by J D Worth
Violet holds up several bottles of foundation, matching one to my skin tone. “I have a summer job with the local traveling theater in this area. I handle the costumes and makeup. This is stage foundation. The thicker makeup will cover everything. I used the same stuff on our friend earlier tonight to cover his tattoos so he could bartend. The lights upstairs are also dimmed for the reception.”
I glance down at the ripped dress and blush at my exposure. The rip has given my breasts the actual breathing room they need.
Violet notices. “The dress only needs a few stitches. I always keep an emergency sewing kit in my bag because of my job.” She adds a small smile. An oversized clock ticks away in my mind, signaling my distress as the night wears on. “I love designer clothing. This is Chanel, right?”
I say, “After my mother died, I didn’t bother with fashion. I left the task to the stylists. My new stepmother”—I shudder at the term—“attacked the issue by staging a fashion war. She only cares about name-brand recognition. But I love how Coco Chanel was a revolutionary feminist who liberated women from the tight fashion standards of the time, making casual chic the norm still to this day.” I peek up from heavy eyelids. “Umm, I rant whenever I’m stressed.”
Violet fiddles with the material, appreciating the piecing of the dress. “I aspire to be a clothing designer one day, so I follow the latest trends. I’ve never seen this design before in any of the magazines. The dress is so chic.”
“This is haute couture. Georgina went to Paris and snagged the design from the runway. She sent the sample dresses to the design house in New York and demanded customized fitting for her wedding party.”
Violet’s eyes flash wide. “Very few people can actually do that.”
“When she started dating my father, her name landed at the top of the list. You wouldn’t believe the designers who trip over themselves to dress her.”
Violet’s voice perks up, asking, “Which ones?”
“All of them,” I reply.
Violet sputters out a cough. “You’ve obviously met a few designers. Do they dress you as well?”
“Mostly for key events like the Met Gala.”
Violet’s eye gaze over as she wipes her brow. “You’ve attended the Met Gala?”
“Several times.” I shrug.
Payton chuckles as she asks, “Violet, is Chanel the designer who popularized pants for women?”
Violet grins. “Yes, that’s why Coco’s my fashion icon. See, you’re gaining fashion sense by listening to me.”
I share, “Most of my business suits are Chanel because they’re made to fit a woman’s body, not the other way around.”
Violet stops and asks, “You wear business suits?”
“All the time.”
Violet shrugs. “I guess that’s city life. All of the commotion in Haven these last few weeks is because of your father’s wedding reception?” Violet is good at keeping the conversation light.
“Yes, and I still have to make an appearance for photos. No one would believe my side of things, no matter what condition I showed up in.” I chew on the other side of my lip. My anxiety spills over despite my best efforts of quelling my emotions. “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” Payton prods, aiming her hazel eyes in my direction. Her eyebrows take a sharp downward turn. “I hope you’re not one of those women who makes up with him in a week.”
“Payton!” Violet stomps her foot.
“No,” I state in a firm voice. “He’s my grandmother’s idea of a perfect gentleman. She expects me to date him. I’m not sure if what happened would change her position.”
“No tears?” Payton asks, noting the absence of red-rimmed eyes and streaked mascara. I shake my head no. “Good. He doesn’t deserve them.” Violet whips her head to Payton who ignores her by gathering up my fallen hair. “I can fix your hair. I do my sister’s all the time. She wears her up almost in this same trendy twist when she goes out with her new fancy doctor boyfriend.”
“Please. I always pull my hair back in a clip or pony tail.” Payton removes the hidden bobby pins from deep inside my hair. She manages the loose strands together and twists my hair up while adding the supporting pins back in place. She slides the diamond hairpins to their original location on each side of my head.
Violet moves on to my dress. Instead of forcing the material back together, she makes quick work of using the rip as a clever design hack. I watch in amazement while she hems both sides, creating a lovely v that accentuates my breasts.
“Wow, that’s an even better fit than the original. That would be the sample dress I tried on, which my stepmother then ordered two sizes smaller,” I mumble. Violet and Payton exchange looks. “You don’t know my stepmother.”
“Don’t forget her lips.” Payton reminds Violet. I set the ice pack down to give her access as she mixes a custom lip color. “My sister taught me a few tricks of the medical trade to help tend to our boys.”
“Your boys?”
Payton says, “Cal, Mace, Jax, Trent, and Colt. Our guys fight too often. Ice helps reduce swelling. You should apply ice to your sprains over the next few days and keep them elevated.” She flashes a quick supportive smile while dropping two aspirin into my palm.
Violet fills my lips a shade darker to hide the swelling. Glimpsing the wall clock, I can’t believe how much time has passed. I must return to the reception before my absence is noted. Lilith will first seek out Chaz to ask him my whereabouts, but he’s absent as well. Chaz had too much to drink, so she may assume he’s in his room, sleeping the night off.
“Your shoes!” Violet says.
Payton removes the ice from my ankle, unveiling a swollen mess. I’m quick to ask, “What shoe size do you guys wear?” Hearing a size seven and eight back, I offer, “Violet, I’ll trade you a pair of strappy Christian Louboutins in a size seven for your flip-flops. There is no way I can wear those heels with my twisted ankle. Mace is going to retrieve the shoes, so keep them. My other shoes won’t work either.” I’m going barefoot for most of my stay and hardly packed any footwear.
“You want to trade two thousand dollar designer shoes for two dollar clearance bin flip-flops I picked up last fall?” Violet asks. “Are you plumb crazy?”
“You’re doing me the favor here.”
“Sold!” Violet slides the flip-flops on my feet. I ease upward, trying to hide the strain in my face. “Beware, they aren’t broken in yet. I wore them the first time tonight.”
“Which way should I go? It’s getting late. I have to be back now.”
Payton says, “Up the hall and stick to the right staircase. That will take you to the kitchen, outside the reception.”
“Thank you both so much.” My voice wavers.
“Audrey, breathe.” Payton remains calm, holding onto my shoulders. “If you look panicked, you’ll draw the wrong type of attention. Believe me, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve been one cool chick through this whole ordeal, so you best be holding your shit together now.” She gives me a hug. Not wanting to break down in tears and ruin all of their hard work, I can only nod at her. Violet also hugs me and thanks me for the shoes, thrilled she inherited her father’s large feet. Payton smirks, swatting her in response.
“Make sure Mace and the others know how much I appreciate their help as well.” Hesitating, I turn back.
“We will. You go on now.” Payton shoos me away while flashing another supportive smile.
“Good luck!” Violet adds a positive spin to the situation as I hobble along.
Once I clear the top of the stairs, I panic and dive into the ladies’ bathroom. Gripping the gilded frame, I stare in horror at my hollowed reflection. “Magic Mirror, if I’m truly the fairest, now’s the time for that Aster golden touch to shine.”
7
I slip into the ballroom, scanning the reception for Lilith. The boisterous noise level and awkward slutt
y dance moves reflect the shameful intoxication of the remaining young crowd.
Georgina appears in front of me, her hands on her hips. “We’ve been looking all over for you!” I take my time standing up. She nails her eyes to my feet, noticing the missing four-inch heels. “Where are your sandals?” she demands, reprimanding me as though I’m a petulant child.
“Oh, I had to change my shoes into something more comfortable. I twisted my ankle in the heels earlier.” I slip a mask of indifference upon my face.
“Do you always have to be so hyperpolic?”
I can’t help but wince. “Do you mean … hyperbolic?”
“Whatever. Fashion is not supposed to be comfortable.” She huffs.
Violet comes to mind. “Coco Chanel would disagree.”
Georgina eyes my ankle. The swelling has morphed all the way down to my toes. “My gawd, even your feet are fat!” She rolls her eyes in disgust. “We’re taking photos now. Lilith wants to head back to the city.” Grabbing my arm, she digs her nails into my tender flesh. I jerk back and pat my arm. The makeup remains in place over the fresh welt. “Do not make a scene.” She growls while a sweet smile shines from her deceiving face. “I’ve already had to put up with enough of you! No more, ya hear me?”
“Careful, darlin’, your real accent is slipping again. Remember the one you try so hard to hide, yet it sounds so charming. That country accent is the only authentic thing about you.” She sends me a look to behave. Now that she’s married to my father, she no longer has to pretend to play nice. I squint at her. “You can shine without the diamonds and Botox, Georgina. Were you trying to convey anger? I can’t tell with all the fillers in your face.” She gasps. “But you do look constipated, so congratulations. Mission accomplished.” I park myself by the cake display, trying to put an end to the miserable evening as soon as possible.
The photographer poses the family around the ostentatious wedding cake. Lilith is behind this particular shot, showing the united front of the refreshed Aster Empire. We pose for a series of family portraits before moving on to the cake cutting shots. Georgina takes the tiniest bite—all for the camera—putting her plate down after. The wait staff passes out slices. I grab a much needed sugar injection and stab my fork into the sad white frosted square covered in dainty pink piped roses.
“Are you sure ’bout that, darlin’?” Georgina’s drawl is thick, carrying that Southern Antebellum high nasal sound I’ve become accustomed to over the last several years. She’s as plastic as the blissful bride and groom cake topper. I spin towards her, making sure she sees me inhaling a chunk of cake.
“Now this is the definition of delicious,” I retort. Georgina fixates upon my hips. Once she moved into the apartment, she banned all sugar, carbs, and red meat from our diets. I’ve had to keep my cupcake affair top secret. For the derisive look she’s giving me, I plan to devour another slice. Cake is just a square cupcake after all. Groaning, I inhale a large bite. “Mmm, so good!” Georgina purses her lips.
“It’s a miracle you fit into that dress.” Georgina studies the new shallow design that wasn’t there earlier. “It looks as though not all of you fit.”
“Yes, a size four. Hey, isn’t your wedding dress also a size four?” She gasps. I recall setting the bottle of Jack down on the beach when Mace carried me back to the resort. Whiskey would be great to wash down the sudden bittersweetness of the cake.
Scanning the room, I come upon a set of green eyes. Mace smiles at Georgina’s sour reaction while leaning against the bar. My heels dangle from his fingers. He’s in a new white button down shirt with the same suit jacket as before. My heart swells knowing he’s here. I have the sudden yearning to sit around a bonfire and drink whiskey with him.
When he offers up my shoes, I mouth Violet’s name, and his eyes wander to my feet. He shifts his head back, beckoning me to join him again. I take a step forward. Lilith slices through my path, circling me like a shark. Georgina’s sour expression morphs into glee with a glint in her eyes. I plant a pleasant smile while playing dodgeball. Lilith veers off, keeping a close watch on me from afar. Mace holds up a shot glass and takes the whiskey back, giving me a final nod before rushing away. He swipes a piece of cake from one of the nearby serving trays and disappears out the side door, for good this time.
I’d laugh at the exchange, but I can taste the melancholy of the evening on my tongue. I want to slip away and sleep forever. To forget this horrible evening. Georgina’s saccharine smile aimed at my father tells me that will have to wait.
“Will, did you tell Audrey the exciting news?” I look to my father and brace for another impact.
“Georgina and I are expecting,” he shares with no inflection or a smile upon his lips while he scans his phone. No wonder he’s been distracted. This is why my father remarried. I didn’t think a pregnancy would happen this soon.
Georgina shares, “The room next to ours is being turned into a nursery as we speak.”
“You mean my room? That’s what all the remodeling fuss is about?”
She gazes up to my father’s eyes. My focus shifts to my father for his explanation of said plans, but he adds nothing. William’s so wrapped up in Georgina and the baby that he’s forgotten his firstborn standing across from him. His behavior is appalling. He’s allowing her to push me out of the nest to make room for her own child. Why is my father so eager to displace me?
Georgina pats my limp hand. “The room design has already been drawn up. The nursey will be done before we’re back from the Maldives.”
“For the baby that won’t be here until next year?”
“You’ll be away at college anyway, and the baby will be here before Thanksgiving. Hence, the size four dress.”
Her hips may be a tab wider, but her stomach is as flat as the day I met her. I wonder how she pulls off her “dieting” with the pregnancy. This doesn’t bode well for their unborn child.
“College isn’t until the fall. Where am I supposed to stay until then?”
“William, you were supposed to discuss this with her already!”
“Discuss what exactly, William?” I inquire. My father has failed to keep me informed of many things these past few months. Now my world is becoming smaller by the moment. Still scrolling through his phone, he doesn’t even lift an eyebrow at our exchange as I growl deep in my chest.
Sharing more of her “good news,” Georgina turns her smug face my way. “We were thinking how nice it would be for you, Audrey, to spend the summer at Lilith’s place. We know you don’t have any girlfriends you could stay with.”
Her jab digs deep since I have no female friends. This is only one of the sad facts of my existence. My old friends disappeared after my mother’s sickness committed her to a hospital bed and me to her side. The girls I met in the horse jumping circuit were too competitive for real friendship. Georgina doesn’t mention how I have no guy friends either. Not with this crowd.
After I settled into my new life in the city, my father sprang the boys’ social club on me. They’re the filthy, rotten, wealthy offspring of the most exclusive tycoons. I call them ‘pretty boys,’ and they’re not my friends. They’re the younger, cockier versions of Chaz. They all know I’m the key to their future success and wealth. That didn’t stop them from pretending as if I didn’t exist during our first official encounter in a private billiards room at a charity ball.
The “Aster heir” had arrived on the scene, and I looked like a fairy princess in a ridiculous white puffy ball gown. The dress was Georgina’s doing, of course. They all knew me by name and sight, but I used to remain by my mother’s side at those events. I was on my own armed with only my wit. The pretty boys snickered at me, nudging each other while murmuring I needed to grow a pair of balls. I turned my back on their disapproving behaviors and headed for the bar. I grabbed a bottle from the shelf and took a defiant swig, letting the burning sensation of the smooth Tennessee whiskey ground me. A play none of them had the �
�balls” to do.
William was testing me, seeing how I’d do on my own in shark-infested waters. My determination for success cemented: I had to appear to be a cold-hearted bitch if I was ever going to get these boys to take me seriously. I didn’t recognize the hard eyes that stared back at me from the mirror behind the bar. That was the first time the old me starting slipping away. It was easier not to feel any sense of humanity, so I didn’t. I emulated Lilith instead.
The bottle landed hard on the bar as I set my sights upon their cocky smirks and dismissive shrugs. The group of twenty or so pretty boys needed a dose of reality, and I was handing out spankings. I spoke loud enough so the whole room could hear me.
“We all agree your fathers are some of the most intelligent, progressive, and industrious men in this country. They are also the ones who requested my presence here. I am the exception to the rule, boys. You’re either with me”— I took my time lining up shot glasses and filling them with Jack Daniels, not the most expensive whiskey they would expect— “or there is the door, and you can go cry to your daddies. Lo and behold, I am the future of the Aster Empire. It doesn’t matter if I have balls or not when mine are still bigger than all of yours combined.”
