by Doyle, S.
Arthur’s face got red and he was gripping the crystal glass in his hands. “I did not go through all of this, do all of this, to have a daughter who would end up with the bastard son of a whore drug addict.”
“Are you serious right now? What have you gone through? Your father was a rich broker. You’re a rich broker. Very successful, congratulations. But it’s not like you suffered anything for it.”
“You don’t have a fucking clue what I’ve suffered.”
I took a step away. The cursing was back. The face mottled with rage and fury.
“You’re going to Switzerland. End of story,” he bit out.
I shook my head. “You can’t make me. I’m an adult. I can walk out that door and there is nothing you can do to stop me. You think I’ll die without your money, but I won’t.”
Then he sneered at me. “Yes, my darling girl, you would. Because you have no idea how cruel the world is to people who don’t have money. So I’ll keep it in terms you can understand. You go to Switzerland, or I’ll have your childhood friend expelled from Princeton. In fact, I’ll make sure the expulsion will be so repellent, he’ll find a difficult time getting any credible college in this country to accept him.”
I let out a gasp. “Who are you?” I asked him.
This man who I’d called daddy. This man whom I’d obeyed like a good little girl. This man who’d made me curtsey and kiss him on the cheek before bed.
“I’m your father.”
I shook my head. “No. People don’t do things like this. Not to their children.”
He sniffed. “People of our class do it all the time. When there is this much money involved? This much at stake? There can be no wild cards. To be clear, Ashleigh, I don’t care what age you’re going to be in a few weeks. You are still my daughter and you will do as you are told.”
“…your life is his, until he says it isn’t.”
There was nothing left to say. I walked over to the hall to retrieve my suitcase.
“Don’t bother with that,” Arthur called out. “I’ll have George handle it.”
I turned and made my way to the massive staircase, feeling like I was weighed down with each step I took.
“So,” Arthur said, calling up to me again. “Switzerland then?”
“Of course,” I answered quickly, lying through my teeth. “Who wouldn’t be thrilled to go to such a lovely school?”
“Excellent. I’ll be leaving then. I have plans for an extended stay in the city. I just wanted to make sure we were clear on this matter. You leave in six weeks. Everything has been arranged.”
“Well, I certainly hope I won’t see you before I go,” I said politely. “Have a nice stay in the city.”
I could see it took him a second to understand what I’d said. Whether it made him angry or not, I didn’t care. He’d won. He’d gotten what he wanted, which was me away from Marc.
What I didn’t know was why.
13
Ash’s Birthday
Marc
I rang the doorbell at the front door of the house. It felt weird. But I wasn’t taking any chances if Landen was around, although I didn’t think he was since George was gone. Which meant Landen was mostly likely in the city.
It seemed like forever, but finally the door opened, and there she was. I hadn’t seen her in months because of the whole prom mix-up. Really thinking about it, it had almost been a year. Since last August.
She hadn’t changed much. White blond hair that fell in soft curls around her shoulders. She was wearing a hint of makeup but not much. She looked completely smoking hot in the white, spaghetti-strap dress that fell to her ankles. Like some modern-day hippie chick who should have flowers in her hair.
She pretty much looked like Ash. The girl I’d grown up with.
Except my reaction to her now was different. I’d known she was hot. When she walked around in those barely-there bikinis, she could totally make my dick hard.
But I’d never realized how fucking beautiful she was. How absolutely fucking beautiful.
“You’re beautiful,” I muttered. Like I couldn’t keep the words inside me.
Her face lit up. “You’ve never said that to me before.”
No, I wouldn’t have. Stroking Ash’s ego was never my thing. If anything, I did the opposite. Standing here now, seeing her as the adult she’d grown into, there was no point in denying it.
“You are stunning. I’m sorry I never told you before.”
Her cheeks turned pink and she looked away. “You’re doing the whole making-up-for-the-prom thing pretty well.”
She wasn’t wrong. Part of this night out had been about coaxing her into coming back, but mostly it was to make up for what I’d done. I had a plan.
I was going to be charming. It wasn’t like I didn’t know how; I’d simply never been charming with Ashleigh.
I was going to be attentive, a good listener and even a little flirty.
What I hadn’t expected, what I wasn’t prepared for, I think I was also going to be a little smitten by her, too.
I held out my hand. “Ready to go?”
“We get to hold hands?”
“We get to hold hands,” I said. “I’m also taking you someplace to dance after dinner.”
She beamed at me, and I knew that if I did this right, if I did absolutely everything right, she would only ever remember this night and not her prom night.
* * *
Harborview restaurant
Marc
We were sitting outside because the weather was so perfect. We were at a new French restaurant that had opened up in town. There was no candlelight but there were fairy lights draped over the awning that covered us.
Le Baiser. The Kiss. A little corny, but she loved it because she spoke French. Fluently. As did our waiter.
I let her order our meal because she knew everything I liked, and I enjoyed sitting back watching her do her thing. The way the words fell off her tongue, the way she quickly replied to everything the waiter said.
Not going to lie. Ash speaking French was hot.
We sipped on sparkling water as we waited for our food, but it was strange. For the first time since I’d known Ash, she was quiet. Usually she was all about asking me questions and trying to pull stuff out of me about my life. Stuff I would very reluctantly give her.
Tonight, she seemed thoughtful.
Maybe it was the birthday. Maybe it was the sudden change in our dynamic. Where I was not being a complete asshole to her tonight.
“So how was San Diego?” I asked.
“It was cool. I just walked along the water and did all the touristy things. Helped to get me out of my head. Arthur wasn’t happy because I’d changed plans on him, but it doesn’t matter now.”
Arthur. That was new.
“Your father said you needed the trip because you were so distraught over what I’d done. I listened to your voicemail…you didn’t sound distraught.”
She shook her head and her hair brushed her shoulders. It looked as soft as cotton balls and I thought about how it would feel crushed in my hands.
“He was exaggerating,” she said, but she fidgeted in her chair while she said it. Which meant she was lying. “Getting away from everything did help.”
This was her night and I didn’t want to ruin it by pushing something she obviously didn’t want to share. I would let her get away with it tonight.
“You excited about school?” I asked, changing the subject. “Just a few more weeks.”
Our first course arrived, so she didn’t answer immediately. It wasn’t until those plates were cleared and she was playing with the edge of the lace tablecloth that she looked at me. Really looked at me, maybe for the first time tonight, and I was worried about what I saw in her eyes.
Sadness? Fear?
“Marc, have you ever thought about leaving Harborview?”
I snorted. “Are you kidding? I think about it constantly. In fact, I won’t be staying at the carriage
house next summer. The bank where I’ve been interning these past two summers is going to bring me on as a temp hire. I’ll be making money, so I can afford a place to rent somewhere in the city. It will mostly likely be a couch with five other banker dudes, but that works for me. You get that, right?”
She nodded. “No, I meant after school. If there was someplace you wanted to go besides New York, where would it be?”
I laughed. “I’m going to be an investment banker. There’s only one place to go.”
She glared at me.
“Fine, okay. Uh, San Francisco? That’s always looked cool. Maybe Seattle, too. There’re mountains and water. Sometimes I think about Florida. You know. Because of my love for Dan Marino.”
She shook her head. “Your obsession with a quarterback who you’ve only ever watched play in ESPN throwback games is ridiculous.”
“Don’t hate on Dan,” I told her. “He’s the best there ever was in my opinion. Keep Tom Brady.”
While I did have an unhealthy affection for Dan Marino, that wasn’t why I said Florida.
It’s where my mother had disappeared to. I didn’t know if she was alive, in jail, or had somehow found a way to have gotten clean and just hadn’t bothered to let me know. But there were times I thought about going there and looking. Just to see. Until I remembered I didn’t give a shit about her because she didn’t give a shit about me.
I wasn’t ignorant to the issues I had in life because of her. Anger being a large one. The idea of finding her, maybe fixing myself, was always tempting. But I knew it wasn’t that simple.
After all, if she was dead, there would never be a fix for what had happened to me.
“Florida,” she repeated with a small nod. “Okay. I’ll remember that.”
That seemed an odd comment, but whatever. Our entres came. I had no clue what mine was, so I just ate, and it was delicious. Then her chocolate cake came out with a candle, which again made her smile and I thought…
I’ve always had that smile. It had always been there for me whenever I needed it.
It didn’t matter how many times I pushed her away, she always pushed back, and when she did, it was with that same warm and completely open smile.
We had coffee, she ate cake and I paid the bill. Then I took her to this bar a couple blocks down from the restaurant that featured a dance floor and jazz music on the rooftop.
“We’re not going to get in,” she told me as she squeezed my hand. “Maybe you, but totally not me.”
“I took care of it,” I told her. My former soccer teammate was working as the bouncer here this summer. I’d agreed to give him a hundred bucks to look the other way and let us in.
Yes, this date was costing me a fortune. During the school year I worked night shifts at a restaurant to earn some cash. This night was basically the equivalent of one week’s worth of tips, but Ash deserved this.
Harris was at the door as expected, and I slipped him the cash.
“No drinking, Campbell,” he reminded me. “It will only call attention to Baby Barbie.”
“I’m going to try and not be offended by that,” Ashleigh said, smiling up at Harris.
He smiled back, and I tugged her along behind me. On the rooftop there were scattered round, high-top tables, more twinkle lights. The music was the kind of soft jazz you swayed to. The dance floor was filled with couples doing exactly that.
Guiding her to an empty table I helped her up onto the high seat. “I can get you a drink if you want. Just wait here and I’ll order for both of us at the bar.”
She shook her head smiling. “I’m as high as I need to be.”
“Okay, then. Let me make the ultimate sacrifice. Ashleigh, may I have this dance?”
She tilted her head like she was the princess I’d always accused her of being. “Why, Marc, I thought you would never ask.”
I took her hand and guided her to the dance floor. She’d been taught to dance properly at some point so, rather than wrap her arms around my neck with my hands around her hips like I used to dance in high school, she placed her hand in mine, the other on my shoulder. While I brought her in close with my hand on the small of her back.
She sighed, pressed her cheek against my shoulder and I thought this felt pretty fucking good.
This was what I’d missed a few weeks ago, this feeling of her in my arms, but I was glad we were doing this here and now. With strangers instead of her classmates. I liked that we were invisible. I liked knowing she was all mine.
“Not going to lie,” I said, bending down so I could whisper in her ear. “You feel pretty good in my arms, Ash.”
She lifted her face to me, her expression nearly blissful, which made me wonder how she would look in bed after an orgasm. For the first time in my life, I didn’t crush the thought. I simply let it happen.
“I knew we would fit. You just didn’t trust me.”
It hadn’t been about trust, it had been… My mind went blank. I didn’t know how I felt about Ash. Ever. Because I wouldn’t let myself think about it. Ever.
I would never process what she was to me, because, if I did, the answer might be too damn scary.
Tonight, I wasn’t shoving her away. Tonight, I wasn’t calling her names. Tonight, I wasn’t going out of my way to hurt her.
And it felt pretty good. Not as scary as I once thought it might. She went back to pressing her cheek against my shoulder; I pulled her in even closer so our bodies were touching. I could feel her breasts against my chest.
I’d decided against wearing a suit and tie because of the summer heat, so I was just in a light blue button-down and slacks. There wasn’t a lot of space between us and I thought about shifting my hips back, making sure she couldn’t feel my semi-hard dick. But part of me wanted her to experience that, too.
She’d dropped her hand from my shoulder and wrapped it around my waist. I’d pulled her against my entire body. We fit up and down from chest to breast, from dick to pussy.
There was no semi about my arousal now, and the way she didn’t shift away from me, I knew she not only felt it, but welcomed it, cradled it.
Maybe it was a tease. I had no plans to fuck Ash tonight. She was still entirely too dangerous to me for that. But I wanted her to know she was beautiful, arousing and sexy as fuck. I wanted to give her all of that. From me.
The song ended, and people clapped politely. I tried to release her, but if anything, she clung tighter.
“Please don’t let me go, Marc. Please.”
There was a desperation in her voice I didn’t like. She’d sounded…she’d sounded too close to what I’d sounded like when I’d begged my mother for the same thing. Not to let me be taken by the cops. Not to let me go.
Firmly, I wrapped my hands around her biceps and pushed her back so there was a full foot of space between us.
I was shocked as hell to see that the whole time we’d been dancing, tears had been streaming down her face. The way the mascara smudged under her eyes, it was impossible not to see it.
“What the fuck, Ash? What’s wrong?”
She pressed her mouth closed and shook her head. Then she pulled away from me to wipe the gunk from under her eyes.
“I’m a mess,” she announced. “I’m just going to use the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”
I had this instinct not to let her go, not to do as she asked, and instead hold onto her, but she was gone too fast. Quickly melding into the crowd.
Shit. Maybe this was too much for her. I wanted to give her this night, but I also knew I was playing with fire. No, not fire. Her feelings. She thought she was in love with me.
I didn’t believe it. I’d never believed it. She was a kid and I was the only person she’d known growing up. Any affection she had was born out of circumstance, not true emotion.
She would come back to the table, and we would talk. I would set the ground rules. This was supposed to be just a nice night out for her. Nothing else. If she wanted to dance again, I wouldn’t hol
d her so close. I’d also think of anything necessary to stop myself from getting hard.
When she finally made her way back to the table, she was smiling, but I knew it was a front.
“Talk to me, Ash.”
“I will,” she said. “But not tonight. Tonight is my night and I don’t want anything to ruin it.”
“I don’t mean to lead you on. You know this isn’t…” I struggled for the word I was looking for.
“Real,” she supplied. “You want to say it’s not real. That we aren’t really a couple who had an incredibly romantic dinner. That you weren’t really turned on because you were holding me close. That you’re not really thinking of taking me home and making love to me. Sound about right?”
She said it with some cheek in her voice, but it had to hurt her. Because she was right about all those things. Except about the turned-on part, I couldn’t lie about that.
“I guess I just broke the spell,” she sighed. She turned and looked wistfully at the dance floor. “It was fun while it lasted. But this Cinderella is ready to call it quits.”
I took her hand and she squeezed mine back, and we made our way out of the club to where I’d parked the car. The ride home was quiet and when I pulled up the endless driveway to the house, it was dark.
She got out of the car and I followed, walking her to the door.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and watched as she opened the unlocked door.
“You didn’t lock the front door before leaving?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “No one ever comes up here.”
“That’s not safe.”
She shrugged again then turned to me. “Are you working tomorrow?”
“No, it’s Sunday. George has a bunch of chores I need to do, though, so I’ll be busy.”
“It won’t take long. I have to tell you something and I didn’t want to do it tonight. I’ll come over first thing.”
“That sounds cryptic.”
“I’m not trying to be. I promise.” She hesitated, as if thinking something over. “Are you going to kiss me? Because I’m pretty sure, along with the fancy restaurant, cake and dancing, I was promised a kiss.”
