.”

“That’s true!” she exclaims, then refocuses on her homework.

I grab the remote control to turn on the TV. “What are we doing for dinner?”

“You’re not cooking?” she remarks without looking up from her notebook.

I cock my head to the side before clicking on the movie Cruel Intentions. “Funny.”

***

I arrive at The Poppy restaurant for great food, cocktails, and a lively atmosphere. It’s our typical girls’ night location. The crisp October evening wind dances across my bare shoulders as I approach the entrance. I’m meeting with my three best friends and fellow flight attendants, Bailey, Avery, and Piper—well, not for long. This will be our last time together until Piper moves to Northern California next week with her boyfriend—wait, husband, Jack.

Squeezing past the thick crowds of people standing around the bar, I quickly wave to Bailey’s brother, Harry, and her boyfriend, Mason. They opened this restaurant together last year and are dressed in their typical white collared shirts and black ties. Harry sends me a quick wave while Mason tips his head, gesturing toward the patio.

I head to our favorite spot in the corner, under the twinkling lights and heat lamps. Glancing at the loves of my life, I smile at how adorable they all look tonight.

“Hello, babes!” I coo, walking up to the table. We give each other quick hugs and sassy greetings before I sit next to Piper.

“I can’t believe you’re moving, my Piper Moon.” I frown.

Bailey reaches across the table to grab Piper’s hand. “Where is Jack tonight? He hasn’t let you get more than a few feet from him since he flew out here last week.”

“I know. We’re completely obsessed with each other.” Piper’s cheeks redden. “In a healthy way, of course.”

Piper married Jack in Las Vegas the first night she met him— yes, the first night she met him. They spent almost two months in a tricky predicament but ended up falling in love—unconventional and crazy, but we love her for it.

“We’re going to miss you so much,” Avery adds, leaning on Piper’s shoulder.

“Speaking of love,” I say, turning to Bailey. “How’s your obsessed fuck buddy?”

Last year, Bailey thought it would be a good idea to establish a benefits-type relationship with her brother’s best friend, who happened to have been the man she’s despised since college and is also part owner of this beautiful restaurant with her brother.

“Funny.” She tosses rolled-up napkins at me. “Mason is fine.”

“I saw him and your brother on the way in, both looking like delicious snacks, I might add.”

“Hell yes, to Mason.” She grimaces. “Eww, to my brother. ”

“Just facts, B,” I say, flipping my hair back.

“Okay, Lina. We know you’re trying to make small talk with us so you don’t have to talk about yourself,” Avery says.

Avery is the quieter one out of us. She’s dating a dentist who lacks any type of personality.

“What? I see you guys every week when we work. Nothing is new. Zoe is fine, my mom is a pretentious bitch, and my dad is a forty-year-old man whore who’s now trying to make up for twenty-six years of not being in my life—so that’s what I have going for me at the moment.” I take a breath and sip some water. “I had to chase another guy from Zoe’s room when I got home from my trip yesterday,” I add, my eyes bouncing around the table. “And why do we not have martinis yet?”

Bailey laughs, and Piper giggles under her breath.

“Usually, your brother brings our drinks, B. What the hell?” Avery comments.

“They all know what we drink. I’m sure they’ll be over shortly.” As soon as Bailey says those words, four martinis are placed on the table in front of us.

“Cheers to us all looking adorable on this fine evening.” Avery lifts her glass. The rest of us follow.