by Lila Younger
Copyright
© 2017 Lila Younger
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
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Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Emilia
Nate
Emilia
Nate
Emilia
Nate
Emilia
Nate
Emilia
Emilia
Nate
Epilogue | Emilia
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About Lila Younger
Emilia
“Hey, I’ve got a serious question for you Em,” my best friend and roommate Renee says.
“Hm?”
I’m trying to figure out just what Kant is talking about for my philosophy and ethics paper, so I’m not really paying attention. Have you ever read Kant? The guy is hard to understand. And repetitive. And it’s like trying to run through mud getting through this material.
“Have you ever, just… lived?”
The question slowly makes its way through my brain and I look up. This has to be a joke right? I’m trying to get through this stuff. But nope, her sparkling blue eyes are deadly serious. She’s sitting on her single bed, legs crossed, movie paused, just waiting for an answer. I frown. Is there some kind of trick to this question?
“What do you mean?” I ask at last.
Renee leans forward, her pretty face earnest.
“It’s not that complicated of a question Em,” she says. “I’m asking you if you’ve ever lived a little? Let loose?”
Oh. Now I get it.
“Of course I’ve lived a little,” I tell her annoyed that she’s interrupting me for this. Now I’ll have to re-read the whole passage again. Whatever I thought I understood of Kant is gone, not that there was much. Like I said, the guy is difficult. But Renee isn’t giving up.
“When?”
I sigh and throw down my pencil. Clearly I’m not going to get anywhere with this until I’ve satisfied Renee’s curiosity. Why she has to pick a time like this is beyond me. I’m generally good at organizing my time so I don’t have anything due at the last minute, but even I have my academic limits. And I guess it ends with Kant and his convoluted German translated works. I picked pre-med because I’m good with the facts, with logic and reasoning and that sort of thing. But ethics is a required course (which I suppose is important if I’m going to be a doctor), and even though philosophy claims to be logical, it sure isn’t sometimes.
“Tell me about a time when instead of following your planner, instead of planning out every possibility and controlling all the outcomes, you just, just,” Renee dramatically throws out her arms here, “let the Universe take charge?”
Okay, so I like to know what’s going on. I like to have lists and check them off. But I don’t think it’s as bad as she’s making it out to be. After all, it’s helped me land a full ride scholarship and it’s what’s getting me through my pre-med classes. I suppose to Renee though, it must seem like torture. She’s the definition of a free spirit, and in her third year, she still hasn’t chosen exactly what major she wants to be. Not that she needs to worry about that. She comes from a wealthy family, so she can take as long as she wants. In fact, the only reason she’s in university at all is because her grandfather made that a condition of her getting her trust fund. Luckily her grandmother never specified which university, because Renee’s grades are seriously bad.
“It’s happened,” I tell her, stalling for time while I think. I mean, it shouldn’t be that hard right? I run my hands through my honey streaked hair. “Remember when we decided to go to Subway and it was closed randomly so we went to Dairy Queen?”
Renee gives me a deadpan stare. I don’t blame her. It’s not exactly letting the universe decide, but still! I didn’t go into a tailspin when plans changed like she’s implying.
“Okay, so I don’t like to let a coin flip decide any life changing decisions,” I tell her. “That doesn’t make me a bad person.”
“No, but it does make you a teensy bit boring, and I mean that in the most loving way,” she says. “I mean, you haven’t even dated since you got to college.”
Ah. Here it is. The real truth behind it all. When I told Renee that I’ve never dated and don’t intend to until I finish med school, she about keeled over in shock. Not that she’s always got a man on her arm, but she just couldn’t believe that someone like me wouldn’t have someone at some point in her life. But I hadn’t. Mostly because I was really focused on academics and got labeled as a nerd in high school, and then I just sort of, got stuck in that frame of mind I guess. I don’t think I’m missing out on much though. From what Renee tells me, college guys are just as awkward and fumbling as high school ones.
“I haven’t found the right person to date,” I tell her. “You of all people should know how terrible the selection is here.”
Renee wrinkles her nose.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” she says, slumping a little. Then she straightens up. “But that’s not why I was asking!”
“So what was your reason?”
“Well, you know how you’re coming with me for Spring Break…? Well, I thought we could go a day early!”
It had taken a lot of convincing on Renee’s part to get me to go. It’s not that I hate the city, or I’m afraid of it or anything. It’s just I had a lot of schoolwork to get done. It wasn’t until she promised that I would at least get to study for a few days that I agreed to go. And I am excited. I come from a small town, smaller than this one, and I know New York will be so much more fun and exciting in comparison.
“Why would we go a day early?”
“So we can party,” she says excitedly. “We can get a room at the Four Seasons and go clubbing all night like I used to. No need to worry about my dad at all.”
Renee is the same age as me, but it doesn’t surprise me that she’s done this sort of thing before. I bet her parents were relieved when she ended up in this sleepy college town. We’ve got two bars, and they both close at 2 a.m. There’s definitely less ways to get in trouble here.
“Won’t it show up on your credit card?”
“Nope,” she says with a sunny smile. “Trust fund comes with my own account. My parents can’t snoop into it.”
I cast her a doubtful look.
“Come on,” she says, leaping off the bed and landing at my feet. “I’m begging you Em, just once, let’s go and have some fun without having to worry about things. I promise you it won’t turn out awful.”
I’m still dithering and she can tell.
“I won’t try to hook you up with anyone,” she continues, “and I’ll make up the lost time to you okay? In fact, I’ll even help you with this paper of yours.”
The thought of Renee actually sitting down and reading through this stuff is so funny that I have to crack a smile, and she does too. We both know that isn�
��t happening, but I can feel myself giving in.
“Okay, okay. We can go,” I tell her. “But if I do, and I hate it, you have to promise me never to try and make me ‘let the universe take charge’ again.”
“You got it Em!” she replies, jumping up and clapping her hands. “I promise you this is going to be fun, fun, fun! I know just the person to call too. I promise you, you’re never going to forget the night.”
And, as luck would have it, Renee is going to be right about that.
********
We both have morning and early afternoon classes, so it’s not until two that we hit the road. The drive to Manhattan is long, although we did get to sing about a million Taylor Swift songs together. The coolest thing though, was driving over the bridge and seeing that famous skyline. All those gleaming skyscrapers and buzzing activity on the streets got me all excited too. I can’t believe I’m really here.
“This is so cool,” I say, turning from the window to Renee. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Oh you haven’t seen anything yet,” she replies. “To really experience New York, you need to get out and walk the streets itself.”
In no time at all we arrive at the Four Seasons. A smartly dressed valet comes to take the keys to park Renee’s Audi and a bellhop takes our bags. I feel a little self-conscious about my scuffed luggage beside Renee’s LV branded luggage, but he treats mine just as carefully. We walk through the doors to a room with soaring ceilings and white stone that take my breath away. I don’t think I’ve ever been in such an elegant place. Ever. I know I shouldn’t just stop and stare like this, but I can’t help it.
Renee just walks through the place as if she’s seen it all before. Maybe she has. She’s been to twenty different countries already, and no doubt stayed in hotels as fine as this. I feel awkward about hanging around while she checks us in, so I take the time to call my mom and let her know that we’ve arrived safely.
“Come on,” Renee says when I hang up. “Let’s get ready.”
I head up with her to our rooms. The bellhop’s already gotten our bags there, and I walk through the huge rooms in awe. Renee’s gotten us a two room suite, with gorgeous views of the city and Central Park. The first thing I do is kick off my flats and flop starfish style onto the king size bed. The soft linens feel amazing, and I can’t help but giggle. I’m going to be living like a queen, at least for a night! There’s even a huge wooden desk that I could do my work on, although I won’t have the time.
I slowly push myself off the bed and wander towards the bathroom. It’s covered in marble, and the soaker tub looks enticing. I bet I’d even enjoy reading Kant in there. With a nice glass of wine… Too bad Renee won’t let that happen. Although chances are, Renee’s place is going to be just as nice if not nicer.
“Hey,” she says, popping her head through the door. “Want to order some room service? We’ll need to eat something so we have enough energy to last all night!”
I follow her to the living room and look over the menu. Everything sounds delicious, but I decide to stick with something I know, a penne pasta, while goes for a strip steak. I try not to look at the prices. I know Renee doesn’t care either, but a tiny bit of me is in sticker shock at the idea of a $30 plate. I can hear my mom’s voice saying ‘You can feed twelve if you made that at home!’ a mantra that she says every time we do end up eating out. It’s not that our family is poor, but she grew up in a family of seven and my grandparents grew up in the Depression too, which had a long lasting effect on them. My granddad has a whole garage full of stuff he’s kept just in case he’d need it because back in those days, people saved everything.
Once dinner’s all finished, we decide to get ready. We take a shower, curl our hair, put on our makeup, and of course, we put on our sexiest dresses. Here’s where Renee and I differ again. I put on a black, off the shoulder dress with an A-line hem. It’s light, it’s breezy, and it shows some skin. Good enough, right?
I walk into Renee’s bedroom, and she’s already shaking her head.
“What’s wrong with this?” I ask her. “I wore the same thing last weekend and you said it was hot!”
“It’s good enough for college,” she explains. “But here, there needs to be more ‘oomph’.”
She holds out slippery metallic dress to me.
“I brought this along just in case,” she says. “You’ll look fabulous in it.”
I take the dress from her doubtfully. Renee’s tall and willowy, with the kind of body that no amount of ice cream could make fat. She was a model at one point of course. So I had no clue how it was going to fit over my body. I’m curvier, softer, with just a little bit extra in my breasts and hips. Next to her I get a little insecure sometimes, but I wouldn’t say my body is horrible at all. Just more average. But I know for a fact that our body shapes are different enough that we’ve never shared clothes before.
“Just try it,” she says. “I’ll turn around.”
I pull off my dress and examine the dress, then take off my bra too. The dress has drape, surprisingly, and I think on Renee it would be airy and light, but it clings to my curves. It’s held up by a delicate chain that crisscrosses in the back, and the fabric dips between my cleavage. The metallic fabric is cold, and I shiver a little, my nipples tightening into points, but it also almost feels like water with the way it shimmers and shines in the light. It caresses my curves, the fabric giving me a soft glow that makes me look almost like a goddess. I look sexy, maybe even too sexy? I’m going to get attention, something that I’m not used to.
I look up and Renee’s beaming at me.
“That. Looks. Amazing. That dress is yours,” she declares. “It fits you perfectly! I love it.”
I look at her dress. It’s a beautiful lacy corset looking dress, black and nude, so it almost looks like she’s wearing nothing underneath the lace. We look so different, but I have no doubt we’re going to turn some heads in our clothes.
“I don’t know, Renee,” I begin to say.
She walks over to me and puts her hands on my shoulders.
“Come on. You look good. We’re going to do things my way tonight remember?” she pivots me towards the mirror. “This is the new you for tonight Emilia. Take a good look at her. She’s fabulous and gorgeous and fearless and she’s going to let all of New York know it.”
Nate
New York City. It maybe be loud, it might be a bit dirty, but it’s my home, and there’s nothing quite like returning to it. My family’s been here for generations, the history of the city intertwined with our own. Some would even go so far as to say that we built New York, and they wouldn’t be too far off the mark. The Lowell’s reach extended into everything from industry, to manufacturing, to mining, and of course politics. What else would all that money be good for if not for grabbing power? My grandfather would always say though I found it distasteful. Generations of squabbles and grudges have splintered the family wealth, but not our presence. Our names are plastered all over the city’s streets, buildings, schools and museum wings. Something my daughter has yet to understand, I think as I pick up my ringing phone and see her name.
“Hey dad, did you land safely?” she says chirpily. I’m surprised she’s calling me. These days all she does is text.
“Fine. Getting into the car now,” I tell her, handing over my luggage to the driver.
“Good. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow,” I confirm with her. “Drive safe.”
“Love you dad,” she says, and hangs up.
Renee. What the hell am I going to do with her? She’s switched to a new major every year, and now that she’s got her grandfather’s trust fund in her pocket, I don’t see a graduation in sight. It’s our fault really. My ex-wife and I had an acrimonious divorce, and by the end we couldn’t even be in the same room together. It was a case of marrying too early. I met her at Yale, in Economics 101. A year later, against the warnings from my pa
rents, we married, and had Renee. Everything fell apart before graduation. She hightailed it back to her family in California, and Renee spent the next few years of her life shunted back and forth across the country before heading off to a succession of boarding schools, none able to hold her down.
It was during these years that I was working hard to rebuild the family fortune. We had incredible growth, and I was needed more and more. I ended up spoiling her to ease my guilt, and combined with the Lowell stubbornness, Renee is hell bent on doing things her way, by which she means nothing at all. Her mother’s exasperated beyond belief, but I’m not quite ready to give up on my daughter. Sure she’s had plenty of time to try and figure things out, and yeah, the money makes it way easier to put it off, but she’s got a good heart, and lots of confidence. One day she’ll figure it out, and when she does, she’s going to make a very big mark.
To be honest, she reminds me a lot of myself when I was younger. I dicked around too, sleeping around, drinking, partying, squandering my money until my dad cut me off, packed me off to Yale. It was a shock for sure, but I came out better for it. It gave me the discipline to found my own private equity firm with my best friend and roommate. I’m coming back from opening our third office in China. Hm, maybe that’s why dad did the same thing with Renee too, I muse as we pull away from the curb and back to the penthouse.
It’s a short drive back home, but I can’t relax and enjoy it. My phone’s pinging continuously and I’ve got a meeting tonight with a new company that’s revolutionizing how we record videos with our phones by letting users add masks, filters, and extra’s like glasses or hats or whatever they could want onto their video. It does nothing for me personally, but when I told Renee, she explained that it would be a hit and to snap it up. So tonight I’m going to meet the whiz kid who’s made this a reality. Hopefully it’ll be the first in a long string of technologies out of this kid. It’s not our thing to bring on individuals, but investments are investments whatever the form they take.
We’re heading to Atlantica, one of the premier nightclubs in New York. Normally I’d have a business dinner at Foglia, but the guy’s twenty-two and a geek, so he’s probably held dreams of drinking thousand dollar champagne and meeting hot women in his mother’s basement for years now. Whatever it takes to secure the client, I think as I call up the limo, yet another request of his, and head around to pick up the client. I never understood the appeal of music too loud that you can’t hear yourself think and fumbling around in strobe lights, but maybe that’s just my age.
