Total pages in book: 165
Estimated words: 159976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
I head to the back of the banquet hall and retrieve my backpack from one of the dressing rooms, digging out some jean shorts and a T-shirt.
So high and mighty, she is. Maybe if she’d ever acted a little more grateful…
She brought that video on herself.
So why do I regret posting it? I can’t look at the comments online and what they’re saying about her. That’s why I took it down in the first place. I just wanted her to see that I had Megan Martelle’s life in my hands. I wanted Liv to know that she wasn’t powerful. That I am.
But really, I was just angry. Jealous. I want her, I can’t have her, and I’m angry that I can’t have her.
So I take it out on her.
I pull on my change of clothes, blowing out a breath and clearing my head. But that’s not it. I don’t want her. The affection felt good, and when you’re starved for it, you’ll take it from anywhere. That’s all it is. I’m not bisexual. I’m straight.
I trust Liv not to talk, and I don’t trust Callum. That’s it. I’ll trust him eventually. Or another man.
I swing my crossbody bag over my head with my money and phone in it and leave my clothes and backpack in the dressing room. My mother will bring it all home.
I head for the entrance, sneaking past the doors quickly, so my mom doesn’t catch me. It’s almost six, already getting dark out, and I’m late.
But then I hear someone say, “Come here, darlin’.”
I turn, seeing my grandmother sitting in a chair in the lobby. Her hair is as white as her pantsuit, and she clutches a cane, propping it up on the floor in front of her.
“Mimi.” I walk over, absorbing the look from her that falls down my attire, assessing. “I was wondering where you were.”
“Sure, you were,” she retorts. But a smirk pulls at her lips, and I know she’s teasing me.
Falling to the carpet at her feet, I sit down and lean against her leg, the dull hum of the party droning on in the next room.
“You knew I’d sneak out,” I say. That’s why she’s sitting out here.
“It’s Night Tide.” She threads my hair through her fingers, and I hear laughter pour out of the banquet room. “I remember being unable to stand the anticipation when I was your age.”
Mimi is still my age. She just hides it well.
“So, what’s on the agenda tonight?” she asks.
I shrug. “Standard scavenger hunt, maybe some burgers…”
I used to love spending time with my mother’s mother more than I did my actual mother, but I started to enjoy it less the older I got. Mimi’s the reason my mom is the way she is.
I guard my words, because even though I may admire her ruthlessness, I also know I’m not safe from it. My grandmother is the most dangerous person I know.
“You be home at a decent hour.” She caresses my hair. “It’s not right for your mother to be home alone so much.”
“She’s never home,” I tell her.
Mimi takes my chin and tips my eyes up at her. “A great deal has been asked of you in your young life, but you need to see the strength it’s building, too.” Her gentle eyes don’t do enough to disguise the stern gaze underneath. “It’s not enough to not be a burden, Clay. You need to be a comfort, and if you don’t like that, that’s too bad. You get in line. Your family needs you.”
I almost nod, as always. It’s better to just agree with my elders, because arguing wastes time, and I’m just going to do what I want to anyway, but something slips out of me that I don’t feel like curtailing tonight. “A family doesn’t live in that house anymore.”
She thins her eyes, holding me closer. “Don’t let them see,” she says in a low tone.
“Who?”
“Everyone who is waiting with bated breath to see you unhappy.” She releases me and tips her chin up, straightening her back. “Don’t give that to them.”
I’ve never given that to them. I never let my friends know how I hate being home. How my parents barely know each other anymore.
How they barely know me.
But I’m tired of the façade, and for a few stolen moments this week, I got a glimpse of what life was like without it. I was too high to reach.
I spot a cardboard tube on the table, Biscayne Bay written on the label featuring my father’s letterhead. Biscayne Bay? He’s working on a development called Palm Biscayne, somewhere on our coast, but I’ve never heard of Biscayne Bay.
Bay… Not Sanoa Bay.
The gears in my head turn, and I’m afraid to ask. Nothing happens in this town without going through my grandmother, but I’m not sure I want to know. I was joking with Liv about Sanoa Bay being leveled for a golf course, because it’s been a threat since we were born. No one ever thought it would actually happen.