Fuck me.
Her tone vaults with emotion. “If this is how you see me, young and dumb, then this is where I leave you.”
Without waiting for a response, Luxury struts to the edge of the curb. There’s an unspoken belief that I’m the one who’s beenreleased. I’ll allow it for the time being.
Silently I hail a taxi, and I give the driver more than enough cash to get her home safely.
“Until I see you again,” I tell Luxury as I hold the back door open.
Luxury snubs my hand while sliding inside. The yellow cab zips down the street and out of sight. Even though it is useless, I travel back toward the alley. It’s empty—no Siamese Twin.
Fuyoung’s adept at playing games. Lethal games. Nevertheless, the blokethey call my father christened meVictorfor a reason.
15
LUXURY
Day Twelve
Victor was the first man to walk this earth who truly saw me.
Now, we all know there’s truth within that beautiful lie.
For a matter of five seconds, I felt like he saw me.
For all his life, I imagine he envisions himself a kingwalking this earth.As if the world were his pedestal. He dissected my insecurities. We shared a moment while I spoke of Momma. The manipulative bastard bent me to his will.
While Victor invades my thoughts, I bristle in the frigid early morning, dressed in hot pink yoga tights, an oversized t-shirt, and Nikes. I drowned myself inhappycolors to kick down the murky mood overshadowing me. It doesn’t work, though, as I diagnose my own dysfunction.
Our first datewasa disaster.
“The sex saved it, though,” I murmur.
Who am I kidding?
I burrowed into Victor’s lap, and he wormed his way into my heart.Well, Luxxie, you put your faith in the wrong man.
I told him every intimate detail of my life and received a lump of coal in return. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t treasure that lump of coal as if it would transform into diamonds.
Conversion takes a million years, Luxxie,I tell myself.
I glance around Brooklyn, the raw creativity of it all, and realize I passed by my favorite flowers. Every morning, a Sicilian prunes her flowers to perfection, right outside the window of her fire escape. I’ve made a habit of waving when she’s around, but I’ve nevernotstopped to reflect over her begonias.
“I hate Victor,” I gripe, wrapping my arms around myself, strolling on. At the next block, I focus on a mural in protest of brutality.
All of two seconds.
I condemn myself for feeling invisible in Victor’s arms while we strolled through the club. Women’s eyes would follow. They were all a swarm of moths to a single flame. An all-consuming flame, simmering without any regard for anybody else’s feelings.
I stop abruptly, almost walking into on-coming traffic. A dark SUV speeds off, offering a scathingbeep.And I laugh at the reality of it all.
He said he was saving me from a bicyclist.I would rather . . .
My thought process twists back around, and I focus on last night. I considered the yellow-polka dot pajamas. But those PJs are reserved for heartbreak, and to be honest, Graham had theshortestend of the crummy ass stick.
My cellphone buzzes as I near the stretch of brownstones where I attend yoga, successfully yanking me from mental torture.
I fake a cheerful, “Hey!”