After sorting through most of her gifts, Brandy reached for the present I brought her.
The look on Brandy’s face once she had opened it said it all. I gave her a scrapbook full of photographs detailing the important moments of twenty-five years of her life.
“Veronica gave me a few of the pictures to complete my collection,” I explained. “I was going through pictures in my old yearbook and got the idea to give this to you. She gave me a few pictures to copy and place inside your book. I thought it was a good idea because…” I maintained my geniality despite the deflated look on Brandy’s face. I decided against explaining any further.
Brandy put her hand on her hip and looked mildly offended. “Is this your passive aggressive way of judging me for not keeping in touch when you went off to Georgetown?”
“No.” I swayed my hand back and forth in my lap and vehemently shook my head. “Not at all.”
Her iron facade suddenly cracked and she laughed. “Take a joke, Keaton. It’s…” Having trouble looking at me, she thumbed the corner of the book for a while. “…nice.”
“If you don’t like it, I can—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Placing it on the table, she flashed one of her signature grins at me; it was the grin she wore when she had to deal with an unpleasant situation but wanted to keep up appearances. “I won’t let this affect the plans I have for your birthday. We all know you’re going through something.”
“Brandy,” Sonja hissed, reprimanding her in a way she never usually would.
“Are you…upset with me?” I asked Brandy.
“Not at all, Keaton,” she said through her teeth. “Well…” She turned to her next gift. Shortly after opening it and discovering the watch Veronica purchased for her, she proceeded to dramatically fawn over it.
The pain I pretended wasn’t there began to impede on my ability to remain seated on the overstuffed leather couch. I excused myself and went to the kitchen.
The staff buzzed around me, either pretending I was invisible, or gave me a polite smile when I said hello.
“You’ve been making faces all night.” Nathan entered the kitchen while looking skeptically at the kitchen staff. “Honestly, why did she need hired help for a dinner party of four? She hasn’t grown out of the mean girl she was in high school.”
“When Brandy is upset with me she reverts to the girl she used to be, the one who used to torment you.” And I tried numerous times, unsuccessfully, to make her leave Nathan alone. She would play nice when I was around. Nathan told me later that she put on a show for me. My friendship with Nathan became the first splinter in my friendship with Brandy.
“Mad at you about what? Is she still upset she didn’t get into Georgetown with you? No one could blame you for losing contact with her when you went to school.”
I shook my head. “She got over that really quickly. It’s something else, and I have no idea…” I turned a little too quickly and couldn’t hide the involuntary wince that appeared on my face.
“I knew there was something up with you.” He circled his finger toward my face. “I didn’t want to ask this with an audience. Is it cramps?”
I nodded my head at him, falsely indicating the source of my pain.
He fumbled around the kitchen and found Brandy’s ceramic cookie jar. He reached inside and retrieved a Ziploc baggie containing Brandy’s stash. “Some things will never change.” He moved to put it back.
“I think I could use that.”
“I think it’s Oxy. It’s too strong and habit-forming.”
“I will only take half of one.” When he narrowed his eyes at me, his mouth forming the word no, I added, “It’s for more than cramps.”
He examined the bag with skepticism for a few seconds. Reluctantly, he handed the bag to me.
I retrieved one pill and swallowed it down with an untouched glass of water from a silver serving tray. The remainder of the pills were slipped into my clutch when Nathan’s gaze darted elsewhere.
“Are you bringing Noah to Sonja’s dinner tomorrow night? She’s having a get-together with some of our friends”—he used air quotes at the mention of the word friends, possibly exemplifying that Brandy wasn’t invited, because she was truly only my friend—“to celebrate our homecoming.”
“I don’t think he can make it.” My statement surged with an apology.
“Keaton,” he groaned. “We want to meet the man who saved your life.”
Word traveled quite quickly in our small circle. I had only told my parents the lie about how I met Noah. Somehow, it was evident that everyone who knew me, or of me, knew the story about Noah.
“I’ll ask,” I told Nathan, having the firm notion that Noah would say no. I didn’t want to let Nathan down. “Can you apologize to Sonja and Brandy for me? I’m not feeling very well.”
“Of course. Do you want me to call you cab?”
“No. I’m okay to drive.” I gave him a strained smile and a half-hearted hug. I was in far too much pain for anything more substantial.
I snuck into the living room unnoticed and tucked my coat over my arm. I said goodbye to my friends, loud enough for them to hear me, but I was mostly ignored.
Brandy gave me a short wave. My scrapbook remained on the floor underneath her feet.
MY PHONE RANG THE instant I placed it on my nightstand beside the bed. I had plans to lie down after the Oxy made me drowsy. When I saw that it was my mother, I put my nap on hold for a few minutes longer.
“Mom?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea why you and Noah haven’t invited your father and me over to your new place for a visit. We have to network for my campaign and maintain appearances, Keaton.”
“I’m not feeling too well today,” I whispered.
“I can tell in your voice that you’re not right. I’m coming over. You’re not…pregnant, are you? Cheese and crackers, when is that man going to make an honest woman of you? It looks uncouth to have you two living together without at least the promise of marriage.”
“I took some pain pills and they are making me really drowsy, can I call you back later?”
“It can wait until tomorrow,” she assured me. “Get some rest, baby girl.”
“I will. Good—”
“Oh!” she interjected on the brink of hanging up the phone. “Don’t forget about the fundraising event, Keaton. Your father and I would like you and Noah to be there. No excuses. This is important. We have several fundraising activities planned and we need your presence there—the both of you.”
A marked tinge of disappointment infiltrated her tone. Deciphering that something bothered her beyond Noah’s lack of desire to network at events, I put my need to sleep aside. “Is there something wrong?”
“The damn sitting Senator,” she blurted out, the words obviously paining her to say. She was never one to easily admit when something was amiss, and she’d always taught me to do the same. “I need clean donations and can’t use my funds to do so. I’m having trouble attracting investors.”
“I thought I heard something about Braedan Michaels helping you?”
“He is, and he has been such a blessing.”
My interest was successfully piqued over the man who was toted as a saint by my friends and my mother. It was hard to admit, but kindness from strangers would probably always be met with my skepticism. “How did you meet him?”
“At one of the events you missed since you’ve returned to D.C. Veronica introduced us. He’s a well-mannered and very, very nice-looking man.” Her wistful sigh rattled my eardrums. “If only you were single—”
“Mother.” I cut her off, stuck between embarrassment and disbelief.
“Braedan has been very valuable to me and he’s certainly well known in my circles. I’ve been told he’s an up and comer in D.C. who came from a long history of wealth and important holdings. You know I believe in making one’s own way. I’m not comfortable with using him. He’s far too kind and too giving. I’ve told him
my thoughts, and he’s belayed my fears by stating to me that helping me makes him feel incredible, but still… Such a selfless, charming man.”
She bordered on sounding like an advertisement for him. Noah’s reclusiveness and sudden aloofness had obviously worn her thin. As usual, she was constantly on the hunt for the perfect man for me. Noah showcasing what she probably deemed were detrimental flaws caused her to immediately begin seeking out what she may have thought were better prospects for a companion.
“As soon as I feel better, I’ll see what I can do about making appearances with Noah.” Avoiding her bait, I made a promise I wasn’t sure if I could keep.
“You’re a doll baby. Thank you.”
Closing my eyes, I shoved my hands underneath the pillow. My cell phone buzzed on my table mere minutes after I ended the call with my mother. I peeked at it, noting that the doorman doubling as a security guard that Noah had hired was calling. He was stationed at the ground floor seemingly at all times. I couldn’t have been sure, but I was almost certain he slept down there somewhere. “Yes?”
“There is a Brandy Moreaux to see you.” He paused. “She told me to tell you that she brought you homemade chicken noodle soup.” He paused and the soft sound of paper rustling filled the dead space. “She isn’t on Mr. Oliver’s list, and I can’t get ahold of him to find out if she’s okay to visit.”
List? Noah had a list of approved visitors?
I told Lem, the guard, to send her up.
The instant she came off the elevator, she hugged me, hard. My attempt to stifle the cry of anguish was futile.
She grabbed my shoulder while steadying the Tupperware bowl in her other hand. “Nathan said you were having cramps.”
Stiff in my movements, I took the bowl from her hands and carried it into the kitchen area. “You spoke to Nathan?”
“He told me I was being a bitch to you, then I told him why.”
After setting the bowl down on the counter, I turned to her, waiting for an explanation.
Her eyes brimmed with tears, quickly spilling out onto her cheeks.
“Brandy?” I stepped forward and tucked her dark hair over her shoulders. “Talk to me.”
“I loved and hated the book you gave me.” She forced the words out as though there was barely any air left in her lungs. She lifted her chin and sniffled. “It was like you were reminding me of what I’m so mad at you about. We were supposed to be friends. Our mothers are best friends. We’ve known each other forever. So why…did you keep so much from me? Why did you run away and act like you couldn’t trust the people who loved you to protect you?”
I had no answer for her, and it was difficult to hold her gaze while having no idea how to immediately fix what I had done wrong.
“Veronica would’ve locked you down in her home like you were the priciest antique piece at Sotheby’s. She would’ve hired a hitman to kill Gregory and kept you safe until the job was done. We all would’ve done everything we could’ve. You ran. You didn’t trust us. And because you didn’t trust us, some crazy lunatics took advantage of you. I was so pissed. I don’t care if that makes me a bitch. I was mad and hurt. I wanted you to be safe, but I blamed you for putting yourself in that situation. The street is for people who don’t have—you have everything, Keaton. You just threw it and us all away like it meant nothing. Why didn’t you trust us?”
I fought against breaking the mask, hiding the shattered Keaton and revealing the falsely happy Keaton she and many people from my past had known me to be. The mask was weak, cracked, and shattering piece by piece. “I was scared that Gregory would take more people away from me. I wasn’t thinking straight.” I quickly grasped her balled hands and held them to either side of my face. “I can’t really take back my mistakes, Brandy. I can only make up for them.”
“I know,” she admitted, releasing the severe downtrodden look imposing upon her face. “I’m not trying to be the heartless bitch who doesn’t feel bad. I cried for you almost every night after what that psychotic asshole did to Reese and his sister. I cried every fucking night when you were out on the street, and I cried again when you were found and everyone found out what happened to you.” Slipping her hands from mine, she put her arms around me and attempted to pull me into an embrace.
I softly sucked my teeth, fighting back from the rifling edge of agony and wrapped my arms around her.
“You’re so different now. It’s hard to adjust to the new…you.”
“I haven’t really changed that much, have I?” I stepped back, still holding her in my arms
“Uh…yeah.” She dropped her arms from me and wiggled out of my hold. Walking with hard and noisy steps, she popped the Tupperware bowl inside the microwave and set the timer to warm up the soup. Resting her lower half against the counter, she gripped it and contemplated the floor. “No one can blame you for being different. You’ve been through a shit ton. I can’t imagine what I’d be like if I had to see all that you’ve seen. Between Gregory and those crazy people who kidnapped you. And Noah…”
I looked up at her. “What do you mean…and Noah?”
“Never mind.” She quickly turned her back on me and stared at the microwave. “Forget I said anything.”
“No, Brandy. What do you mean and Noah? None of you have met him to have any judgments on him, so what do you mean?”
“We only have theories.” She turned back around and crossed her arms over her chest. “He was the madman’s brother. Crazy is genetic. We all think that maybe he helped brainwash you and that’s why you’re still with him.”
“That’s not true at all,” I rebuffed, my voice slightly shrill. “He saved me.”
“That’s the problem, Keaton.” She exhaled hard enough to move a lock of long brown naturally wavy hair from draping her face. “We think that if he had saved you, you would’ve made it home a long time ago. And why did he wait so long to go find you once you were out? He should’ve been at your side the second you escaped. It all sounds so…”
“So?”
“So untrue.”
“I’m not lying about what happened.”
With her face wrought with pity, she stepped forward and took both of my hands in hers. “I know one thing about you probably hasn’t changed. You’re still trying to hide things because you’re afraid of people being judgy. I’m your friend—we’re all still your friends, Keaton. We weren’t friends with each other before, but we bonded over you.” She backed away, holding strongly to the sternness shrouding her face. “You didn’t even let us see you or pick up our calls when you came back. You started traveling the next day. It was like we were never your friends and that you never cared about us or trusted us. It…hurt, Keaton.”
I averted my eyes. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. Sometimes, I think I’m still not thinking straight.”
“We’re here for you in every way. And…don’t get upset with me”—she began to gnaw on her short nails—“but I think Veronica is on a mission to find a man for you.”
My gaze darted to hers and bled with disbelief and mortification. “I have Noah.”
“None of us trust him.”
“If you all got to know him—”
“Do we really need to? I haven’t seen Braedan, but on top of everyone around us bowing to his altar, Veronica can’t stop talking about him. You know how picky that crazy woman is. Maybe you should…meet him?”
“I can’t believe we’re talking about this while we’re standing inside Noah’s apartment.”
“You mean your boyfriend’s apartment?”
“I said that, didn’t I?”
“No. Does he even have a title?”
Since I had introduced him to my parents, I’ve avoided giving him any titles. I couldn’t quite put a finger on why. I told him I’d never know if I could love him, and it might’ve been what was missing. I cared for him deeply, and in some capacity, I felt comfortable with him. I’d been rearranged to a person whom no one with normal thoughts and a norm
al life would’ve understood. I didn’t want the embarrassment and failed trials of finding someone I could love only to lose them to my past and my rocky present. Noah was difficult to love, but easy to be with—or at least, he used to be.
Noah had warned me to shield myself against developing feelings for him, and it concerned me that if I ever did, he would quell that love by destroying me. My guilt had begun to weigh heavily on me, because if he’d decided he’d had enough of me and wanted something more from someone else, I wouldn’t experience the agony of earth-shattering heartbreak. There were rare times I tried to see a way through my ironclad wall and feel a deeper emotion toward him. It was the one thing I couldn’t fake enough to make it become a reality. There was a mental block I couldn’t access, and it kept me from loving him.
“No.” The truth was a sharp pebble and almost impossible to swallow. “He doesn’t have a title. He doesn’t need one. We are…kind of living together.”
She looked around. “I don’t see you living anywhere here. There is no you anywhere here. It’s four brick walls, cold, stark…all Noah. There is no place in this cold warehouse that screams Keaton.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue with her, even if I felt I should have. Nothing she had said could’ve been successfully debated. “I’m really tired, Brandy. I’m sorry to kick you out, but do you mind? I called in sick to work and…”
She grabbed my arm and suddenly studied my face. She touched my back again, making me suck my teeth. She spun me around and lifted up my shirt before I could protest. As I turned around, I tried to sort through the mess inside my head and find a way to explain. I came up with nothing.
She stared at me, unmoving and silent. As if coming out of a daze, she blinked and began to shake her head. “I’m not even going to go there with you,” she said quietly. “Because you know better. Don’t blame me if I start actually liking Veronica and helping her do everything she can to get Noah-crazy-fucking-Oliver’s hooks out of your mind.”
“The martyr has to die, so he can never tell the truth of what really happened.”
The Rebirth of Sin (Wicked Trinity Book 2) Page 4
