He spread his hands wide. “I’m already looking into what I can do to stop it, but the ugly facts are that this is the exact sort of thing people will eat up. We likely can prevent them from printing your new name, but if such a book gets published…”
He let the sentence trail off.
I knew what he was getting at.
“People will figure it out. It’s not hard to draw the connection once the dots are there. Nora took over after her husband’s … accidental overdose, since my parents were indisposed, and the foster child she took in…” I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. I didn’t look like my mother. I did, however, look a great deal like my father’s mother. All people had to do was look for the connection and they’d see it.
They’d see it, and they’d destroy—
No. Setting my jaw, I looked over at Tom. He’d been my lawyer for years. Nora had found him, introduced us, and made sure I could get along with him before she put him on retainer. He’d been the go-between with all things having to do with my mother and anything related to the girl I’d once been.
“Set up the meeting. But make it fast. I’m leaving town soon, and I won’t be waiting around for her.”
He nodded. “Would you like me to accompany you?”
I almost told him no. Then I said, “Yes. I’m going to want a witness for what I tell her. It might be good to have somebody on hand to keep me from killing her, too.”
Tom laughed.
I didn’t.
* * *
The next holdup came from one of the supporters of Nora’s Door. When the food-supply company found out that I would be working remotely for the foreseeable future, they weren’t happy. I had to set up a lunch appointment with the CEO, a man roughly my age with blond hair and a rakish grin. The blond hair and the flirtatious smile made me think of another sexy blond. When he claimed he was heartbroken that I was leaving without giving him a chance, I just snorted at him.
“I can still do my job just fine from a few hundred miles away—even a few thousand, Drake. Now … can you do yours without me here to hold your hand?”
“Ouch, Ella.” He cocked a brow and leaned forward, his eyes narrowed and shrewd. “You’ve gone and developed some teeth, kid. Why are you really in such a hurry to get out of Dodge?”
“I’ve got another project,” I lied. “And you didn’t answer me.”
He sighed. “Fine, fine … but only because it’s you. You turn things into gold, so I don’t expect this will be any different.”
“It won’t.”
We discussed a few preliminary details as we waited for our meals, and he fell into his familiar routine of flirtation and subtle come-ons. This time, it was easier to brush him off, and when he reached out to touch my hand, I calmly pulled away instead of freezing as was my habit. I knew Drake too well by now, though, and I should have realized he was analyzing everything I did.
“So what’s his name?”
I paused over a bite of pasta and looked up at him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The guy’s name.” Drake lifted one shoulder. “You went and changed. You’re more confident. You’re calmer. And you’re … angry. I can’t think of many things that would bring about that kind of attitude change in a woman so fast. It’s got to be a guy. Who is he? Is he why you’re leaving?”
“Nobody you know, Drake,” I said softly. “And no. He’s not why I’m leaving. He would have been the only reason to stay … eventually. But it didn’t work out.”
* * *
The third and final fiasco was the worst, though.
The day before I was supposed to meet my mother, I had a call from a realtor. I’d had a few prospective buyers, but so far, nothing had panned out. I’d hoped to get something resolved before I left, because I wanted to sever that last, final tie to Sean.
No such luck.
But then the call came in from Sheila Heston. I’d actually done business with her before, but she wasn’t my realtor. I wasn’t at all surprised she’d managed to dig up my personal contact information. Sheila was a shark, and it sounded like she was a shark with a prospective buyer for my house.
“The buyer has some questions and wants to go over the house with the actual owner.”
“Not happening.” I studied Google maps. I still hadn’t decided where I was going.
On a whim, I switched over to search and typed something in. After hitting Enter, I leaned back and watched the results pop up.
Results for properties for sale in Scotland.
It was stupid, maybe, to even think about it. I’d never go anywhere without a reminder of him. But maybe if I just surrounded myself with reminders, I’d grow inured to it. I could inoculate myself against the misery even.
“Look, Ella … let me be blunt here. I already talked to your agent and that was the same song and dance. I know I’m playing fast and loose here, but my buyer is serious. Willing to pay up front, in cash, and close within a month. I’m just asking for some leeway here.”
I lowered the phone and stared at it.
Then, slowly, I pressed the receiver back to my ear. “Did you say cash?”
“Yeah.” She laughed weakly. “It’s the craziest thing I ever heard. So … are you in?”
“I’m not meeting anybody alone, Sheila. That’s just stupid.”
“Oh, hey. That’s not required, at all. I’ll be there. Bring your agent with you. Bring that bruiser who drives you around. It doesn’t matter.”
I blew out a breath.
No … say no …
It hit me then that if I did this, I’d be that much closer to cutting all ties with Sean.
The house where we’d spent so much time together.
He had left the bar.
I knew he was still working at the B&B, but it wasn’t like I was going to hunt him down there.
This was … it. I didn’t want to sell the place because it was a tie to him. Yet at the same time, it was a vital, crucial step, one I had to take.
“Fine,” I said quietly. “But it has to be soon. I’m flying out of the country in a few days, and I won’t be back for quite some time.”
“Schedule is open. Just say when.”
Swallowing the knot in my throat, I closed the browser on the properties. “Tomorrow afternoon. Two o’clock.” I’d be done with whatever hell my mother had planned by eleven-thirty. It would take a few hours to get back in town. I’d go straight to the brownstone. Having a focus would get me through the afternoon. Then I would go home, fall apart.
And the day after that?
I was leaving.
I still didn’t know where I was going, but right then, it didn’t matter.
* * *
Evelyn Lyle had once been a rather beautiful woman.
She wasn’t now.
She was hard and lean, her blond hair gone to gray and cut short, and lines fanned out from her eyes and mouth. When she saw me, she rose from the chair and pressed a hand to her lips.
I didn’t pay any attention to that.
I just watched her eyes.
They were empty. Vacant. If she’d ever had a soul, she’d either sold it or lost it long ago.
“My baby,” she said, her voice choked and hushed.
“Hardly.” I looked around. Seeing no better option, I took the chair across from hers. Tom took the one between us.
Two guards remained in the room, but they appeared to be bored. My mother was in a medium-security facility. I doubted she was considered much of a risk. Or at least I would have doubted it, before I’d seen her. But something told me she’d learned how to adapt inside these walls. I guess you had to, when you wanted to survive in prison.
She lowered her head, and by the way her shoulders rose and fell, I guess I was supposed to think she was struggling to control herself.
She wasn’t.
I don’t even know how I was so certain. I just was. She was trying to play me.
“Why don’t you just tel
l me what you want?” I said, settling back in my chair. “I’m already bored, just looking at you.”
“You must be so angry with me. You must hate me so much.”
Those words hit me, and I almost agreed with her, but then I stopped to consider them. Surprising myself, I said quietly, “No. I don’t hate you. You just … don’t matter to me.”
She shot me a look.
Something told me that I’d surprised her, too.
Leaning forward, I braced my elbows on the table and stared at her. “I let fear control my entire life, Mother. I didn’t let people touch me. I didn’t let people get to know me. I lived trapped inside a prison of my own making—one that allowed me not much more freedom than you have here. And what did I do to deserve it?”
I laughed mockingly. “I wasn’t the one who prostituted a young child on video for the sick pleasures of others.”
“We never—”
“You never sold me for the actual act. But you sold the fantasy. On video.” Curling my lip at her, I leaned in. “I don’t remember, and I thank God for that.”
I could see the next argument forming in her eyes, and I smiled, surprised at the hardness that I found buried inside me. I think it had been there for a long time. I’d just never let myself look, never let myself find it. Now, though, I all but bathed in it and let it show in my eyes. Her lids flickered.
“I’ve seen one of the videos … Mother.” I threw the word at her.
She flinched.
“You dressed me up like some stupid doll, and while I was strung out on those drugs you put in my food, you stripped me naked, posed me. You and that snake who spawned me—”
She surged upright. “Don’t you dare speak about him like that!”
“Oh, you’re right.”
One of the guards moved closer, making sure my mother saw him. I looked over at him, shaking my head. I don’t think it mattered much. I hoped she could hold it together, though. I didn’t realize until now how much I needed to say these things to her.
“You see, a snake isn’t a bad thing. I don’t think there are words for creatures like you and him.”
“Bitch.” She rasped it out. “He’s dead because of you.”
“He’s dead because even scum in prison don’t tolerate monsters like him. That’s not my fault.” I looked around the visiting room where we were and clicked my tongue. “You were smarter, managed to get protection or something, and you survived. That’s not my fault, either. You put yourself on this path. However it started, when you two decided to use me as a thing, forgetting that I was a child? You were headed this way ever since.”
Her face was red, shoulders heaving.
I leaned back in the seat once more. There was a weight gone from me. I hadn’t realized how long I’d carried that weight. Slowly, I breathed out, then in. Despite the ever-present ache that had lived in my heart since Sean had told me to get out of his apartment, I felt … good. I felt free.
I was going to be okay.
Maybe I wouldn’t be happy. Not for a while yet, at least. I’d try to find a way to make myself happy sooner or later, but I was free.
“What are you smiling about?” Evelyn glared at me with hatred in her eyes.
“Because I’m done with you. For so long, you and he were the monsters in my closet. Not anymore.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.” She smoothed her hands back over her short cap of hair, then shook herself slightly, almost like a dog shaking the water from its fur. “I tried to do this the nice way, but you clearly had to go and be a brat about it. You always were a brat, kid. Even then. So, we’ll do it the hard way.”
Ignoring the guards, she leaned forward. “I need money. My account here is almost gone. Nora is gone, so that cold bitch can’t add anything to the kitty. Either you … help me out … or I’ll have to figure it out on my own. I got another six months before I’m up for parole. I’ll probably get out this time, but I need money to set myself up when I’m out.”
“I’m not giving you jack.”
“Yeah.” She tapped her nails on the surface of the table, smirking at me. “You are. Otherwise, I’m going to start reaching out to some contacts I’ve made. I’ve put out feelers, sweetheart. Plenty of people would love to hear about the past of the mysterious Ella Cruise.”
She dropped my name down and waited.
I just laughed. “Do you think I’m surprised you know my name? And is this where you make the threat to come clean with some tell-all book, proclaiming how sorry you are?” Gesturing to the ever present security cameras, I said, “I wonder how easily people will believe you after I bribe somebody to get me a copy of that video.”
Her face went white.
“But here’s the deal … the first thing I’m doing when I leave here is contacting a news anchor I’m on good terms with. I’m done hiding in the closet. I’ll set up a time, and within twenty-four hours, my face … and your name … will be all over the news.”
Her hands closed around the edge of the table. “Wait.”
“No.” Shaking my head, I stood up. “I’m done … Mother. You picked a very, very bad time to try this.”
“You fucking bitch! You do this and I’ll be dead within a week. I don’t have the money to…” She stopped and sucked in a breath.
I looked over at Tom.
He lifted a shoulder. “She should probably talk to the warden, see about getting transferred into solitary for the time being.”
“Then I’d suggest you do it, Evelyn.” I gave the guards a polite nod. One of them had an odd look on his face, like he was trying not to smile.
We left.
By the time we got to the door, I was shaking so hard, I couldn’t even open it. Tom took care of it, and I almost stumbled outside into the cool, clean air. Sucking in a breath, I focused on the car ahead.
Paul was beside it, waiting.
There was a worried look on his face.
I focused on him.
And I smiled.
Chapter 8
“Yes, Stacia … yes, that should work. Ten a.m. at my home.”
I disconnected and looked up, found Paul watching me in the rearview mirror. The light ahead was red. Tom looked far calmer than Paul did.
“Are you sure about this, Miss Ella?” Paul said.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I think I need to.”
“Why now?” Tom asked, drawing my attention to him.
I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m not sure. Perhaps because she made the threat.” I smoothed at an imaginary wrinkle in the neat skirt of the pale gray suit I’d worn. Pale gray. Tomorrow’s outfit was pale blue. Last week had been a mix of pale rose, peach, pink, silver, and green. Most of my wardrobe was a mix of pastels or simple taupe or black. Everything designed to blend in or fade away.
“I need to go shopping,” I decided. “I want all new clothing.”
Tom arched a brow.
I plucked at the skirt of my suit. “I’m tired of dressing like I should be part of the wallpaper. Does that sound stupid?”
“No, Ella. It does not.”
I nodded haltingly and went back to staring out the window. “She’ll talk. Sooner or later. I’d rather be the one in control. And … I’m tired. I’m tired of worrying that somebody will find out and I’ll be blindsided. I’m tired of being ashamed.”
He reached out then and covered my hand. “You understand this—I know that. But I have to tell you. You did nothing wrong. It was something terrible that happened to you. You were a child, and you did nothing to deserve it or invite it. You have no reason to feel ashamed.”
“Yes, I know..” Despite the knot in my throat, I managed to smile. I even managed to keep my voice steady as I responded. “I do know. Still, it helps to hear it. Sometimes, what’s up here…,” I tapped my head, then lowered my hand to my heart, “and what’s in here don’t always get the same messages. The reminders help.”
“I’ll remind you weekly, should you feel it’s
necessary.”
I laughed. “Sure. Put it on the calendar.” Leaning my head on the padded headrest, I drew in a series of calming breaths. “I can stop freaking out if I do this. It will be in my hands. I make the decisions. I’m in control.”
“The media will go nuts.”
I lifted a shoulder. “I won’t be here for long.”
“Have you decided where you want to go?”
“Scotland.” It was stupid. It was downright foolish, really. But I wanted to go. I had a longing to spend some time in a little cottage somewhere in the Highlands. To lose myself and do nothing but read and be lazy. I thought maybe I’d earned it.
I’d take some time and try to heal.
“You’re still wanting to go by the brownstone, Miss Ella?” Paul asked from the front seat.
“Yes.” I plucked again at the listlessly colored skirt. “After that, we’re going shopping, Paul.”
“Of course.”
Tom looked up at the word shopping. For a moment, I’d forgotten about him. “Buy something in a strong color for tomorrow. Not red. I’d go with a vivid green or blue.”
I met his eyes. “Why not red?”
“People associate red with power. It’s not necessarily a bad statement to make, but in this instance, you want a different statement. Green or blue are strong colors, but they don’t have as much of a visual impact.”
“Okay.” I nodded. It didn’t matter, really, what color I wore, as long as it wasn’t pastel.
“Would you like me to help you prepare a statement?”
“Yes. I think that might be a wise idea.”
Tom and I spent the next ninety miles going over what I wanted to cover and the details I wanted to avoid. He thought it was wise to segue into how my history and Nora’s care of me led to my desire to help others, and thus, Nora’s Door was born. “People will want to hug you and help you and support you all at the same time. They’ll look at you and see the damaged girl and the strong woman, all at once.”
“I’m not…”
“You don’t like the word damaged.” Tom nodded. “I don’t blame you. But that child was a victim. You’re not her anymore. You’re stronger now than you were when we last met just a few months ago. People need to see both sides, Ella. It will give hope to those who’ve been where you were.”
Thirty Nights with a Dirty Boy: Part 3: A Heroes and Heartbreakers Serial Page 6
