Damage Control

by M. S. Parker

  She had a massage therapist who relaxed the hell out of her.

  My parents still shared a bed...just not with each other. Sometimes I wondered if they’d even used conventional methods to conceive me. They didn’t disgust each other or anything like that, but I’d honestly never seen any physical affection between them that went beyond a kiss on the cheek or an essentially platonic touch of a hand. They were always polite with each other, courteous, if not mostly cordial. They just lived in their own worlds.

  When my mother informed me that we’d be changing our dinner night, I told her that it was almost impossible to change classes at that point in the semester. Her response had been to tell me to drop the class, her dismissive tone telling me how much she understood its importance to me.

  I could still hear her words echoing in my head.

  It’s not like you need the education, darling. You’re already smart. You’re beautiful, and you’re rich. You can have any man you want.

  It did little good to argue with her. It was just how she saw the world.

  In the end, I dropped the class simply so I wouldn’t have to fight with her. Sometimes, it just wasn’t worth it.

  As they talked over me, I reached for the mimosa I’d made prior to sitting down and tossed half of it back. I should have used a large glass. Like a gallon-sized mason jar. That could get me through a brunch with them without wanting to scream just to shake things up.

  “So…what does Piety’s new husband do?” Mom asked out of the blue, catching my attention.

  “Do?” I stared at her.

  She studied me with curiosity as I fumbled around for an answer, as if she couldn’t quite fathom that I hadn’t been hanging on her every word already.

  “Yes, darling.” She waved a hand. “He clearly has impeccable taste, marrying Piety. Why didn’t you snag him for yourself?”

  “Because he was interested in my best friend, and she was interested in him. I’m not in the habit of poaching,” I said with a sigh. This was the sort of thing I shouldn’t have to explain.

  “Hush, Astra. I know that.” She laughed like it was a joke as she reached over and patted my hand. “I’m just making small talk. You’re so quiet. You didn’t answer though. Is he in finance? I imagine Silas would be ecstatic over that. Might help Piety settle her focus a bit.”

  Because that’s what marriage should be about. Settling a focus.

  Under the table, I twisted my napkin around my hands to keep from drumming my fingers on the tablecloth in a fit of pique. “Kaleb’s a surfer,” I said abruptly.

  I’d almost blurted out that he’d been a stripper, but that was unfair. Being a smart ass just to shock my parents was something I might have done when I was oh…twelve. But I was better than that now. Besides, Piety didn’t need the sort of shit she’d get. They weren’t trying to hide Kaleb’s past, but there was a difference between not hiding and announcing it to my parents.

  “A surfer.” Dad frowned, his eyebrows coming together over his eyes. Over the past couple of years, he’d finally stopped trying to resist the inevitable march of time and quit the botox injections, Now, his forehead actually moved when he made expressions, but he still looked strangely shocked as he spoke. “That’s an acceptable hobby, I suppose.”

  I was sure Piety would be pleased to hear my parents’ endorsements.

  “Maybe. He used to run a surf shop.” Picking up my bacon, I crunched into it with deliberate loudness, knowing it would irk Mom.

  Okay, maybe I wasn’t completely grown up.

  She frowned at me. “Please eat like you have some manners.”

  “Sure.” Dabbing at my mouth, I looked over at Dad. “I don’t know much more about him though.”

  I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell them about Camry. I didn’t fully trust her, but I wasn’t going to let her – and by association, Kaleb and Piety – become the newest fodder for Philadelphia gossip. My cousin, Blayne, had suffered through something similar when he’d gotten into an unconventional relationship a while back, and I wouldn’t subject anyone but my worst enemy to that.

  “Well.” Mom’s voice was distant. “Perhaps I should have made an effort to speak to Amara before the relationship progressed so far. We might have been able to present Piety with better options.”

  “You’re unbelievable,” I snapped, shoving back from the table. “It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

  Mom’s head jerked up, lips already pursed in disapproval.

  “She loves him, Mom. And he’s a good man. That’s all that matters. He worships the ground she walks on, and he’ll be an amazing father.” I shook my head, knowing even as I said the words, Penelope Van Pelt Traore would never understand. “They love each other.”

  “There’s so much more to life than just love, darling.”

  The condescending tone in my mother’s voice made me want to scream.

  “Like what? Forcing your daughter to drop a college course so you can move family dinner on Thursdays because fucking your masseuse on Monday evenings was more convenient for you?” The words flew out of me.

  I didn’t realize how angry I sounded until she sucked in a breath.

  “That was uncalled for.” Her voice was cold, the way it always was when she felt like I’d crossed a line.

  Tired now, I looked back at her. “Maybe. But it’s also true. I had to reschedule my life because you put what you wanted above me. I worked my ass off in that class for more than half a semester, and I lost all of it.”

  With one hand, she reached up and patted her hair. “That’s hardly the point, Imogene.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I said, annoyed. “I’m not a child. And that is exactly the point. Everything you do is to make a life that suits you. This wasn’t me being some spoiled brat who wanted to go out with her friends. Or you needing to do something important. It was you putting a fuck over a college class I’d put a lot of work into.”

  “That is enough, young lady!” Her normally bright blue eyes were dark and stormy.

  “Young lady?” I stared at her. “What are you going to do next? Send me to my room.”

  “Enough.” Dad stepped between us and caught my shoulders. “Astra…you seem upset.”

  “Do I?” I barked a bitter laugh, almost throwing his touch off before catching myself.

  I was overreacting, I knew. Not because anything my mom said was right, but because it was nothing new. It shouldn’t have prompted such an intense reaction from me.

  “What’s wrong, dear? Talk to me.” He gave me an encouraging smile, his dark gray eyes so similar to mine as he looked at me.

  I desperately wanted to, but I knew I couldn’t tell him about everything that was going on with Piety. I stopped believing his smile after he’d assured me Max would be happy, and we’d go see him all the time. His love was just like my mom’s, based on what he needed. And right now, he needed peace. He didn’t really want to hear what was bothering me, but if that was the only way to calm things down, he’d do it.

  “Stress,” I said shortly. Easing away from him, I moved to the sideboard and grabbed my purse. “Sorry to ruin brunch, but I need to be somewhere.”

  Anywhere but here.

  Ignoring their protests, I left, slipping out the front and heading for my car. I needed to think and clear my head.

  As I pulled away from my childhood home, I found myself thinking that I didn’t want to come back.

  At least not for a very long time.

  That made me sad too.

  I was losing Piety.

  I’d never suffered the sort of abuse or neglect that I knew thousands of children did at the hands of their parents. I’d never known hunger or cold, never questioned where I’d be the next day. My safety had never been in question.

  But for all the outward necessities and indulgences I’d been given, I still lacked the one thing I truly wanted.

  Love.

  Not in an obligatory sense, or just the sort of familial fondness t
hat people had for someone who shared their DNA or name. But the sort of love that I would have given up every comfort and extravagance to have.

  That was what I’d found with Piety. She was my family. If she moved to California…

  I didn’t want to even think about it.

  “No,” I said, deciding then and there. Avoidance hadn’t ever helped me, so I was going to stop.

  If Piety left, then maybe I should leave too.

  Five

  Dash

  “Have you had a chance to look through the proposals I sent?” Sitting across from Senator Sondra Thatcher, I kept my hands folded in my lap and tried to meet her eyes, but it was difficult since she had a mask in place that was…well…distracting.

  Sequins. Feathers.

  A lot of sequins and feathers.

  She was also wearing a wig. Either that or she’d found the be-all-end-all of hair growth treatments, because the last time we’d met, her hair was much shorter.

  The huge, powdered masterpiece currently perched on her head gave me a headache just thinking about what she’d had to do to keep it in place.

  “Yes, yes…” She pulled a compact from a purse that was barely bigger than my hand and checked her reflection. “Do you know who I am? I mean, who I’m supposed to be, of course.

  I studied her. The mole. The dress. The insane wig and mask.

  She waved her purse at me, and I had to admit, it was a good touch. If somebody had no clue about history, the cake-shaped purse wouldn’t help but, fortunately, I’d always been good with history.

  “Of course, Marie.”

  She beamed at me. “You should have let me help you find a costume, Dash. It’s a Halloween party. You can have a little bit of fun, even if you’re here on business.”

  “I’m sure I’ll have fun. I’m just not a costume person.” Clearing my throat, I tried once more to get her to focus on the rehab center. That’s why I was here, after all. I had no time for parties otherwise. “About my proposal…”

  “Oh, hush.” This time, she pulled her mask off, gingerly though, taking care not to muss her hair. “Dash. I’ve already said that I’ve read your proposal. It’s solid. I want to talk to a few friends and see what they think, but I’m on board. However, I can’t do anything tonight.” She pointed a finger at me. “Now, you just relax and have fun. I haven’t had a night off in months, and I intend to enjoy this. You should do the same.”

  The car came to a stop, and a few moments later. we began to make our way up to the house.

  I didn’t want to tell her that the last thing I had on my mind was fun. Not just tonight, but every night. I had more important things to do. No doubt it would come out as insulting as hell, and I didn’t want to do that, not only because I needed her help, but because I did genuinely like her.

  But I hadn’t come out here to have fun. I hadn’t come out here to wear a stupid mask or costume, either.

  Once we were inside, I thought Sondra would go her own way, and I could find a peaceful corner, maybe deal with email, and reach out to the sponsor network I was trying to build. Get some work done.

  But that wasn’t meant to be.

  Sondra hooked her arm through mine. “Come on. I’d like you to meet one of our hosts.”

  I was along for the ride as we went from one politician to another, then the daughter of a politician and her new husband. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place why. I didn’t have time to figure it out either, because Sondra was moving me along.

  The next clutch of people had nothing to do with politics and everything to do with money. As soon as she introduced me, Sondra launched into a talk about the rehab facility I had planned, and it gave me a moment to take a look around at the group, not that I really needed it.

  They were all old money. I didn’t need her to tell me that. I knew old money.

  I definitely didn’t fit in that class, but Hollywood was a lot more accommodating about such things than most places. Philadelphia, however, wasn’t anything like back home.

  After Sondra finally introduced me, one of the women made a sighing sound. “Your father broke so many hearts when he married your mother, mine included.”

  I gave her a polite nod and managed a small smile. “I’ve heard that quite often, Mrs. Branch.”

  It was a familiar sentiment, and it led to more of the same. Familiar ground, I was able to respond to the curious questions, and evade the ones I didn’t care to answer with ease.

  After the typical small talk had been exchanged, Odelle Branch, the one who’d apparently had her heart broken by my father, turned curious eyes on me. “Why is the son of one of the greatest actors in modern cinema setting up a rehab facility?”

  “Lost friends, no doubt.” It was a churlish response from a woman whose name hadn’t been offered. She gave me a look out of rheumy eyes and sniffed. “You know how it is with young ones who choose the high life. No discipline. No morals.”

  “I know how it is to lose somebody I love,” I responded calmly. I’d dealt with enough petty or lonely people in my life to know how to handle them. They liked striking out. I didn’t bother giving them something to push back about, but that didn’t mean I wanted to continue this conversation.

  Shifting my attention back to Sondra, I said, “I’m going to go find something to eat.”

  “I’ll join you.”

  I repressed a sigh. I’d been hoping to find some peace and quiet, but it looked like that wouldn’t be the case.

  On our way to the room where food was spread out, Sondra kept waving and pointing out everybody she thought I just had to know. There was a damn lot of people I’d managed to go without knowing for almost three decades.

  The sarcastic thought managed to tug a smile out of me, but it faded when Sondra tugged me down and whispered, “See… I knew you could have fun. You’re loosening up. Let’s get you a cocktail and see if we can get another smile.”

  Separating myself from her two cocktails later – both of them hers. She ended up disappearing into the bathroom after snagging somebody female to help her, and I took advantage of it, moving to the nearest door and heading outside.

  I went for the fresh air, but the grounds were amazing. One thing a city like Philadelphia had that California would never possess was the stately old elegance of homes like these.

  Settling on a bench in a far corner of the garden, I sat down and settled back to admire the house. Ivy twined up the sides, and the windows beckoned with a warm golden glow. It was the sort of place that wasn’t just a house, but a home.

  Somewhere close by, I heard somebody laughing, then a moment later, the sound faded.

  Good.

  I wasn’t in the mood to make nice anymore. Or at least not for a while.

  I looked down and realized I was still holding the black silk mask I’d been given when I came inside. Rubbing it between my fingers, I wondered what Layla would have thought about a masquerade party at a place like this.

  She’d always enjoyed…fun.

  “Too much,” I reminded myself.

  Cramming the mask into my pocket, I got up and wandered into the garden.

  Sooner or later, I’d have to go back in there, and I wasn’t much looking forward to it. Sooner or later, I’d have to talk to people. People who would want to know my reasons for opening this particular type of clinic.

  What will you do when you have to talk about me…?

  I silenced that ghostly little voice and lifted my face to the sky.

  It was a beautiful night. Too bad I had to spend it surrounded by people I didn’t know, pushing for help to get through shitty bureaucracy so I could focus on the one thing I really enjoyed doing.

  “Might as well get it over with.”

  I turned back to the house.

  And again, I heard the ghost of a voice.

  You don’t enjoy this. You need this. There is a difference, baby.

  I ignored it. Denied it. Told myself that the noise and chaos, the d
esire to keep busy, was all a necessary evil. I didn’t want it or need it.

  But the truth of it was…I did.

  I had nothing to do and nobody to talk to. And when my mind had nothing to occupy it, I was outright miserable.

  Six

  Astra

  “Aren’t you looking lovely this evening, Miss Traore. Ariel?”

  I grinned at Miles as he stepped aside to hold the door open for me.

  I didn’t get out to the estate where Piety had grown up with her parents, but I remembered the butler quite well. He used to sneak us butterscotch cookies and vanilla steamers when we hid out in Piety’s treehouse.

  “Good guess.”

  “Well.” His eyes moved to the utensil in my left hand. “You are carrying a fork. And it was always your favorite movie when you were younger. I believe I heard it in my sleep for nearly a year.”

  I hugged him and smacked a loud kiss on his cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Then come visit more often,” he replied simply.

  Hearing somebody behind me, I caught my mermaid tail of a skirt and stepped forward. Or rather, I tried.

  I ended up pitching against Miles, and he steadied me, but not before both of us heard the loud ripppppp.

  “Oh, shit.” I closed my eyes.

  As Miles eased me back onto my feet, whoever was behind me just kept on going.

  Without thinking, I shouted, “Thanks, you asshat! You made me rip my skirt!”

  The man paused and looked back, already smirking. When he saw me, his eyes lit up, but I just gave him a withering look as I turned to focus on my skirt.

  “It’s easy enough to mend, Miss Traore,” Miles said. “I’ll get a sewing kit and have you fixed up in a jiffy.”

  He reached up and tapped his earpiece as the asshat who’d trampled on my skirt started back toward us. I didn’t even need to wait for him to open his mouth to know that he was about to hit on me.

  I gave the jerk a withering look. “Don’t waste your time trying to apologize. Do you have any idea how much work I put into this costume?”