by Claire Adams
“I can see he hasn’t changed one bit.”
I paced the floor in front of the window. “You’re right,” I said. “He hasn’t. He still looks incredible. And he’s all trying to get me to go back to the penthouse, under the pretense of me wanting something, like there’s some knick-knack I might want to keep.”
“You do know why he wants you to go back there,” she said. “Right?”
“Of course I do. I could tell by the way he was looking at me. I’ve lost weight and I’m no longer the chubby, unattractive slug he used to live with. Now he’s interested.”
“Because he’s a shallow, entitled piece of shit. So good for you for not giving into that. I know he’s hot, Isla, but that doesn’t mean he should just get whatever he wants.”
“I know. Which is why I’m standing here in my bug-infested hotel room. Which I only got because I was trying not to spend too much money.”
“Well, duh! You can check into someplace else. You could stay at the Four Seasons if you wanted.”
“I don’t have access to the money yet. It’s not instantaneous.”
Sophie was quiet for a minute. “You know what you could do?” she said slowly, as if a great idea was just dawning on her. “You could actually take Levi up on his offer. Go back over to his place, start to seduce him, and then leave him high and dry. I can all but guarantee something like that has never happened to him before. Tell him he has a small dick right before you leave.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Why not? You don’t always have to be the bigger person, Isla.”
I grimaced. “Ha, ha, no pun intended, right?”
“Okay, maybe not the right choice of phrase. But he was such an ass to you! He really was. And you’ve worked hard and you look amazing and you can now use that to get back at him. Yes, I know it sounds a little juvenile, but people like him . . . there’s never any consequences for their actions, because they think they can use their money and good looks to get out of anything.”
“Because they can.”
“Mostly, yeah. But you have a chance now to at least make him feel bad for a day. I think you should go for it. You just inherited a billion dollars! You can do anything.”
I stopped pacing and looked out the window, down at the street below where people were walking by, the tops of their heads like tiny little circles moving along the sidewalk. “Right—I can do anything, so wouldn’t it be kind of pathetic if in my moment to do anything I decide to take revenge on my former stepbrother?”
“No,” Sophie said firmly. “It wouldn’t. If anything, it’ll bring you some closure. Then you can get on with whatever it is you want to do with your newfound wealth.”
I started to pace again, and as I walked by the end of the bed, I caught sight of myself in the mirror that sat atop the dresser. I wasn’t unrecognizable from the girl I’d been at fifteen, but I did look a lot different. On the outside. On the inside, I still felt the same, and I think that was what infuriated me the most about Levi. I knew he liked me for who I was, because we got along so well when it was just the two of us, but back then, he couldn’t let his friends think that he’d be friends with someone who wasn’t physically impeccable. I was as close to physically impeccable as I would ever be, I knew this, and maybe Sophie was right. If I just left town after the funeral and never spoke to Levi again, he wouldn’t give me a second thought. Except to maybe be pissed that his father had left me a bunch of money, but he’d forget about that eventually.
No. I wanted him to remember me, I wanted him to regret that he’d been such as asshole to me in the first place.
13.
Levi
I didn’t recognize most of the faces at Dad’s funeral. The church was packed, though; there wasn’t an empty pew, and there were sounds of sniffles and even a sob or two. I was in the front row, next to Cal and his wife, Colleen. Cal got up and made a speech my father would have been proud of. When it was over, I was one of the six pallbearers, and I had no clue who three of the other guys were. The casket was heavy. It was huge, made of gleaming mahogany; it reminded me of Dad’s office, actually. The few times I’d ever stepped foot in there. It was strange and surreal to think of him inside this box, about to be put in the ground forever.
As I walked down the aisle out to the hearse, I saw Isla amongst the sea of faces. She was wearing a modest black dress, her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She caught my eye and gave a little nod. The look on her face was different than it had been yesterday; her expression now was one of compassion, as though she truly felt bad for me. I held her gaze and gave her a quick nod, then looked forward again and kept walking.
Cal had the reception at his penthouse, located on the top floor of the Arthur C. Winchell building, not far from the church. I shook hands, accepted condolences, and managed to dodge any questions about just what it was I planned to do with my father’s company, now that I owned the majority of shares in it.
I could sense people watching me, and it made me uncomfortable. Not that I wasn’t used to being looked at; I knew women checked me out, I knew once people learned who my father was and how much money I had, they were always interested in hanging around, but this was different. Now I had power, too, power in a way that I didn’t before, and people wanted to see what it was I was going to do with it.
I was starting to feel like some exotic animal in a zoo exhibit or something.
When I saw Isla, I breathed a sigh of relief. She had just come in and was talking with Daniel, Dad’s lawyer. I waited a minute before I went over.
“Hey,” I said.
Daniel had already expressed his condolences, so he excused himself and left me and Isla standing there.
“I’m really sorry,” she said. “About your dad, of course, but also about yesterday, in the hotel. You were just trying to be nice.”
I smiled. “Thanks. And thanks for making the trip up here. I know I already said that, but it means a lot. Dad always liked you. You were the daughter he never had.” I paused. “Really, you were the child he never had; trust me when I say he would’ve traded me in a heartbeat, if he could have.”
“Levi.” She reached over and touched my hand, her palm cool and a little clammy against my skin. She looked uncomfortable, but then again, who could blame her, being in a room with all these people. “I know for a fact how much your father loved you, so I hope you honestly don’t believe that he would’ve traded you for anything. I guess he did think of me as a daughter, though.” She glanced around, making sure no one was too close. “He did leave me some money,” she said in a low voice. I heard her perfectly fine, but I leaned closer. “I didn’t know if you knew that or not.”
“He did the same for me,” I said.
“Well of course he would have. You’re his son.”
“You were like his daughter. He was always going on about how I could learn a thing or two about your work ethic.”
She frowned, as though this whole thing were rather perplexing. Around us, the buzz of conversation continued, people shooting looks our way. Who were these people, anyway? Friends, associates, strangers who admired my father? It suddenly felt like the whole room was closing in on me, even though we were standing under twenty-foot ceilings and the entire east side wall was made of glass.
Isla looked at me closely. “Are you all right?”
“I have to get out of here.” I grabbed her hand. “Come on.”
14.
Isla
We left the reception.
Levi didn’t bother to say anything to anyone; he just grabbed my hand and we were out the door. We took the elevator down to the lobby and then we were outside, the day warm and inviting. It didn’t seem like the sort of day you would have a funeral on.
“Sorry,” he said, as we walked. “It’s just been an intense couple of days. I haven’t been sleeping well, and I think it’s all starting to catch up to me.”
He did look pale. “You’ve been through a lot,”
I said. “And you know what? If you want to go back to your place, we can. It’s been so long since I was last there, I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.”
That hadn’t been what I’d been planning to say. It sounded awkward, contrived, and I thought he’d probably see right through it. But then I realized there was nothing for him to see through. He was supposed to think I wanted him; that was the whole point. Really, the more I could make him want me, the better it would be when I finally rebuked him. I reached out and looped my arm through his.
“You sure?” he asked. “You want to go there?”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “I really do.”
15.
Levi
I knew she’d have a change of heart. This made me feel better as we walked back to my place, but something odd happened when we went inside. When I closed the door behind us, it really hit me that my father was dead. That might sound strange, considering I was just coming from the funeral, and I’d been one of the ones to carry his fucking casket in and out of the church, but being back here, in our home—the place I’d spent the most time with him, even if he was in his office and I was in my room—that really drove the point home that Dad was gone and I was never going to see or talk to him again.
I was vaguely aware of Isla next to me, gazing around the place, taking it all back in. She and her mom had lived here for almost five years. The décor hadn’t changed much, and I knew it was probably a bit of a mind fuck for her to be back here. I walked through the foyer and into the library, where my dad kept his good, single-malt scotch in an antique bird’s eye maple cabinet. I grabbed the first bottle my fingers touched, opened it, and took a big swig. I hated alcohol and rarely drank it, but the burning taste seemed appropriate. I didn’t have an aficionado’s appreciation for such things, but right now, I could admire the burning sensation all the way down my esophagus. My eyes watered and my tongue felt like it was trying to detach itself from my body and run as far away as it possibly could. I took another swig and brought the bottle with me when I went back out to find Isla.
She had moved from the foyer into the living room. “Everything looks the same and totally different,” she said. “It’s so strange.”
I held the bottle out. “Want some?”
She shook her head. “No, I better not.”
I took another sip. Either my mouth had started to go numb or I was developing a taste for this, because that burning, tingling sensation was much less. The stuff went down smoothly; so smoothly that I took another, longer sip, and barely tasted it at all. The room felt like it went out of focus for a second. I set the bottle down on the coffee table and lowered myself onto the couch.
Isla set her purse down and let her gaze travel slowly around the room. “You know, I never thought I’d see you again, after our parents got divorced.”
“I didn’t either.” Actually, I hadn’t given it much thought. By the time our parents split up, I’d discovered Ibiza, and was heavily into the party scene. When we were teenagers, Isla had been shy and overweight, like she was afraid to actually interact with people. Whenever I’d have friends over, she’d run off and hide in her room.
“I’m glad, though. It’s too bad it had to be under these circumstances, but I’m glad that we’ve had a chance to reconnect.”
She sat down next to me, her leg touching mine. I reached over, my hand on her thigh, not in a romantic gesture, but because I was trying to steady myself, stop the whole room from spinning. I hadn’t eaten much these past couple of days, but my stomach felt filled to the brim with scotch. I squeezed her thigh, feeling as though I was about to go flying off the couch and out into oblivion. My mouth was suddenly flooded with saliva, yet it felt very dry. I kept trying to swallow, but it didn’t seem to matter: The saliva kept coming.
Isla didn’t seem to notice, though. She moved closer, her hand on my thigh, not trying to hold on, but stroking, getting close to my crotch, which normally would’ve been a very welcome development, but right now just made me feel even dizzier. She leaned in, her face very close to mine, our mouths nearly touching.
“I’ve thought about you a lot,” she said in a low voice.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe through my nose. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel the heat radiating off her body. Her lips brushed mine. My stomach lurched. I tried to kiss her back because I didn’t want her to think I didn’t want this, but my mouth couldn’t seem to find hers, even though I knew she was right there. My eyes flew open, and I tried to jump up but it was too late. I barely managed to push her aside before I started puking, all over her purse.
16.
Isla
My phone was ringing.
I reached over, without getting up, to the other side of the bed, felt around blindly until I found it. I picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me. So I should be there in like fifteen minutes.”
I had drawn the blinds when I got back to the hotel, but sunlight was leaking in around the edges. I lifted my head enough to look at the bedside clock. It was almost ten.
“Okay. I’m in room 1018. I’m just going to hop in the shower.”
“I’ll be right up.”
I’d left Levi’s in a rush yesterday, after he’d finished puking scotch all over my purse. I’d almost left without the purse, but then I remembered at the last second it had everything in it that I needed—wallet, phone, key card to get back into my hotel. So I went into the bathroom, took one of the hand towels, and brought it back out to the living room where I wiped my purse down the best I could. Luckily, it’d been zipped, and he’d puked down one side of it, not over the whole thing. All liquid, it would seem, no chunks, but still. Ew. In my anger, I threw the hand towel at him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was sitting there with his eyes closed, a pained expression on his face. I grabbed my purse and fled back to the hotel, alleged bed bugs be damned.
I took a scalding shower, scrubbed the shit out of my skin, and cried. It wasn’t so much out of sadness or frustration, but just the fact that I needed a release. Exercising had always provided me with that, but I hadn’t gone for a run today, and probably wouldn’t because I hadn’t brought my running sneakers with me and right now I sure as hell couldn’t afford to—
Except I could. I stopped crying, except there was still water from the shower running down my face. This whole thing with Levi and I’d all but forgotten the reason I’d been there in the first place.
I had a billion dollars.
Well, maybe not just yet, but I would, soon.
Could I even really fathom that much money? Not really. It didn’t seem possible such a sum would even exist, never mind that I would be in sole possession of it.
There was a knock at the door as I was finishing getting dressed. I went over and opened the door and Sophie came bustling in. I’d called her last night when I’d been lying there in bed, unable to sleep, because that whole incident kept replaying in my head. “You know what?” she’d said. “I’m driving up there tomorrow. I’m setting my alarm right now and I’m going to get up early and drive up there. And don’t try to tell me not to!” She’d hung before I could protest.
Now, she stood there, wrinkling her nose. “God, it still smells like vomit. I can’t believe he did that!” Her eyes were bright as she looked around the room. “Where is it?”
“What? My purse?”
“Yes. I want to see it. Well, first, give me a hug!”
We embraced, and already I felt better just by her being there. The most devastating part about my mom marrying Alex had been that I’d had to leave Maryland, and leave Sophie behind.
“It’s over there,” I said, pointing when we let go. She went over to the small table by the window and looked at the bag, a light-pink leather tote that I’d gotten at a yard sale several years ago. It wasn’t a name brand and it definitely was showing signs of use, but I loved it and used it every day.
“What a fucking disgusting
piece of shit,” Sophie said. “Levi, not the bag.” She shook her head. “Come on. Get dressed—we’re going out to breakfast and you’re going to tell me everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I said. “Nothing that you haven’t already heard. And the quick version is: I tried to kiss him and he responded by puking. Is that supposed to make me feel good about myself? I mean, this is a guy I was trying to hook up with to get back at, and instead, I’m the one who gets left feeling like shit!”
“Was he drinking?”
“Yes.”
“What was he drinking?”
“I don’t know, scotch, I guess. He tried to give me some.”
“Sweetie, you know it wasn’t because of you that he puked. He obviously had too much to drink and . . . and it was unfortunate timing. This really has nothing to do with you.”
“Yes, well, it’s kind of hard to feel differently. The fact of the matter is, he wasn’t puking until I tried to kiss him. Thanks for coming up here, by the way. You didn’t have to.”
“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. I had the day off today, anyway, and I don’t have my first appointment tomorrow until the afternoon. It was an impulse trip and it feels good! We’re not fifteen-year-olds, anymore; I can come and go as I please. Trust me—there were plenty of nights when I thought about sneaking out my bedroom window and finding my way to the city just so I could get into that stupid penthouse and kick Levi in the balls. And if he started puking when you tried to kiss him . . . that just tells me he’s probably gay.”
I shook my head. “He’s definitely not gay.”
“Come on,” she said. “We’re going out to eat.”
“I’m not that hungry.”
“Well, let’s at least get a coffee, then. Maybe you’ll change your mind. I bet a ton of new awesome restaurants have opened since I was last here. It’s a beautiful day and you shouldn’t be stuck inside this hotel room, moping about Levi, of all people. Don’t let him ruin this for you, Isla! This is like the start of your new life or something. You’re beyond rich! It’s crazier than even winning the lottery, if you think about it.”
