“Just the salad for me.” Emma pushed her menu away, not enjoying seeing the high prices of the items on offer.
“That’s it?” Daniel faced her, trying to read her expression. Emma wasn’t a salad kind of girl, and he knew that. Whenever they ate out, she would order a massive cheeseburger. Grabbing it with both hands, she wouldn’t think twice about sucking it down.
“I’m not hungry.” Emma shrugged. “All the excitement of the day has left me feeling a bit out of sorts.”
Daniel held her in his gaze for a moment longer before turning away and placing their order with the waiter who just arrived at the table.
“We certainly nailed it today!” Damion gushed as he poured them each a glass of champagne. Daniel had ordered the finest champagne that the restaurant had, insisting that they needed to celebrate.
Emma accepted the glass and raised it for a toast, forcing herself to smile and appear happy.
“To Delacourt Designs.” Damion beamed. The three of them clinked their glasses together in the center of the table.
“To Delacourt Designs,” Daniel echoed.
Delacourt Designs. The name tumbled around in Emma’s mind as she absently watched the bubbles rise and pop within her champagne flute. Her name had brought so much trouble to her doorstep. Her name had made her a useful commodity to the mob.
Once upon a time, she’d loved her name. When her mother had died, having the same name felt like they were still somehow connected. Now the name was only like a curse, a reminder of what she had lost, of what could have been.
“Emma?” Damion said her name a little sharply, and she looked up. From the worried look in his eyes, he’d obviously been calling her for a while.
“Sorry, what?”
“Is everything all right, Ems?” He glanced across to Daniel for support. “You seem... distant.”
“I’m fine.”
“You should be more than fine,” Daniel said. “We just signed up to create our own company. We’re only twenty-six, for Christ’s sake. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us. Our whole lives to create our own legacy, our own fortune.”
Emma felt sick. Twenty-six. With her whole life ahead of her. A whole life tied to the seedy underbelly of the mob. A whole life to live a lie, married to a guy she’d never even met. A whole life to throw away just to save her reckless father. He had been so quick to discard his own life, his own fortune, and the forfeit for his actions was the life of his only daughter. Emma held a hand over her mouth, certain she would be sick.
“Ems. What’s the matter with you?” Daniel sounded annoyed.
Emma had to get away from them, from their scrutiny. She fled the table and headed for the ladies’ bathroom. Once inside she locked herself in a stall and tried to steady her breath. Her whole body trembled with anguish, and her hands had become clammy.
Placing both palms on the locked door, she looked down at the tiled floor and tried to calm down. She was letting her mind run away with her. This was supposed to be a joyous, wonderful night. She was supposed to be toasting her success with her two best friends, but instead she had locked herself in a bathroom stall, fighting her urge to vomit over the horrific choice her father had asked of her.
Shaking, she eventually released the lock on the door and studied herself in the mirror over the sink. As though she had seen a ghost, the woman in the reflection was pale. Rather than mask her pallor, her makeup only accentuated it further, giving her an almost gothic appearance.
Turning on the gold tap, Emma washed her hands, letting the warm water run over them. The chaos of her life took its toll. When would the tide turn for her? Today she was due to start her new, independent future. Instead, the history of decay grabbed her. Each time she tried to escape, it pulled her back under into the bog of her father’s turmoil, and this time it looked as though he were going to drown her in it, so she could never be free to pursue her own life, her own dreams.
Gazing at her reflection, Emma wished, as she often did, for her mother. Her mother would know what to do, know how to fix this. But she was gone, so Emma didn’t have her guidance to rely on. For so long she’d had to live without her mother’s wisdom. It felt like guiding a ship in the darkness without a compass, with no idea of knowing where you were going; you were just living in hope that you wouldn’t collide with a rock and sink the entire ship.
As Emma returned to the table, Daniel and Damion fell silent, having been talking about her in her absence.
“Sorry about that,” she muttered as she sat back down. “I’m just not feeling well.”
“Look, if the stuff with the company is too much, we can put it on the back burner for a bit,” Damion suggested.
“There’s no rush,” he continued. “We can go at your pace.”
Emma realized that together they’d concluded that her odd behavior was attributed to nerves about the impending creation of the company. The last thing she wanted to do was slow down her only potential ticket out of her current life.
“No, no.” She shook her head, her voice insistent. “It’s not that. I’m just under the weather. I don’t want to delay any of the proceedings with the company.”
“What did your dad want when he called earlier?” Daniel leaned close to ask the question, his voice dropping.
“He was drunk, as usual,” Emma replied, keeping her tone level. “He just needed me to clean him up.”
Daniel lingered close to her, unsatisfied by her response.
“Well, this has been pleasant,” Damion said. The bottle of champagne was only half drunk. While their plates were clear, Emma’s salad remained scarcely touched. All she’d done was move around some of the lettuce within the dressing. She’d not had a bite.
“Maybe we can celebrate another time, when you feel more like it.” Ice had crept into Damion’s voice as he spoke. He looked between Daniel and Emma, his cheeks flushing.
“Perhaps you’d rather celebrate more privately, just the two of you?” he added.
“Damion.” Emma turned to him, her tone apologetic. “I’m just feeling under the weather, that’s all. I’m really sorry if I’ve ruined our night.”
“As long as that’s all it is.” Damion didn’t face her; instead he kept a hard gaze on Daniel, who refused to meet his friend’s eyes.
“Because this company is a threesome, don’t go forgetting that,” Damion told them. “It’s not just the two of you.”
“We know that.” Daniel finally spoke, his voice stern. Slowly he looked up at Damion, who was standing over the table, ready to leave.
“Emma’s sick, she told you that. Don’t make her feel any worse than she already does. She didn’t mean to damper the celebration tonight, did you, Ems?”
“No, of course not.”
Damion looked at her, the tension in his shoulders waned, and they sank back down. “Well, I’ve got to go,” he said regretfully. “I’ve got work first thing tomorrow.”
“Not for much longer,” Daniel said. “Delacourt Designs will soon be a reality, and we’ll all be working together as a threesome.”
He raised the remainder of the champagne in his glass and nodded solemnly at Damion, who smiled back at him.
“Just get better, Ems.” He placed a caring hand upon her shoulder. “I’ll see you both on Wednesday, right?”
“Wednesday, yeah,” Daniel confirmed. “So,” he began, drawing her attention, “are you going to tell me what’s really going on with you?”
“I’m just not feeling well, that’s all,” Emma protested, though she couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I don’t believe you,” Daniel replied, staring her down. “I’ve known you for too long, Ems. I know when you’re lying.”
He was right. Emma had never been able to successfully lie to Daniel. Somehow, he always seemed able to see through the most plausible façade.
She remembered when she’d been caught smoking at prep school and given her first disciplinary. She’d been devastated. The letter had been
pushed beneath her dorm room door, and she’d wept when she got it. Of course, she’d known it was coming after she’d been caught, but still, to a teenage girl there was something devastating about seeing her punishment neatly typed out on paper emblazoned with the school’s emblem.
After receiving the letter, Emma had gone to meet Daniel and Damion to play computer games in the communal recreation room. To disguise her red eyes, she’d applied mascara, something she rarely ever did.
As soon as she entered the rec room, Daniel’s eyes widened as Damion’s mouth fell slightly open. Daniel had been the first to recover and quipped, “What’s the occasion, Ems? We’re only playing Resident Evil, there’s no need to doll yourself up.”
Blushing, Emma tried to ignore the comment.
“You got a date or something later?” Damion asked, sounding anxious.
“No.” Emma shook her head, regretting the mascara, but at least it prevented them from seeing that she had been crying. If they found out she’d been smoking, they’d be mad, madder than her own father would ever be.
“So this is for our benefit?” Daniel laughed callously.
“Can’t a woman wear a bit of makeup without guys heckling her for it?” Emma said, placing her hands upon her slim hips.
“Watch out, Daniel. She’s up on her feminist soapbox.” Damion sniggered.
“I can wear some mascara if I want without having to answer to you idiots!” Emma snapped.
“So now we’re idiots?” Daniel raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Just drop it,” Emma ordered as she flopped down onto the blue sofa, the same blue as the school’s blazers. Everything had to match at their prep school.
“Who put a bee in her bonnet?” Damion whispered to Daniel, who shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s just play.”
But even the game hadn’t distracted Emma from the anxious thoughts ballooning up inside of her. In her mind’s eye, she kept picturing the letter detailing her detention and besmirching her good name.
Why had she been foolish enough to smoke? She just wanted the popular girls to like her, to accept her. And now she had detention. Her perfect reputation was scarred.
“Ems,” Daniel shouted at her, turning in her direction in frustration.
“What?” Emma blinked at him, clutching the game controller in her hands as she sat cross-legged on the floor.
“I just got killed because you weren’t paying attention.” Daniel gestured at the TV screen, where his character was now dead on the floor, being devoured by cannibalistic monsters.
“Sorry,” Emma replied, still in a daze.
“What’s going on with you?” Daniel continued to watch her intently. On the other side of the room, Damion looked at the floor.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Daniel warned. “You haven’t been yourself since you got here. Something’s up.”
“No, I’m fine,” Emma protested, though her lips trembled.
“Emma, come on, just tell us already. We’re your friends,” Daniel insisted.
Emma sighed. They were friends. They were the best friends she had. She should be able to confide in them about anything. Even something they would undoubtedly judge her for.
“I got a disciplinary today,” she admitted, her voice low.
“What?” Daniel discarded his own controller, his mouth dropping open in shock. Even Damion looked up, his features contorting with surprise.
“Jeez, don’t look so shocked,” Emma said, running a hand through her long hair. “I got caught smoking with Lorraine Sanders and Amy Jessop.”
“Caught smoking?” Daniel uttered in disbelief.
“What were you doing hanging out with those floozies?” Damion asked with disdain. “They’re trouble.”
“They weren’t too much trouble when Amy Jessop stayed the night in your room,” Emma snapped, hurt shining through her eyes.
“Burn.” Daniel coughed, throwing his friend a mischievous look. Damion blushed and rescinded himself from the argument.
“I was just trying to fit in, okay?” Emma admitted.
“You do fit in,” Daniel told her. “You fit in with us.”
“But you’re boys,” Emma stated. “I’d like some friends who are girls.”
Daniel and Damion exchanged forlorn looks. Their friendship was hardly a conventional one, but it meant a lot to them. Their trio worked.
“They could kick you out for smoking,” Daniel warned. “At least it’s your first offence, so they shouldn’t punish you too bad.”
“Mmm.” Emma picked at a stray piece of cotton on the couch. She already felt relieved to have confided in her friends, but now she had to overcome the shame of what she had done. At their prep school, students were expected to hold themselves to a higher standard than normal students their age. Of course people misbehaved, but the judgments were harsher, the tolerance for such behavior much lower.
“I knew something was wrong,” Daniel declared triumphantly. “I can read you like a book, Delacourt.”
“No, you can’t.” Emma playfully stuck her tongue out at him, the revelry amongst the group returning.
“Emma Delacourt smoking.” Daniel smiled to himself, shaking his head in slight disbelief. “Who would have thought it?”
“Stop enjoying it so much.”
“It’s actually kind of hot, the thought of you as a bad girl,” Daniel teased.
“Stop it,” Emma protested even though she was smiling.
“Can we just get on with the game?” Damion piped up, pointing at the TV. “Some of us have a science mid-term first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Sorry, Professor Killjoy.” Daniel laughed, obliging his friend and restarting the game. “Hey, Ems.” He turned, looking at Emma, who had remained cross-legged with her back against the sofa.
“What?”
“Make sure you have my back this time, I don’t want to get killed again.”
SITTING AT THE TABLE in the fine dining restaurant, Emma felt like she was back in the recreation room of prep school, facing Daniel’s judgment.
“Emma, I know something is wrong. Just tell me,” Daniel urged. His face was open and kind. Like so many times before, she knew he wanted to be there for her. “Baby, you can tell me.” He placed a hand upon her leg and gently squeezed, crossing that line which had existed between them for so long. He was no longer just a concerned friend; he was her partner, her lover. And that meant that Emma owed him the truth.
“It’s about my dad,” Emma began.
“I knew it.” Daniel scoffed “I knew the minute he phoned you that something was wrong. What’s he done now?”
Emma hesitated. As angry as she was with her father, she didn’t like other people directing anger towards him. She thought again of his battered face, of the brutal beating he’d taken at the hands of wicked, ruthless men.
“He’s...” Emma wasn’t sure how to begin. She glanced nervously around them, noticing the other diners sipping on their champagne and eating their lobsters. It wasn’t the safest place to discuss something so serious.
“Can we talk somewhere else?” she asked.
“Sure.” Daniel hailed the waiter to settle the bill.
“WE’RE ALONE NOW,” DANIEL noted as they sat in his car in the parking lot of the restaurant. He’d planned to originally leave it there overnight and get a cab home, but he’d hardly drunk any of the champagne, so he was still in a fit state to drive.
Emma looked out of the car window, spotting a few drunk patrons staggering out of the restaurant, their laughter carrying off into the night. She envied how free and happy they seemed. That should have been her. Daniel and Damion should have been helping carry her out as she sang out of tune and laughed. They should have been enjoying themselves celebrating, instead they sat locked in Daniel’s car with Emma about to divulge her devastating secret.
“So are you going to tell me what’s going on with your dad?” Daniel had always been ho
theaded and persistent. He was passionate. Damion was always the quieter, more contemplative of the pair.
“It’s complicated,” Emma said.
“Try me, Ems.”
“Well, when I got back from the investors meeting, something had happened to him.”
“What?”
“He’d been beaten up.”
“How bad?” Daniel asked, his voice calm.
“Pretty bad.” Emma sighed. “Really bad, actually. His face is all smashed up, and he’s got two black eyes; he’s not walking right.”
“Did you call the police?” Daniel sounded cool and collected.
“No.” Emma shook her head, bracing herself for his reaction.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s complicated.”
“How can it possibly be complicated?” Daniel implored, his tone starting to break free of its shackles. “Some loan sharks beat up your dad, you call the police.”
“It wasn’t loan sharks.”
“Then what, someone try to rob the place thinking it was empty?”
Emma shook her head again, offended by the insinuation that her house appeared abandoned. Of course, she knew it did; she just didn’t think that Daniel viewed it that way. He’d never said so before.
“He owes money to some bad guys.”
“Loan sharks?”
“No, really bad guys. Guys who will kill him if he doesn’t pay up.”
Daniel was silent as he thought this over, his hands gripping the steering wheel even though he wasn’t driving.
Emma glanced over and noticed how tightly Daniel was holding the wheel. She could see the whites of his knuckles showing, the veins in his neck beginning to throb.
“What, like the mafia?” he whispered, facing her. His jaw locked and his eyes tight.
“Something like that,” Emma admitted, fiddling nervously with her hands. “He didn’t go into too much detail.”
“How did he end up owing guys like that money?”
“He said they approached him in some bar; he didn’t realize who they were.”
“Shit.” Daniel released air from his lungs in a low whistle. “Guys like that are real pieces of work, preying on vulnerable people like your dad. What does he owe? I’m sure we can settle it.”
Designing Emma (Volume 2) Page 2
