17. Ava Lennox
Ava Lennox
If there was one thing my mother feared more than being poor, it was looking poor.
Unfortunately for her, our family’s current bank account status meant she had to repeat outfits more than she liked.
My father, Kip Lennox, thought it was wise to become the face of the country's newest pharmaceutical company, which ended up facing more lawsuits and scandals than OxyContin.
Thousands of people were now walking around the United States looking toward the right and left at the same damn time.
The insurance company covered the majority of the suits and fines, but every other passive-income area my family was invested in took a hit.
Consumers no longer trusted anything tied to the Lennox name.
One minute I was ordering caviar just for photos, and the next I was making sure not to throw away the fries that normally settled at the bottom of the brown paper bag.
“Ava, sit up straight. And don’t you dare twist the cap off that apple juice. Pretend like it’s too hard to open,” my mother instructed.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
Faith Lennox hadn’t worked a day in her life.
Well, correction.
She had never been on a taxable payroll a day in her life.
Her job was finessing rich men out of their money, and she never took a day off. Not even in marriage. As profitable as my father was, she knew his investments would eventually be his downfall, so she always kept one money bag hidden in a vault.
Or two.
Or three.
Depending on the expenses for that season.
No woman in her right mind would fault my mother for maintaining financial security, but she could have done it more respectfully.
She could have easily picked up a trade, started her own business, or learned proper ways to invest the family’s money.
But no. She maintained her lifestyle on her back, and it didn’t matter whose husband or, sometimes, wife she had to sleep with.
If they were willing to spend, she was willing to bend.
“Your hair looks amazing today, Princess, and the sun is hitting your eyes perfectly,” she continued, taking another sip of her mimosa. “God gave it to you in all the right places, so use your resources.”
Sucking my teeth, I adjusted my posture, toyed with my hair, and blinked my eyes seductively.
Contrary to popular belief, I was nothing like my mother.
While she was comfortable placing her well-being in the hands of others, my goal was to make my own money through an upstanding career.
I wanted to be a chef. Cooking was everything to me.
It made me happy, and there was never a day I didn’t want to be standing over a hot stove testing and creating recipes.
Culinary was my major at the university, and my line was always full whenever we showcased dishes we'd created on the campus. When my parents spent vacations on yacht tours and jet skis, I spent the time learning from chefs and collecting cookbooks from around the world.
That’s why, when I was assigned to the bookstore to work off my stipend for the semester, there was no fuss from me. Having nearly one hundred cookbooks at my disposal every day, completely free, was a good time as far as I was concerned.
Of course, my mother didn’t support my career choice. If it didn’t consist of me being well-kept, snotty, and the center of attention, it wasn’t worth pursuing in her eyes.
The behaviors she bestowed upon me left me without any friends. Girls considered me intolerable because of my vanity, lack of compassion, and the hoe of a mother who, in their minds, taught me how to sleep with other people's men.
And who was I kidding? Most of it was true.
However, I had no one to show me a different way. No close cousins. No favorite aunt. Not even a sibling to pawn my mother off on so I could watch someone else suffer for a change.
I didn’t stand a chance fighting the inevitable, that is my mother and so, I went with the flow.
I was undeniably beautiful, good in bed, and put together perfectly enough to fool most people into thinking I had my life figured out. If those were the cards life dealt me, I might as well play the game.
For the last three months, every Saturday had been spent at the Havenbrook Country Club, throwing pussy at wealthy members like pennies into a water fountain and hoping one of them made a wish.
This Saturday was no different.
My trance was instantly broken as my mother excitedly tapped my shoulder over and over again, as if she'd just won a car on a game show.
“Ma!” I snapped, jerking my shoulder out of her reach.
“Ava, fix your face. You don’t want lines,” she said, standing and adjusting her dress.
“My horoscope told me today was my day and look.”
Slowly, she turned her head, pretending to adjust her hair behind her ear.
The shark had smelled blood.
Tiredly, I followed her stare and, low and behold, Axel and Echo Everette.
If you took perfection, chocolate, wealth, power, bourbon, and talent, mixed it all together and baked it, you'd get yourself an Everette man. All three Everette sons and they daddy were delicious. Echo was simply the most attainable because he was within arm’s reach.
His younger brothers—one in the NFL and the other in the NBA—were constantly on the road and rarely visited Havenbrook.
Desired perfection aside, the women of the Everette household were equally adored.
Olivia and Juliet—whom I couldn't stand walking around with her sign language and perfect grades—were considered two of Havenbrook’s gems. If word ever got out that my mother and I caused them any disturbance, we'd be ran out of town.
Sure, I had social pull among people my age but, the Everettes had legacy. Everyone in that household was a living legend and I am sure Juliet was well on her way.
“This is absolutely perfect, Princess. God sent one for each of us,” my mother whispered.
I immediately grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into her chair.
“Absolutely not,” I said quietly, forcing a smile as people walked by.
“Why not?” she questioned
“Echo is too old for me.”
“Age is a number, not a limitation.”
Not a single feature shifted on Faith’s face when I displayed my discomfort at approaching a man in Echo’s age group. There was no concern, no consideration, no change of heart. She just sat there looking like Lynn Whitfield in A Thin Line Between Love and Hate.
“And Axel is married.” I countered
“A full-course meal has never stopped a man from ordering a side dish.”
“Ma!”
Her palm smacked the table hard enough to make nearby patrons glance over.
Immediately, I lowered my voice.
“Look here, you little ingrate,” she began. “Do you know where I’d be right now if I didn’t have you? Hmm?”
Silence.
“In the lap of a millionaire.”
I clenched my jaw. She really thought her behaviors were discreet. There wasn’t an available millionaires lap she hadn’t sat on.
“But I slipped up and got pregnant with you. I wanted an abortion, but your grandmother saw that pregnancy as a certified meal ticket. So, I did the right thing. I married your imbecile of a father and kept your ass in Gucci and gold.”
Each word felt like a slap.
“This is the least you can do for me.”
“But Ma...” I said softly.
“But Ma, my fake ass,” she mocked. “You think I came this far to struggle? Hm? Hell no. Not for image, not for you, and damn sure not for love.”
She leaned forward, her eyes hard as stone.
“Now fix your fucking face, adjust your attitude, and help me secure the future.”
A slow smile crept across her lips.
“I know for a fact you've given that pussy away for less.”
I wanted to launch my apple juice at her head, but settled for an aggressive eye roll instead.
“Ma, you may not care about the rivalry you're going to create with Mrs. Everette, but I don't feel like dealing with Juliet.”
“Juliet?” she asked. “That's the daughter, right?”
“Yeah. We're not exactly friends.”
“Good. Then you don't have to live with the fact that you fucked your friend's brother. I mean, you'd eventually get over it, but it's best not to burn unnecessary bridges.”
She said that shit like it was wisdom passed down from the ancestors.
“Ma, please,” I groaned.
Before I could continue my plea, she cut me off with a wave of her hand.
“Focus on the bigger picture, Ava. That girl has been through enough, and I'm pretty sure she's not worried about who hops in and out of her brother's bed.”
My brows furrowed.
“What does that mean?”
“Oh, nothing.”
There it was.
The famous Oh, nothing.
The one she used whenever she realized she'd said too much and it was time to shut up.
Unfortunately for her, I'd spent my entire life studying her like a college course.
The second she got secretive, my curiosity doubled.
A waiter passed carrying a tray full of mimosas. Without hesitation, I plucked two from the tray and slid them in front of her.
One thing about Faith?
Liquor made all her lips loose.
Yeah, purposely getting my mother drunk so she'd gossip about a girl I disliked for no real reason was a little foul.
But again...
The inevitable.
Besides, if Faith wanted to spend her Saturdays treating the country club like a safari and wealthy men like endangered species, then the least she could do was provide entertainment.
She narrowed her eyes and I narrowed mine right back. The two of us stared at each other across the table like poker players waiting for someone to blink first. Then, without breaking eye contact, she grabbed one of the mimosas and took a long sip.
A slow smile spread across my face.
Hook, line, and sinker.
“Okay, so you know she really isn’t an Everette?”
“Who?!”
Man, a bitch turned into an owl real quick when some hot tea spilled.
“Juliet. I mean she is, but not biologically.”
My mouth fell open.
“So, Miss Olivia was creeping?” I whispered.
My mother barked out laughing.
“Oh God, no. Miss Oscar-winning Olivia is entirely too vanilla for some hot shit like that.”
“Okay, so I’m confused,” I said, motioning with my hands for her to hurry up and get to the mic drop.
Faith’s messy, drunk ass glanced around before continuing.
“Neither Olivia nor Axel is her parent.”
“Biiiiittttccchhhhh, you lying.”
The words slipped out before I remembered I was talking to my mother and not one of the university’s gossipers.
“Mm hm.” She nodded. “You see, Echo and Juliet’s real mother were friends in high school. Some poor chick named Shannon. Shannon was sleeping with one of the teachers so he could pay her tuition.”
I leaned forward. My eyes were so wide I could see my own future.
“Her little fast ass got pregnant and decided to keep the baby. Probably for a place to live,” she judged.
The nerve.
“Anyways,” she continued, completely unbothered by her own hypocrisy, “the teacher wasn’t going for it. He killed Shannon and left town.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” I gasped.
“Yes, girl,” she said, taking another sip of her mimosa. “And because she was Echo’s best friend, the Everettes raised that baby. God bless their hearts.”
She closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her chest like she was leading Sunday morning prayer.
This information was priceless.
Juliet Everette.
Miss Perfect.
Miss Everybody-Loves-Me-and-My-Family-Is-Better-Than-Yours.
Wasn't even an Everette.
I got word that her friend Yahya had been discussing my family's business, and I had every intention of popping her in the mouth.
Except Yahya would kill me.
But this?
This was gold.
“She’s an orphan who doesn’t even know,” I said, a smile spreading across my face.
My mother nearly spit out her drink.
“Ava,” she warned.
I ignored her.
“This is amazing.”
“Ava.”
“This shit is going to spread through campus like wildfire.”
“Ava Koi Lennox!”
The use of my full name finally got my attention.
My mother slowly slid her dark sunglasses over her eyes and stared at me.
“Shut your mouth.” She hissed.
“What?” I asked.
“I’ve had too many mimosas and I’m gossiping worse than Wendy Williams.”
“Who?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving me off. “Listen, and listen good. What I told you isn't a secret. But the secret died with Shannon. To people your age, it’s more of a folktale than anything else. Most of y'all have never even heard it.”
I blinked.
“A little affair scandal can be overlooked. Hell, it can even be monetized in this city. But if this story gets stirred back up, you won’t have to worry about being run out of town.”
The playful excitement I'd been feeling immediately cooled.
A strange chill crawled up my spine.
“You think they'd come after me?”
My mother adjusted her sunglasses.
“The Everettes don’t cover up problems.”
She took a slow sip of her mimosa.
“They get rid of them.”
The confidence in her voice made my stomach tighten.
“And you know what?” she continued. “I’m so glad I’m the responsible mother figure that I am.”
I frowned.
“This whole idea of you stepping to Echo and me stepping to Axel? Forget it. You may like to play roulette, but I’ll stick to checkers and jump to a different man.”
“Huh? But this was all your—”
Before I could finish, she snatched me right out of my chair.
“Now hike them titties up,” she ordered. “Ain’t that Mr. Clarke and his youngest boy?”
I followed her gaze.
Nazir and his scamming ass father seemed to just be getting out of their golf cart.
“Look at the watches they’re wearing,” she whispered.
Then, without a shred of shame, she waved.
“You-hoo!”
I stared at her.
My mother was hopeless.