“Can’t even end your own life properly, can you, Lydia?” he’d huffed, shaking his head as he zipped up his suitcase, no doubt on his way to another mistress. “Next time let me know if you need any assistance.”
I wasn’t sure when exactly my father had started despising my mom, but I knew it had to do with the fact he couldn’t leave her, with her current mental state, if he ever wanted to get into politics. What was even more confusing to me was the love my mother still felt for him. Though I wasn’t sure whether it was love, a habit, or simply a crippling fear of being alone.
Back in reality, my mother huffed, her chin resting on her shoulder, her back to me.
“No, I don’t need you, Edie.”
“Are you sure?” I pressed. I knew she’d ignore my existence altogether if I stayed without permission.
“Edie! We’re going to be late. I have a meeting at ten. Drag your butt over here before I let you walk all the way,” my father boomed behind me. I ignored him.
“Positive. Your dad wants you to go. Just go.”
I didn’t even ask her what had happened to planning a vacation and getting better. She’d probably quit her meds and was now on a nasty downward spiral, spinning out of control all the way to rock bottom.
“Okay. I’ll keep my phone on.” I waved the device in the air.
“Thank you, sweetie. When you come home, can you…can you help me with my hair?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“Keep an eye on your dad.”
There was no need to elaborate. I knew what she meant.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, darling girl.”
And I believed her, because Lydia Van Der Zee wasn’t a bad person.
She was just a bad mom.
To do list: attain flash drive.
I couldn’t let Jordan send Theo off somewhere on the East Coast. I couldn’t.
And that’s the thought that drove me on that Monday when I fetched people their coffee, made dry cleaning runs, did other people’s children’s summer school homework, held a whiteboard up for twenty minutes straight while the maintenance guy tried figuring out why it had fallen from a wall in one of the meeting rooms, and grabbed Jordan’s mail.
The mail room was my favorite place in the building.
It was situated on the fourteenth floor and was deserted of people. The PA’s used to pick up mail every day at four p.m. Any other time, it was just the envelopes and me. And even though I could see the cameras wired all over the place (Fiscal Heights Holdings dealt with sensitive contracts and packages), I still felt alone there.
It wasn’t the ocean, but it was good enough.
I leaned against an industrial printer, exchanging text messages with Bane and burning time. No one needed me for another hour or so, and I couldn’t stand all the suits and pencil skirts roaming the fifteenth floor. They thought what they were doing was so important. I called bullshit. They didn’t save lives. They didn’t teach kids how to read. They didn’t build houses, fix broken cars, or produce food, electricity, clean water, life. They just made rich people richer, or less rich, if they were doing a terrible job. They made corporate companies stronger or weaker. It was the adult version of ToyLand, and it bored me to death.
Bane
So when the fuck are you going to drag your ass to the beach?
Me
Things are busy right now. Just trying to keep afloat tbh.
Bane
That’s the point of surfing, smartass.
Me
What’s up with you?
Bane
I’m buying a houseboat.
Me
GTFO
Bane
Me
Does that mean that you’ll finally let people come over to your place? I’ve never been to your house. You’re always so secretive.
Bane
Yeah, that means I can ride you somewhere private from now on. The perks of being a boat owner.
About that.
I should have probably told Bane we weren’t going to have sex anytime soon, or maybe ever again. It wasn’t because of what Trent had told me. No. I’d really meant it when I’d said that I wasn’t going to take any orders from him. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that I could sleep with Bane anymore.
Trent was on my mind. He invaded my brain, occupying more and more space there, nudging aside all the things that used to inhabit me, to the point of madness. I thumbed the neckline of the black dress I’d borrowed from my mother’s closet, getting ready to text Bane back, when the sound of a closing door made me snap to attention. I twisted my head and saw Trent standing there, his shoulder leaning against one wall.
Hands in pockets. Dark navy suit. The eyes of a predator. Delicious.
Our encounter yesterday had left me aching for more, but it also buggered my mind that he’d gone that far. It made me wonder how much more I could get him to do with me. I clutched my phone, arching an eyebrow.