Consumed: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by Elizabeth Knox

  One day I’m sure I will come out to my family, but there hasn’t ever been a right time. In the back of my mind, I suppose I’m waiting for some sort of golden moment, when I know I’ve made them so extremely proud. This is why racing is so important to me, because the second I get in the car and start flying around the track I know my dad will be so proud of me. Regardless of my sexuality, I’ll be a Storm.

  At least, that’s the hope.

  Who knows? He could disown me right after I tell him. We did grow up in the backwoods of Louisiana, and our neighbors were all about hunting gators, praising Jesus, and drinking moonshine. To say I didn’t grow up in a very open-minded area is putting things lightly.

  I finish sliding the meal prep containers in the fridge with their assigned Post-It Notes taped on their sides and shut the door. There’s nothing else to do here, so I go grab my jacket from the hook and slide it over my shoulders. It’s mid-January and lately it’s been in the mid-fifties because we’ve been having a cold front storming through. I’m a huge fan of the warmer months, so I’ll bundle up however I need to right now. Zipping my jacket up, I grab my purse and head for the door.

  After I open it, I close it behind me and tap the lock button on the door. Clay’ has some sort of fancy schmancy lock. It can recognize fingerprints, retinas, and more. Feels like a Men in Black rip off to me, but whatever makes him happy.

  Clayton has a penthouse that overlooks the lake, so he has to be a bit extra about certain things. I make my way down the hall and press the button for the elevator to come up. After a few moments the doors open and I walk inside. Instrumental music fills my ears as the elevator takes me down to the parking garage. Before I know it, I’m on my way to a small café called Justine’s. It’s one of my favorite places to eat in the entire city. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like mixing life in Paris with the heart of the south.

  I manage to get a parking spot a block away from Justine’s, so I walk to the restaurant to find Poppy already seated outside on the mustard colored booth. Across from her is a chair, so I pull it out and sit down. “You managed to get here early,” I mutter with a laugh.

  “The early bird gets the worm. Isn’t that the saying? And in my case, I got the last glass of sauvignon blanc. Thank God.” She bugs her eyes out, giving me the first indication she’s had one hell of a day.

  “Let me guess. Clay’ was micromanaging the hell out of you?” I might’ve experienced the same thing a time or two, which led to me not working at the gym for long. I’m still a partial owner, but I don’t make it a point to head over there every day. Lord knows I’d never be able to stand it.

  “Does he think I’m an idiot? I mean, really? I have a degree in fitness management and have how many physical training certifications? I’ve done what I need to prove I know what the hell I’m doing, yet he wants me to start at the bottom like everyone else who’s ever worked at the gym? Fuck that. I mean, really? He has me sanitizing equipment, Gem’. No one else at the gym came in with this much schooling and I can guarantee it. All Dad, Clay’, and Brax’ have wanted to hire is ex-cons, minorities, and people who are desperate for a job. They never cared about training, degrees, or certifications. Not once, not until people were already working at the gym. I took initiative to get a start on my education and graduate with honors and . . . what . . . I’m still supposed to sanitize equipment all day? Screw that.” Poppy rolls her eyes and downs the rest of her wine.

  “Did you forget that was the last glass they had?”

  She shakes her head, “No, I took an Uber here, which means you can drive us back home.”

  Rolling my eyes, I have no doubts I’ll agree to what she’s said. “Fine, but you have to be the sober one next time. Got it?”

  “Yes, I got it.” Poppy sticks her tongue out at me before turning her body to grab the attention of the nearest waiter. She throws her hands up in the air and one comes dashing over.

  “Is there something I can do for you, miss?”

  “Yes, I need a double shot of vodka, stat.”

  He smiles sweetly, “Of course. And for your friend here?”

  “A Coke would be fine.”

  “Certainly. I’ll be back with your drinks in a few minutes.”

  “Thanks so much,” Poppy smirks at him, causing the man to smile a little brighter as he walks off.

  Poppy and I have both been blessed with beauty, practically the spitting image of our mother. My hair is almost as white as snow and goes to about my shoulders. Though I often curl it and put a bit of product in to give it more volume, so it doesn’t quite touch my shoulders when all is said and done. Poppy on the other hand has honey blonde hair that flows down to her mid-back, with a dash of a caramel swirl through it. I remember our mom having hair like that when I was little. Poppy was about three months old when she died. Hell, I think the day of the race was the first time she left Poppy after she was born. Jesus, the world can have such cruelty.

  Poppy throws her arm over the back of the booth and tilts her head, furrowing her brows as she stares me down. “What’s with you? You’re all quiet.”

  I shut my eyes for a split second and sigh, “Nothing, really. I’m just not looking forward to flying out to Los Angeles tomorrow for this conference.” One of the best parts of being an owner of a gym is the requirement to go to conferences once or twice a year. It’s where we get to see the latest new equipment, techniques, and more. Of course, when I say it’s the best parts of being an owner, I’m lying through my teeth. I hate it. It’s agonizingly boring and I can’t stand it at all, being stuffed in the room with total strangers, especially when most of them try to use the conference to get a couple one-night stands out of it.

  “I offered to go, but no, I’m not as trustworthy as the prized pony.” Poppy grumbles.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I bark out at her.

  “Come on, you know there is nothing you could do that would upset them. You’re practically perfect in their eyes. I think it’s why they’ve given me so much hell all these years. Remember when I was dating Patrick and Dad screamed across the house, asking me why I couldn’t be more like you?” Poppy takes her arm away from around the booth.

  “You mean the dude who almost got you arrested? If it wasn’t for the fact that cop was a mega fan of Dad’s you would’ve gone to jail, Poppy! He had marijuana in his freaking car. Damn!” I want to scream at her, tell her this is why Dad even said something like that. But what she doesn’t realize is if I really believed I could get away with everything, I would’ve told him who I am by now.

  Who I really am. That his baby girl is a lesbian, and she isn’t ashamed of it, but she’s terrified she’ll lose her entire family.

  Chapter Four

  Keira

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Do you really think you can ship me off to some addiction center?!” Sasha snarls at me with all her might, not understanding I’m trying to help her. Instead, she sees me as the enemy.

  I raise my hand up in defeat, showing her, I’m not going to be confrontational in a physical sense. She’s already begun pacing the room, like a raging bull ready to tear down an entire crowd. I know I need to be patient and smart with how I word everything right now.

  “You need to go, Sasha. Look at yourself. I mean, look at what you’re turning into.” Regina, one of the Corporate Cares employees speaks up. I shut my eyes in frustration, knowing she was only trying to help, but what she’s done is quite the opposite.

  “You have some nerve. Everyone uses things to cope with life, because guess what, it’s horrible. I mean, look at where we work. A place for orphans. These poor little creatures who’ve been abandoned, abused, or whatever their personal situations are . . . God, why is the world so cruel? Why must things always be like this? I don’t understand! I don’t understand any of this!” Sasha falls to the ground of the small office building on the property the boy’s home is located. We’re in a room, just the four of us, safely away fr
om prying ears, while Morris stands guard at the boy’s home. He wanted to be here with us, but I assured him we could handle Sasha. Her shoulders shake as she sobs and she wraps her arms around herself, which I’m assuming is to provide some sort of comfort.

  I begin to walk over to her when pressure wraps around my forearm, and the first thing I see is Mason’s gold watch. He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t get close to her.”

  Ripping my arm away, I shoot him a glare and go over to where Sasha is kneeling, crying her eyes out on the floor. “Sasha,” I say her name in a cool tone, careful not to scare her. I don’t know what’s going on with her, but I’m certain something is going on. I’ve known her for years now, and she’s never been an irresponsible woman until the last six weeks or so, right after she took a two-week medical leave. I’m not allowed to ask questions, but I’m certain something happened, and from the looks of it, it couldn’t have been good.

  I don’t know what exactly takes over me, but I feel the need to touch her, to place my hand on her shoulder and offer her some sort of comfort. I expect her to whip her head around and start screaming at me, to tell me to never touch her again, maybe even to slam her fists against my chest . . . but she doesn’t do that.

  Instead the tears pour over her cheeks in an effortless flow. Her chest rises and falls and for the first time since I’ve seen her, I see her for how she feels—broken.

  “Whatever’s going on, you aren’t alone, Sasha. You’re not just my coworker. You’re my friend, and I want you to know that. I’m here because you’re my friend and I can see you suffering. I know you’re crying out for someone to help you, but my position with Corporate Cares also complicates things. You know I can’t have you working here while you’re ill. But I won’t fire you, okay? I just want you to go get some help and come back when you’re feeling up to it. We’ll get the paperwork sorted so you’re taking an extended medical leave. This way we’ll hire a temp, and your job will still be waiting for you. Okay?” I take my hand and wipe away the stream of tears.

  “I’m so sorry for what I said to them, how I scared those poor kids . . . I’m just so angry, so angry at the world . . .” Sasha sobs.

  The woman is pulling at my heartstrings more than she knows.

  I nod, coming from a completely understanding place. “I know you are, and it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling right now. Allow these emotions to flow through you and release them. Don’t keep them pent up. There’s no need for it.”

  Sasha’s face goes cold like she’s seen a ghost, and then she cries over and over again. Her cries turn into something I think you’d only hear from a wounded animal. “He left me because I kept the baby and then it died. It died, Keira . . . and I don’t know what to do with all the pain.”

  Dear God.

  I’ve only heard horror stories about miscarriage, but I’m empathetic to the agony that must be coursing through her. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around her body and hold her close. “Just breathe. That’s all you have to do right now. I have you a spot in the nation’s best addiction clinic. I promise we will get you help, Sasha. You aren’t alone, and don’t ever think you are. You will make it through this, and I know it feels like you won’t right now, but don’t focus on the future. Take it one day, one hour, one moment, or even one second at a time. That’s all you have to focus on. Do you hear me?” My voice chokes up near the end of what I’m saying, but Sasha’s continuous nod against my shoulder makes me feel like I’ve done something.

  I could’ve fired her today.

  I could’ve not given a damn about her, but I didn’t.

  Because at Corporate Cares, we actually care.

  That’s my job here, to not only find qualified individuals, but those who would’ve acted in the same manner I have tonight.

  Chapter Five

  Gemma

  Today is going to be a great day. That’s the phrase I keep telling myself as I’m on this airplane, white knuckling the arms of my seat. Only my family knows how terrified I am of flying, but I’m far too stubborn to call my primary care physician and let them know this fact. If she knew, she’d probably prescribe me two Xanax. One for the flight to Los Angeles, and one for the flight back to New Orleans.

  Inhaling deeply, I try my best to not listen to the way my heart beats heavily in my chest. It feels like the cabin of the plane is closing in around me, and before I know it, I’m about two seconds from spiraling into the world’s worst panic attack.

  “Breathe,” my brother, Brax’, shows up out of nowhere. Despite his bad boy look, he’s the most zen person I know. Brax’ has travelled the world, spent time in monasteries in Asia, slept in huts in Zimbabwe, and studied reiki with some of the best masters in the world. And he does this all in the off season. But Brax’, he’s always thrown our entire family for a loop. He doesn’t race stock cars like our dad or Clayton does. Trent’ was the first one in our family to sway from racing stock cars, diving straight into exotics . . . but man, Brax’ had to really swerve left from the rest of the family.

  He places his hand on my arm as he takes a seat in the open seat beside me. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask while gasping for air.

  “I saw you were the only one planned to come on this trip, so I figured I’d tag along.” Bullshit. He didn’t just decide to tag along with me out of nowhere.

  “Brax’, don’t play games with me. What’re you really doing here?”

  “Fine, you caught me. Trying to save you from passing out on a plane. I mean Gem’, c’mon . . . why didn’t you just drive?”

  “By the time I thought about it, it was too late. Now I’m stuck on this deathtrap and there’s nothing I can do about it.” I mutter, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. I count to five with every inhale and exhale, hoping this shit will work, but just like always it doesn’t seem to help me much.

  He gives me an encouraging squeeze, “Just keep breathing. You aren’t alone and I’m here for you, okay? I’m here with you every step of the way.”

  Brax’ is only a little over a year older than me but our dad jokingly referred to us as the twins, because we were always glued to the other’s hip. I don’t know why, but for some reason the two of us have been so much closer than the rest of our siblings.

  “Okay,” I nod, agreeing to do what he’s asked.

  “Just close your eyes and breathe in and out for me, alright? I have an idea, and I think it’ll work.” Just to appease him, I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat.

  Shuffling people boarding the plane can be heard, as well as a baby in the back of the plane who just can’t be settled, then the small chitchat of other passengers. Suddenly, softness is sliding over my ears and I realize Brax’ is putting some sort of headphones on me. The sounds of everyone on the plane begin to become muffled and the sounds of water dripping can be heard while someone whispers, guiding me through the anxiety I’m feeling in this moment.

  Brax’ would be the first person I’d ever tell. Hell, he might be the only one who doesn’t disown me. I don’t ever see him being the type of man who can’t stand lesbians. He’s far too accepting. I’m safe with him, and if he’s going to be on this trip with me . . . alone . . . maybe it’s time I tell my brother the biggest secret I’ve been keeping from him.

  I woke up just as the plane was landing, immediately joking how our deaths were imminent. Brax’ thought it was funny, but even I know he wouldn’t admit it. The only thing he was concerned about is if his little test worked. It did, so I might have to try this again next time. I’d just have to make sure someone I trust is sitting beside me. No way would I do this if I was on a plane alone. That’s just begging for trouble.

  “When does the conference start again?” Brax asks as we’re on our way to pick up our luggage.

  “Tomorrow at ten I think. I have the itinerary on my laptop, so in the morning we can go over it, divide and conquer if you’re okay with that?”

  He nods, “Yeah, I was about to suggest th
e same thing. There are multiple vendors and it makes more sense if we split up. I have some classes I’d like to get certified in while we’re here.”

  I nod, “Okay, actually, I do think they’re having a mixer at the hotel bar around two today, so we can meet people. An ice breaker so to speak.”

  Brax’ chuckles lowly, “Of course they are. Any excuse to get sloshed in the middle of the day.”

  Brax’ is unlike most people. He’s sober by choice. He doesn’t have a problem or anything, but he prefers to stay sober, not much of a fan of losing control, I suppose. “Will you come to the mixer with me?”

  He looks at me like I’ve asked him the stupidest question. “Obviously, I need to save you from the old pervert bodybuilders who manage to weasel their way into these conferences. They’re not even owners, I don’t know how they manage to get access.”

  “We both know how. They know the right people,” I hate reminding him how corrupt the world is, but it’s in every aspect of life. Whether it’s politics or the gym. We’ll never be able to rid ourselves of it.

  We continue following the rest of the passengers to where our bags are and wait around the baggage claim for our suitcases. I twiddle my thumbs and look at my brother, the way he clenches his jaw as he stares, surveying the area.

  “I’m gay.” It comes out before I even realize what I’ve said, and his face shifts into a shock filled expression, but then he laughs, and he laughs hard.

  “Only took you two years to tell me.”

  I furrow my brows, “What?” How could he have known?

  “I figured it out two years ago, when we went to an afterparty for one of Clay’s big wins. You kept staring at this hot redhead on the dance floor.”