But, truth? I almost see a freedom in having less.
In living within whatever means I can manage for myself. But every which way I turn, I feel my mother’s pull. I look in the mirror and I see a weak-willed woman staring back. So every day I can achieve just a little bit, make something of a name for myself with Lucielle Gladstone, is a day I’m moving toward my own independence.
I look around at the trio of my best friends chattering away and I’m grateful for each of them.
Murphy and Whitney are both stunning in their own way. Murphy has jet black hair, coupled with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen and two of the deepest set dimples in the world, which is sort of a twist of fate since she is one of the most jaded people I know. But on her, it’s almost charming, not whiny.
Whitney, well, she could walk the Victoria’s Secret’s runway. Probably make the other girls jealous, too. She’s also armed with a PhD in Neuroscience and a Masters in Bioengineering. She finished her degrees concurrently and has gone on to do absolutely nothing with them.
That’s her way of telling her parents to go fuck themselves. I don’t agree with it, but she’s got her reasons and she also has a trust fund that could run a small country, so who am I to judge?
Adam is the only one of us that actually needs his paycheck, just another one of the differences between our ragtag little group. We’re all a bit of a disaster in our own ways.
“Oh!” Murphy waves a hand in front of her, grabbing our attention. “Guess who I saw this morning coming out of fucking Starbucks for crissake? Who the fuck still goes there, anyway?” Murphy screws up her face with disdain.
“Uhhh, everyone.” Whitney deadpans and Murphy sticks her tongue out.
“Whatever. Anyway, what was I saying?”
“Starbucks. You were about to tell us——”
“Yes! Guess who I saw?”
Murphy sits there, staring around at each of us, actually expecting us to guess, like there’s some way we might be able to narrow it down from everyone in the whole world.
Murphy smacks my shoulder before going on. “No idea, huh? I ran smack dab into Derrick Marcus the thiiiiiiirrrddd.” She draws out the word, rolling her eyes until all we see is white. But my stomach turns. My fingertips turn cold.
If she’s expecting me to say something to that, she’s going to be disappointed.
“What the fuck?” Adam glares at her. “Even if you saw him, you didn’t have to bring it up.” He shifts in his chair and gives me a sympathetic side eye.
“What?” Murphy raises her eyebrows, genuinely clueless. That’s her. I won’t hold it against her. “I thought she would want to know. You want to know, right Willow? I thought he was living in LA, but he said he’s back. So shut the fuck up, Adam, she has a right to know something like that. I think she needs to know.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.”
Yeah, okay, nice attempt at lying, Willow. If that’s true, then why am I sweating? Why can’t I stop swallowing the spit that is gathering in my mouth?
“He was living in LA. He switched from the west coast office of the law firm to Manhattan. Lots of rich people in trouble on both coasts. He’s in demand from what I hear. Does a great job manipulating the criminal justice system.” Whitney leans in. Her eyes soft on me. “But he has some big deal he’s working on with Daddy as well from what he said. Honestly, that family is the one percent of the one percent of the one percent, and they still can’t stop there. Derrick is back in his father’s good graces. But you know, with them it’s not even about the money. It’s about winning. Or more than that, it’s making sure someone else loses.”
Adam spins his glass half a turn back and forth on the sleek onyx-granite tabletop.
“I still can’t believe your mom didn’t believe you.” Adam whispers, dropping his eyes and leaning over at the waist.
I shake my head, not wanting to discuss it. Instead I lift my eyes and try to distract myself with some of the sexual energy that pulses in the room. Around us, there are mainly clothed humans. But toward the back of the enormous room, I catch glimpses of flesh and the noises are distant but distinct. Pleasurable moans twisted with yelps and cries of pain. It makes for interesting background noise. The distraction doesn’t help me to ignore the way my gut is turning in and over on itself.
“Don’t you think it’s time you had a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend I don’t care. You haven’t even dated anyone have you?” Murphy chimes in and this time Adam and Whitney both give her side eyes. “I mean besides when Derrick stalked you your sophomore year if that counts.”
“I didn’t date him and he wasn’t my boyfriend.” I correct. “He apparently thought he was, but he was not.”
“Sorry.” Murphy shakes her head. “Wrong word. But you haven’t had a boyfriend. I’m not wrong about that.”
Truth is, I’ve never had a boyfriend. Boys have never appealed to me.
I try to push away the image of the man that still haunts me. The man that makes all other potential suitors superfluous.
The man I can’t have.
Shouldn’t want.