OPEN YOUR HEART: Material Girls 1

by Henry, Sophia

  “I—”

  “Second, I agree about not missing the auction. They’ve gotta have another night off soon, right?” She drops her gaze to her phone again.

  I nod. “They usually play a few days in a row and have at least one off in between, for rest and drive time.”

  “Maybe you should call him?” Emily suggests.

  She’s right. I should have my phone in my hand right now. But it seems like one of those things I should apologize for to his face. And I honestly don’t even know how he’d react if I called him.

  “After the auction. Once that’s in the books, I’ll call him and tell him how stupid I was,” I say, hashing out the plan in my head. “And if he won’t take my call, I’ll go to him—wherever he is—and beg for forgiveness.”

  “On your knees,” Emily adds. “Definitely be on your knees.”

  I roll my eyes, but make a mental note to give head if necessary.

  “You’re so crude.” Maddie scowls.

  “Oh, come on! Doesn’t Trent like blow jobs?” Emily teases. “I would’ve thought the stick up his ass would make it extra enjoyable.”

  Maddie slams her ice cream carton on the table and stalks out of the room.

  She’s been a different person since Trent moved back to Charlotte from Georgetown. She’s been moody and distant and sad like I’ve never seen from her before. Maddie is usually bubbly and energetic. And she never would have eaten an entire pint of ice cream in one sitting. I think they had a better relationship from a distance. Maybe she’s finally opening her eyes to what a controlling asshole he is.

  21

  Austin

  “What’s going on, Austin,” Mom asks.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t nothing me. You never call me this much when you’re on the road.”

  “Feeling a bit homesick and I wanted to hear your voice.”

  “I know something’s wrong. You’re mopey and you haven’t mentioned Liz once.”

  “No reason to mention her. She broke up with me.”

  Part of me wanted Mom to ask. I didn’t want to call her crying about Liz breaking up with me. I honestly thought the whole thing was a weird fluke. I’ve been replaying the things she said in my head. And I just couldn’t comprehend some of it.

  “What?”

  “We got in a fight at the festival. It sucked, but I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. But I didn’t hear from her for a few days, and when I did, she comes over to tell me it’s over. All this bullshit about being from different worlds and not being able to give her the life she’s used to. Then she started saying crazy shit about me taking money from her father to break up with her. I have no clue where she even got that idea. I’ve never had a conversation with her father.”

  “Wait. She said her father gave you money to break up with her?”

  “Yup.” It still sounds so ridiculous, I can’t even believe I told Mom. I just don’t know how to process it.

  Mom is uncharacteristically silent on her end.

  “Mom?” I ask tentatively, knowing that what I’m about to suggest could piss her off royally. “Did Harris Commons offer you money to break us up?”

  “Austin Charles Williams! What kind of person do you think I am?”

  Shit.

  It's not like I believed she did it, but I had to ask because I don’t know why Liz would say something so absolutely outlandish to me.

  “Sorry, Mom. You know I don’t think you’re the kind of person who would accept something like that. I’m just searching for answers.”

  She’s quiet again. It’s concerning, because I expect more anger after suggesting something so offensive to her character.

  “Harris Commons offered me money a few weeks ago.”

  I straighten up in bed. “What?” I ask loudly. “Why?”

  It must be a little too loud, because Fozzie glances over from the bed beside me, giving me a dirty look before jerking a pillow over his head and burrowing into the covers.

  “As compensation for the business idea that he stole from your father. And for a clothing line that I helped design,” Mom says as if I’m supposed to understand that at all.

  “What in the world are you talking about?” I’m so confused. Mom could barely put together my homemade Halloween costumes. How could she design a clothing line?

  “Your father and Harris met in college. They became friendly, not necessarily friends, but they had some business classes together. Your father always had ideas for businesses. He was brilliant, but didn’t have the financial means to pursue them. That’s where Harris came in. They brainstormed the concept of the Commons Department Store together. Your dad even came up with the slogan because he knew Harris’s family would be the ones funding the business. They asked me to help design a chic yet cheap clothing line to start it off. I was sewing a lot of my own clothes back then. I’ll admit, I was never the best designer, but I knew where to get fabrics and put together a cute line that wouldn’t cost too much for the business and the consumers.”

  Mom pauses. Which gives my swirling brain a chance to catch up to this what the fuck moment. My dad helped come up with the Commons concept? How did I not know this?

  “We were naive and trusting back then. Stupid, is what I call it now. We thought we were working with Harris. It never even crossed our minds to protect ourselves with a contract or something written to state that we were cocreators on the ideas. We put together the concepts and gave him the sketches for the line. He took all of it to his father to get a loan to start the store.” Mom sighs. “And that’s when everything changed. We never heard from him after that. He wouldn’t return our calls, wouldn’t meet with us. He started the store without us. Without ever giving us any credit or compensation. We certainly didn’t have the means to fight him. Who could fight the Commons family? They had all the money and influence behind them. We had nothing.”

  The animosity Mom’s had for Commons stores for all these years becomes crystal clear. Why didn’t she ever say anything?

  “So, after almost thirty years, Harris Commons offered you money to compensate you out of the blue. That didn’t seem odd?”

  “It absolutely seemed odd! I almost fell off my chair when I got the call. But I thought—hoped—that he might have found his conscience because you were dating his daughter. How could someone look into the eyes of the son of the person, who created the concept where he made millions, and not feel any remorse? When he offered, I sure as hell wasn’t going to turn down the money, Austin. I never imagined he’d—”

  “I’m not blaming you, Mom. I think you should take every fucking penny. He probably lowballed you anyway.”

  “The amount we agreed on doesn’t matter. It was never about the money for your father and I. It was about the deception.”

  “I get that. Totally. But the timing of his change of heart is suspicious.”

  “I’ll bet that bastard told his vile wife he used the money to pay me to break you up. She never would have agreed to give me compensation for the business. Cookie Commons is a different breed. She didn’t come from money, but she sure hoards the fortune she has now.”

  “Fuck,” I groan.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Austin. I was surprised by the contact, but I didn’t realize he would ever do something so awful to his own daughter. Just to get her to stop dating you? What a sad state of affairs when humans put so much weight on wealth and not a person’s character.”

  “Well, from what you just told me, they don’t have a whole lot of character in the first place. Money can’t buy class.”

  “Austin, have you wondered why she would believe that about you?”

  I sigh and scrub my face with one hand. “I have. I’ve been going over it a million times, Mom. First, I was offended and pissed. But then I was just perplexed. Liz has a heart of gold. She’s not like her parents. So I honestly can’t see her believing I’d actually take money to break up with her. It’s like she had some other t
hought behind it.”

  “Do you think she thought she was helping you? Maybe she thought you’d be better off without her?”

  “Why would she think that?”

  “She’s embarrassed by her family, Austin. How would you react if someone did that to you?”

  Shit. Did Liz really think she was doing me a favor by breaking up with me? Was she trying to shield me from her deceitful family’s bullshit?

  It makes a hell of a lot more sense than her really believing that I would take money to break up with her.

  “Do you want to get involved with a family like the Commons?” Mom asks softly. “Is she worth it?”

  “Absolutely,” I answer with zero hesitation. “I’d let someone rip out my vocal chords if it meant being with her again. I don’t care about her shady-ass family. She’s nothing like them. She’s everything to me. Absolutely everything.”

  “As long as you’re aware of what you’re getting into.”

  “I know. I can’t say I like it, but I know.”

  I may not have the net worth or the all-American look of the guys Liz’s parents expect her to be with, but I have integrity.

  Liz and I were brought to each other for a reason. If we can filter out the bullshit brought on by others, we can get through anything.

  I shove the covers off and run to the bathroom. It’s about time to show Liz that we’re meant to be together. All we need is each other. All of this bullshit is ridiculous. I’ll always be here for her. I already saved her once. And I’ll do it again.

  22

  Liz

  I’ve never felt so out of place surrounded by so many familiar faces.

  I should be the belle of the ball, working the room of the fundraiser I started, but I don’t feel like talking to anyone. They aren’t all bad people—on the contrary—everyone in attendance has generously donated a large amount of money to be here. I’m just annoyed at what a night like this represents. Being at a fundraiser like this is something I used to enjoy. Something I used to look forward to. Picking out a fabulous gown and getting my hair and makeup done with Mama and Maddie was one of those silly pleasures I actually looked forward to.

  But that was then, and this is now.

  Tonight, I’m bored and annoyed. When I started brainstorming this event a few years ago, I wanted something small, but Mama insisted I had to go big in order to bring out the power players. She even set me up with Ariana Rogers—event planner to the stars. The silent auction boasts prizes like private-jet excursions and a weekend in St. Bart’s. The meal is a seven-course dinner from a Michelin-star chef Daddy knows, who flies in from New York City.

  I’m excited that the event draws such a great crowd, but I can’t help think about how much money we’d be able to give if I didn’t have to waste so much to get the people with money to be here? I’m torn between appreciation—which I absolutely have—to the sick feeling that many of the people are here tonight for the laughing and dancing and drinking, and barely register the reason they’re here—the families who benefit from their generosity who are struggling. Is it just a donation tax credit for them? Or another philanthropic cause they can brag about at the country club while drinking “chaahh-mps” (the annoying nickname some people use for champagne)?

  I hope not.

  Speaking of chaahh-mps, I grab my fourth glass of bubbly from the teetering serving tray that passes me. If I can’t beat them, might as well join them.

  “Do you really need another?” The sultry voice of my favorite singer rings out from behind me. I spin and come face to face with Austin.

  The sight of him makes me gasp. Not just because I’m surprised that he’s right here in front of me when he’s supposed to be in DC for a show tomorrow, but also because he looks absolutely magnificent.

  He stands tall, confident, and absolutely flawless in a tuxedo, perfectly fitted to his muscular frame. His hair is gelled; luscious pink lips are surrounded by a freshly trimmed ten o’clock shadow. He looks impeccable—like he wears a penguin suit every day.

  Austin takes the flute from my hand and brings it to his mouth, tipping it back and draining it in one slug. Champagne wets his lips which makes me want to sweep my tongue over them to taste him one last time.

  I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s always handsome. But I’ve never seen this side—dashingly dressed to the nines. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable at all. He looks as laid-back as he does in a white T-shirt and leather pants.

  What I wouldn’t give to see him in leather pants again. To drop to my knees and slide those pants down his thighs.

  “What are you thinking about, Miss Honey?” he asks, jolting me out of the lewd fantasy.

  My eyes must have dropped, because he lifts my chin with his fingers, tilting my face up so our gazes meet.

  “You don’t want to know.” I shake my head and turn away as I feel the heat rise from my core to my cheeks.

  He takes a step closer, places his hands on my hips, and dips his head to my ear. “I do, but there’s one thing I want to know more than what you were just thinking about.”

  “What’s that?” I ask tentatively. My heart revs in my chest. I feel like it will carry me away if I’m not careful. I feel unprepared, even though I planned on leaving first thing in the morning to meet up with him in DC to let him know how much I need him.

  “I want to know if you love me. If you ever loved me.”

  “I—” The words stick in my throat.

  My heart pounds against my chest. Austin is here, standing right in front of me, asking me if I ever loved him. I’m saddened that my ignorance and insecurity caused him to have any doubt.

  Of course I love you! You’re the only man I’ve ever loved. I want to scream, but I hold back. I’m trying to suppress the overwhelming urge to throw myself against his chest and wrap my arms around him. I love this man with every piece of my soul, but I hold back because I can’t understand how he’d want to be with me after I accused him of taking money from my father.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I just told you why I’m here.” He sets the empty glass on another passing tray. The servers don’t have faces, hidden by ornate purple, green, and gold Mardi Gras masks which follow the theme of the party. Each one mocking my misery as they stroll by, fake with plastic smiles, jovial as Bourbon Street on Fat Tuesday.

  “This benefit has been sold out for months. How in the world did you get in?”

  “I was invited. Emily said your band canceled, and I couldn’t let you use a shitty DJ you found last minute for such an important event.” He looks over his shoulder toward the stage where Emily is talking to the DJ Ariana found last-minute. Behind them there’s a flurry of activity as Jimmy from Austin’s band sets up equipment. “Lucky for you, I happened to be free tonight.”

  “Austin, you should be in—?” I’m totally confused at what’s happening right now.

  “Right here with you is the most important place for me to be. We need to get the bullshit misunderstanding out of the way before we can move on.” Austin grabs my hand. “You were right, my mom did take money from your father, but it wasn’t to get me to break up with you; it was for a bunch of shit that happened years ago.”

  “Yeah, I—” I close my eyes and shake my head, ready to explain.

  But Austin keeps talking, “Not saying your family isn’t shady as fuck, because your mom actually did ask your dad to pay us off, but that’s not what we took money for.”

  “I know. Maddie told me.” I reach up to brush my hand through my hair, but stop when I remember it’s being held back by an antique silver comb.

  “Did you really believe that I could be swayed into breaking up with you over some cash?”

  “I wasn’t thinking straight. I wasn’t feeling like the best version of myself at that point, and I didn’t know what to believe, Austin.”

  “I get that. You come from a family who thinks they can control people with threats and bribes, so it makes sen
se.”

  I nod. Because it’s true and it usually works. Most of the people my father bribes can’t resist the money. The rich get richer and the poor—well, the poor get a desperately needed windfall.

  “My family doesn’t work that way. My mom isn’t desperate enough for money to be that shitty of a person. But she will accept compensation for an idea that she and my father should have been compensated for years ago.”

  His words slice through me like a double-edged sword. An insult to my family, capped with the insinuation that I think his mom is a horrible person.

  “I know, Austin. I know my family plays in a totally different league.”

  Out of the side of my eye, I notice that we’ve gathered an audience. Curious eyes watch with intent interest. The elevator-style dinner music blends with the laughter and chatter in the room, but in our vicinity the noise has decreased dramatically.

  My parents are around here somewhere, shmoozing with someone. I’m sure they’ve seen the crowd gather and they’ll be at my side at any moment. They’ll be pissed when they realize that Austin and I are talking about this in public, causing a scene at an event attended by so many of their friends. There’s a reason Harris Commons does all of his business behind closed doors.

  “When you left me I was shocked. Heartbroken. Pissed. So completely pissed. I couldn’t believe you would just walk away, out of the blue, with no warning. It was a complete slap in the face.

  “Then I talked to my mom and she explained what happened. And right away the flip in my brain switched from anger to confusion. Did you break up with me because you thought giving me up would be better for me?”

  I bite back tears as I nod. I hate coming across as such an insecure idiot, but that’s the way I portrayed myself, so I have to face the consequences.

  “I think you did that because you love me. You thought your sacrifice was worth the pain.” He pauses. I open my mouth to respond, but he continues before I can utter a sound. “And that’s a fucked-up way of thinking.”