by Jacie Lennon
“Andrea?” She slightly turns her head, where I can see her profile.
“Brock had someone looking into me, my situation, and they found out that Andrea is my biological mom. My dad lied to her and me for my entire life. The part of my life he was around for.”
“Oh my God, Corbin. I’m so sorry.”
“It gets crazier,” I say.
Landry turns over in my arms, looking at me.
“She’s an Almadale.”
“Like the school?” Landry scrunches up her nose, furrowing her brow in confusion.
“Like the school,” I confirm.
This time, she does sit up, and the blanket she was tucked under falls away. Her long hair falling over one shoulder, nipples pebbling in the cool air. I reach up and lightly rub my palm across one, loving the way it feels. She grabs my hand, interlocking her fingers with mine.
“You are an Almadale,” she says the words softly, almost a whisper. “So, what does that mean?”
“I don’t know. Everything is all up in the air. I mean, I’m not even fully sure that she is who she says she is.”
“Don’t you think if Brock was looking into it that he covered all his bases?”
I rise onto an elbow, twirling a piece of her hair around one of my fingers. “Yeah, probably. It’s hard to wrap my mind around it. It doesn’t make any sense … yet it makes perfect sense.”
“Are you going to see her again?”
“I left in kind of a rush. I needed time.”
“She’s your mother, Corbin. If she wanted to meet you in the first place, I don’t think a little pushback from you is going to stop her from trying to connect.”
“Maybe.”
“You should at least get her number or contact information from Brock before you decide anything. That way, you can contact her if you want to.” She gives a little shrug, and I tug on her hair, pulling her face closer to mine so I can drop a kiss on her mouth.
“Yeah, you are probably right.” I smile, tilting my head for another kiss. Her taste is addictive, and I’m not ready to stop touching her.
“You know what this means?” Landry asks, and I cock an eyebrow. “She would be able to help you with Abe.”
“I can’t ask that of her. Plus, Abe is now my half-brother, if this is true. I don’t know what all of it means anymore.”
I feel so weird, having the rug pulled out from under me like that. It’s a strange thing to think that what you thought you knew about yourself isn’t true. My head is spinning.
“I don’t want you to take advantage of her, but if she truly cares about you, she will care about what you want for Abe. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
“Maybe. I have some time to think about it. I need to think about a lot.” I run the back of my knuckles down her arm, watching the goose bumps follow, and then I wrap my arms around her, pulling her on top of me as I lie back.
Even though my life has changed tonight, it also feels like something has fallen into place. Something is going right for once, and I don’t want to ever give Landry up. The way she fits inside my arms is proof enough that we were made for each other. I think I’m starting to fall for her, and I want to tell her, but I also want to make sure before going down that road. My track record of people who have stuck around isn’t great, and I know that’s what is holding me back.
But, damn, do I like this girl.
26
Landry
Today is the day. I’m shopping with Mom for a dress to the Fall Ball, and I’m supposed to not only get a confession from her, but also record it. I’m sweating and a nervous mess, nothing like I should be for shopping, but so far, she hasn’t commented on anything out of the ordinary.
I feel sick, about to out my mom, who thinks she’s doing what she can to protect me and her.
Snitches get stitches, pops into my mind and spins my stomach again.
“Look at this one.”
Mom pulls me from inside my thoughts, and I look over to where she’s holding up a deep lavender gown. The draping is beautiful. An attendant is hovering behind her, and a hungry gaze takes over her face when Mom hands her a black AmEx card and says anything we pick can be charged to it. I nod and watch as the attendant whisks the dress away to a fancy dressing room, equipped with heavy drapes covering the doorways instead of actual doors.
I turn back to my row of dresses, fingering a few different fabrics but not seeing them.
“Landry?” Mom asks, and I turn to her again, another gorgeous dress extended in her hands. I nod, and it’s also whisked away. “I don’t feel like you are really into this.” Mom places a hand on her hip, a reproachful look on her face. “I would have given anything at your age to be able to afford a dress like this.”
“I am. I’m excited,” I say, attempting to paste a happy expression on my face when I only feel dread.
“Where is your friend who was supposed to come with you?”
Trixie agreed to come shopping with us, but once Brock and Bodhi said that I had to get the recording today, I nixed that. Mom would never talk with her around.
“She had some last-minute family stuff come up,” I say, the lie easily slipping off my tongue. “Oh,” I whisper, holding up an emerald-green gown. It’s an off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved look with a full skirt.
“That would look pretty with your hair,” Mom agrees, and I smile.
I have a flashback to Trixie telling me that green was my color when I donned the bikini, and then I see the green eyes that pinned me in place as he pounded into me.
Definitely going with green.
“I want to put it on now,” I say.
The girl hovering nearby moves to take it from me, but I stop her with a look. I want to carry it, and I can put my clothes on, thank you very much.
After struggling into the dress and twisting and turning to zip it up the back, I smooth my hands down the front, staring at myself in the mirror. I imagine Corbin’s face the moment he sees me in this. A secret smile sneaks onto my face before my stomach sinks as I realize I’m still going with Peter.
Dammit.
My stomach sinks further when I realize that Corbin hasn’t even brought up going with me. I’m living inside a delusional world.
I reach and pull back the curtain. When I step outside, the attendant gasps loudly.
Okay, lady. You can cool it.
Mom smiles and claps her hands together. “It’s perfect. You are a vision,” she says, moving closer and pulling the skirt out around me as I step on the raised platform in front of the triad of mirrors.
I shift this way and that, looking at my sides and the back of the dress, which has a small train. I look like a princess; I just need a tiara.
“This is it,” I say.
The girl nods and smiles, her excitement on a level like I’ve solved world hunger. Maybe I’ve solved her hunger with the commission she will get on this price tag.
“Perfect. Bag it up,” Mom says, smiling at the girl.
I hurry back into the dressing room to take it off. I’ve never stepped foot into an article of clothing that fit like it was created for me. It almost made me forget about my real objective today. Almost.
“I thought we could go to that new restaurant in town,” Mom says, her voice muffled by the curtain as I strip.
“What restaurant?” I ask, not up-to-date with all the new things going on around us since I live in a bubble at Almadale Prep.
“The new Italian place.”
“That sounds good.”
God, I could vomit right now.
I step out of the dress, delicately hanging it back on the hanger before sticking it out the side of the curtain, the eager attendant taking it from my hands. I dress slowly, delaying the inevitable. I wish there were a handbook on this, something that told me the correct course of action to take. How to ask the right questions and what to say. I feel like the worst sort of child. But they promised it wouldn’t come to anything legal as long as she complied, and
I feel like this is the best course of action for a favorable outcome. I bet my mom will disagree.
“Are you ready?” she asks as soon as I step out of the dressing room.
I wipe my hands down my faded boyfriend jeans to rid them of my nervous sweat.
“Ready,” I say, pasting on a smile and following her from the high-end dress boutique.
I’ve never been one who enjoyed shopping, so I’m glad that it’s over. The dress of my dreams is toted out behind us.
My phone dings from my back pocket, alerting me to a message, and I’m almost afraid to look. While Mom is distracted with instructing the attendant where to put the dress in the back of her pearl Audi S8, I pull the phone out, swiping to read the message.
Unknown number: Change of plans. Where are you?
The sweat under my pits is now dripping down my sides, and I start to panic.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown number: Brock, dipshit.
Me: Oh. I don’t have your number. What change are you talking about?
Brock: Now, you have it. Dad is here. Where are you eating?
Me: The new Italian place. What is Chester doing here?
My mind spins.
Are they still expecting me to get her admission on tape? This is not what we discussed. I’m not good with spur-of-the-moment changes. I need things to stay the course. I hear Mom’s door shut and see her already sitting in the driver’s side seat so I quickly open my door and slide in.
Brock: We wanted to talk to him, but he arrived early. Do you have the audio?
Me: What? No! We haven’t been to eat yet.
Brock: Get it. Dad is surprising Linda at lunch. You don’t have much time.
Me: What the fuck, Brock?
“Who are you talking to?” Mom asks.
I jerk my head up. I’m sure I look like a deer caught in headlights.
“What? Who, me?” I say before stopping myself and licking my lips. I don’t have a future in espionage.
“Do you see anyone else in the car?” Mom asks, a smile on her face.
“No. Just Brock.”
“Oh? Are you getting along now?”
“What do you mean?” I don’t know how much she knows about my relationship with my stepbrothers. Namely, that we haven’t had one until recently. Very recent.
“I know you and Brock and Bodhi seemed to have some tension before you left for school.”
Understatement of the year.
“Yeah, but we are good now.”
My phone dings again.
Brock: Ticktock.
I almost growl at my phone but catch myself in time.
Motherfucker.
I reach and quickly press the record button before I tuck my phone back in between my thighs, the end of it sticking out to catch what we are saying.
“So, Mom?” I start, clearing my throat.
She glances at me and then back at the road. “Yes?”
“I’ve been thinking about what we talked about last time you were here.”
“And?” Her voice changes from carefree mother to something I don’t recognize. She sounds apprehensive, and I’m upset with her for putting me in this position.
“I don’t want to do it,” I say and brace for impact.
“You don’t want to, or you won’t?”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“Not at all. People do things they don’t want to do all the time.”
“It’s not right, Mom. I don’t understand why you can’t outright ask for the money. I think it’s a little weird that you are doing it in the first place.”
“It’s insurance, Landry. If things were to go south with Chester and me.”
“If you divorced, you’d probably get half of his things anyway,” I say, keeping my voice even, which is hard when I want to yell.
“Oh, Landry, men like that don’t stand by and let others take their things. He would fight me tooth and nail for everything.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know a hell of a lot more than you,” she spits, and I draw back.
I realize nothing she has said so far is incriminating, and I need to regroup. I hate myself for doing this.
“Yes, you probably do, Mom. But I know it’s not okay to steal from someone.”
“It’s not stealing. We’ve been over this. It is me taking what’s mine before it’s taken from me.”
“That’s a fatalistic attitude, Mom.”
“It’s a realistic attitude. Can’t you see that I’m doing this for you?”
“But you aren’t. You are including me in something illegal. You faked my birth certificate, for fuck’s sake.”
“Language,” she says, and I fight the urge to laugh. Her being concerned over me saying the F-word at a time like this is insanity. “As I said, it’s for you, and if you don’t want to help me with that, that’s fine. But I’m very disappointed.”
My heart sinks. I can’t talk about this anymore. I feel battered with her reasoning, like she’s gaslighting me, conning me into feeling bad enough to help her. I’m beginning to doubt her story about my dad since it seems like she’s the villain in this narrative, not the victim.
We pull up at the restaurant, and I grab my phone from where it was stashed, hitting End on the recording and stalking toward the front door. I glance around, but I don’t see the boys’ black SUV anywhere, and I feel a hint of relief. Maybe they won’t be with Chester. But then my chest tightens again when I think about meeting him for the first time. It’s weird that I’ve been living off his dime for so long, having never actually seen him in person. And now, the air around us will be filled with tension and anger.
Perfect.
27
Corbin
I almost feel like an interloper, as if I shouldn’t be a part of this, but Brock and Bodhi wouldn’t let me back out of it. I drum my fingers on the table in front of me. The only sounds coming from our table are the occasional shift of Bodhi beside me and the clicking of Brock’s phone as he texts.
“There he is,” Bodhi says beside me, and I jerk my head up.
I watch Chester Montgomery approach the hostess station before she cuts a glance our way, one that Chester follows. His face breaks out in a smile as he strides over. He’s every bit the doting father, something I’ve always longed for, and in a way, he’s who I view as my dad.
“Boys,” he says as he reaches the table, looking each of us in the eye as if we are equally important to him. He removes his suit jacket, placing it on the back of the chair before sitting down. “Linda will be thrilled to have the family all together.”
“I bet she will,” Brock says, and I watch his body sway as Bodhi kicks him under the table.
“I haven’t met Landry yet. Do you boys like her?”
“Some more than others,” Bodhi says, smirking, and I send a glare his way.
Chester glances up from where he’s perusing the menu. “Hmm?”
Damn, I wish we weren’t here to do what we are about to do. I wish he had picked someone different. For all of our sakes.
“Nothing. How’s the business?” I ask, fully interested in the answer.
Chester isn’t a self-made billionaire, but he’s the reason the Montgomerys’ millions turned into billions. He’s a savvy businessman, and I hope to be like him one day.
He is a real estate developer, buying up land and turning a profit. But he does it to help people. Instead of building multimillion-dollar houses or condominiums, where the only people who can afford them are those of his tax bracket, he’s made his mark on the economy by purchasing land from banks at reduced rates and building affordable housing for the middle and lower class. He’s the reason many families have a roof over their heads, and I respect that. I admire him, and I’m hoping when I graduate, I can get a job somewhere within his company. A fact I haven’t told anyone, even Brock or Bodhi.
“Splendid,” he says, looking at me with a smile. “We are breaking ground on a
new apartment complex in Florida this week. How have you been, Corbin?”
His attention warms me, makes me feel important, and I sit up straighter.
“Doing good, sir,” I say.
Bodhi snickers beside me, but I ignore him. They don’t get my fascination with their family business or how I crave their father’s attention. But they’ve always had him; he’s there for them at the drop of a hat. And since freshman year when I met him, I’ve had his attention, too, and I can’t lose that.
“Do you have any internships available for after graduation?” I sit forward, and he furrows his brow before pulling out his phone.
“Let me ask my assistant,” he says, tapping on his screen for a moment and then looking back up. “I’m not sure all the spots are filled. Of course, Brock and Bodhi will be working with me. I didn’t know you were interested. I’m glad to hear it.”
“I am. I’d love to work off-site somewhere. Even out of state.”
That’s preferable. Grab Abe and go.
My heart cracks a little when I think of Landry, not knowing if she would be open to it. I know she wants to go to art school.
“I’ll see what I can do. Oh, here they are,” he says, looking up.
The four of us fasten our eyes on the front of the restaurant, where a pale Landry and calm Linda are standing. Landry turns slightly, her eyes meeting mine, and I itch to go to her, to wrap her in my arms. She raises her hand in a small wave, and I smile.
God, the way this girl has changed me in such a short time.
We stand as they approach.
Chester pulls Linda into a hug before saying a jovial, “Surprise.”
Maybe we should have said it to him first.
“Chester? What are you doing here?” Linda says, hugging him back and successfully morphing her confused face into one of a wife who is happy to be surprised by her husband at lunch.
