Second Lies (The Second Life Series) Page 5

  “Where’s Dennis?” She looked taken back. I pushed my way into the foyer. She shut the door and silently measured my mood. “Where the fuck is he?”

  “Baby, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” she grabbed my arm, but I yanked it away. “He’s working. Right now is not a good time. How about I set up a lunch for us later this week? We can try that new-”

  “No, he’s expecting me, so that won’t be necessary,” I pounded down the hall to a locked door with frosted glass. No one could see in or out of the room. I jiggled the handle with one hand and slammed against the glass with the other. “Open the fucking door, Darth. It’s me. Let’s get this shit over with.”

  “Adriana, please leave him be,” my mom begged. She wasn’t touching me this time. “I can have him call you tomorrow. Please, just leave. Now is not a good time.”

  The lock on the door clicked, and Dennis appeared, looking abnormally pleased. He opened the door the rest of the way to his office. “Isabel, it’s fine. What kind of a stepfather would I be if I didn’t make time for my stepdaughter?” He motioned inside. “Adriana, I’ve been looking forward to your visit, better late than never.”

  It took everything in me not to punch him again. His bruised chin was clearly covered in makeup. I could make out the faint scab from where my ring broke through the skin. It appeased me just enough to hold me back from seriously injuring him.

  He shut the door in my mom’s face. Normally, that would infuriate me, but I had my own issues to work out at the moment. Defending her was last on my list of cares. He clicked the lock back on the door and gestured for me to sit. I complied. He walked around his desk and sat down across from me, hands folded, eyes glaring with amusement. He knew I’d be coming, and he knew what to expect from me.

  “I want my picture back,” I said, trying to remain calm.

  “Your picture?” Dennis laughed. “Actually, I think I’m the one who had to pay Mr. Clark quite handsomely to own such a portrait. It means a great deal to me, Adriana. It means I finally have power over an annoying little cunt that can’t control her mouth…or her fists.” He tapped his jaw. I couldn’t help but smirk. “It’ll take a lot for me to give this up, especially because I’m rather fond of the pose.” He smirked back. “You’ll have to introduce me to the other young lady. Botox can only go so far with your aging mother. I’ll have to start looking into new prospects after the election.”

  “Cut the bullshit,” I fumed. “What do I have to do to get that picture back?”

  “Well, it’s very simple. My wife’s daughter just simply can’t be a stripper. After some negotiations, Mr. Clark agreed today to delete all records of you having worked for him. Stripping is done for you, understood?” I nodded, keeping my eyes locked on him. “I understand that’s how you paid your rent, and well, I can’t have you living out on the street either. That would look just as bad for me, so don’t worry about it. I’ll have that taken care of with your landlord by the end of the week.” He flipped through some papers. I spotted my name printed throughout them several times. Did this asshole have notes on me?

  “So no stripping?” I raised an eyebrow. I knew there had to be more. “I can agree to those terms. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve already left my job.”

  “Yes, I’m fully aware of that,” Dennis scribbled something on one of the papers and then tucked them away into a drawer of his massive, cherry wood desk. “That’s only one condition. Second, I’ll need you available for all public functions I host. That includes dinners, parties, auctions, basically anywhere that I’m trying to get some good publicity.” I nodded. “Finally, I’ll need you to keep your relationship with Mr. Holden both affectionate but modest. I want everyone to know you’re in love without knowing how he fucks you. He embodies every characteristic of the man I want standing with us during photographs for the press.”

  “No deal,” I gritted me teeth together. “Mr. Holden and I are no longer together. Apparently, he told some asshole where I used to work which got me in quite the predicament because now I’m being blackmailed.”

  “That’s a shame,” Dennis looked very much like he was enjoying being the cause of all my misery, “but I’m willing to accept that. See, look at us negotiating. I’m not all bad. The quicker you learn to cooperate the faster we get things done.” He nodded his head eagerly and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, so you’ll be single. That could work to my benefit, too. I’m sure I have some associates that would adore some personal attention from you. It’ll be a lot like when you worked at Lux except much less degrading, and you can keep your clothes on…well, unless you find someone you end up being fond over. I won’t stand in the way of you sucking off a potential investor.”

  I gripped the arms of the chair and choked out, “No, I’m not going down on any of your associates. Now, when am I getting my fucking picture?”

  “After the election, of course,” Dennis stood up and removed a portrait from the wall, revealing the door to a safe. He tapped it with a gaudy ring. “It’s in here, safely tucked away. As long as you comply with my rules during the length of this campaign, it will never been seen by your mother, and copies will never be sent to your father and brother. In a short while, it will be back in your possession, and you’ll have the only copies in existence. Now, do we have a deal?”

  “It doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice,” I answered.

  Dennis grabbed a cigar and lit the end. As he puffed on the smoke and blew it into the air, he laughed, “You really don’t, but I like to present this like it’s an option. I’ll see you Friday night, my dear. We have a charity dinner to attend. Oh, and don’t tell your mother about any of this. There’s no need to worry her precious heart.”

  I stood up and unlocked the door without another word, slipping into the hallway. As soon I shut the door behind me, my mom poked her head into view. Silently, she gestured for me to follow her. I complied and continued until we were on the other side of the house sitting in the sun room.

  She closed us in and exhaled, “Baby, are you okay? You look like hell.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I shook my head, refusing to confide in her about Wes or my stripper past. “I feel just as great.” I answered sarcastically. Honestly, I just wanted to go home, smoke some pot, and forget about all my problems.

  “We should talk about what happened at the bar,” she started playing with her bracelet, overcome by nerves. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, but Dennis needed me. I couldn’t just walk away from my husband like that.”

  “Of course, Mom, I know. It’s so much easier to walk away from your daughter when the man who pays your way in life is throwing a fit,” I rolled my eyes. I needed to get out of here. “I don’t even care anymore. It’s expected. You’ve already done it in the past, less we forget. I’ll deal with it and move on.”

  “It’s just that we were doing so well,” tears sprung to my mother’s eyes. She brushed them away. “I’ve already lost Nick. I can’t lose you, too.”

  “If you had to choose between money and your children, money wins every time,” I shook my head at the pathetic excuse for a mother. “That’s just how you are, and that’s what I’ve learned to expect from you. I accepted that a long time ago. So if you’re going to be that way then own it, but don’t you dare come crying to me, pretending like I’m a necessity in your life. We both know that’s a damn lie.”

  She didn’t say anything to me. I didn’t want her, too. I stood up and opened the door. My tone was harsh, “Go drink this off and go to bed. We both know that’s what you’re going to do anyway.”

  My body was physically and emotionally drained. There wasn’t an ounce left that I could give to this demanding world. Dennis named his price, and I would comply. I’d do doing. It didn’t matter about his accident. It still didn’t put him on the same level of fucked up as these people. Once I got what I needed, I’d run away, too, never look back, and there wouldn’t be a single person who cared enough to stop me.

&
nbsp; My heart twisted in my chest. I was going to go home, but I couldn’t find the strength anymore. My demons were calling to me. With a sigh, I headed towards DJ’s apartment. He was the dealer at Lux, and right now, I was craving a massive amount of coke.

  Chapter 6

  My hair was tied to the side in a messy bun held together with gold, butterfly pins. My makeup was dark and flawless, hiding the sadness in my sea blue eyes. My gray and gold D&G dress was a mermaid shape, exposing the curves of my chest in a tasteful manner. Over and over again, I posed with my mom and Dennis, forcing a smile on my lips. The ache in my chest never lessened, not even after over two months of being single, not even after distracting myself with nonstop workout sessions at the gym, pounds of coke, bottles of booze, parties, and events for Dennis.

  “That’s enough,” Dennis raised his hand in protest, and the cameras stopped flashing. He took my mom’s hand and led us both into the ballroom of the Catalina Hotel in the Art District of Philadelphia. We were attending a charity event in support of budding, local artists. At least there’d be something to look at. These parties were becoming draining, leaving me melancholy and hollow. Still, I went every time. I was Dennis’s dog. He owned me. My thoughts drifted back to Nick and his description of our asshole stepfather. He had warned me of this. I was just paying my debt.

  When we entered the gallery, I viewed the tri-state area’s wealthiest and most sophisticated individuals. They were also Dennis’s best friends and biggest supporters. After mingling with this crowd for a couple months now, I was becoming familiar with their names and faces. It was shameful. I hated it. I was counting down the days until I could move to Virginia with my dad. That was my plan once I got that fucking picture back.

  “I’m going to get a drink,” I mumbled. Neither of them protested. The only way I could tolerate these events was if I was drunk or high. Unfortunately, the weed I smoked a while ago had worn off, so liquor was my only option. Now, I could understand why my mom was such a lush.

  “Thank you,” I said while grabbing two flutes of champagne. I downed one and placed it back on the tray. As I eyed the second one, I said to the waiter, “Don’t go too far from me. I have a feeling you and I will be best friends this evening.” He nodded his head, amused, mistaking my seriousness for a joke.

  I walked up to a painting and stared up at it. It was a large portrait of a naked woman done in a rainbow of colors. Her face was made up of shades of blue and red and orange. Her body painted in pinks and green. She was dancing in the black, midnight sky surrounded by a million points of white light. The concept didn’t make sense to me, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring up at it.

  “She’s beautiful. Isn’t she? It’s called ‘Center of Attention,’” I had become so enthralled by the portrait that I didn’t even notice someone had walked up next to me. “Her eyes follow you around the room. It’s a bit eerie.”

  My eyes widened at the realization; my palms became moist. I hadn’t heard his voice in months. I turned to my right. Garrett stood next to me, looking delicious in a gray, pin-striped suit and bronze colored tie. It brought out the hew of blonde colors in his hair. He was massive compared to my size, standing well over 6 feet tall and bulky, looking like he was sculpted from solid muscle. There was brown stubble around his chin and his golden hair was brushed back in waves. This wasn’t the man I remembered from his house. This man looked refined and striking. The man I remembered was uncultured and crude.

  “She’s interesting to say the least,” I slung back the rest of my champagne and faced him. His forest green eyes pierced through mine. I gulped. God, they were exactly the same as his eyes. It was a struggle to try and hide my discomfort, but I pulled through. “What are you doing here, Holden?”

  “Checking out beautiful women,” he clinked his glass to mine. For the briefest moment, I caught him eyeing my cleavage. He motioned to the painting. “So what do you think of this? I’m trying to figure out if I should buy it for a restaurant in North Jersey I just purchased. I can’t figure out if I really like it or not.”

  “It’s outrageous, bold and unnecessary. I think it’s perfect for you,” I folded my arms, eyeing him up. He made a face that looked familiar. Shit, it was hard just looking at him. Two months later, and I was still struggling with the fact that that relationship was over. “How’ve you been?”

  “I’ve been good,” he grinned. “You look beautiful tonight, Adriana. Do you have a date this evening? I can’t imagine it being very difficult for you to find one, looking as gorgeous as you always do.”

  “Dating isn’t for me at the moment,” I drank the rest of the champagne, irritated that the waiter was nowhere in sight. I needed something stronger. “I’m here with my mother and her husband.” I shrugged. “Well, I came with them. Now, my mission is to become a drunk asshole by myself.”

  He laughed, “That’s not fun.” He made eye contact with a waiter and motioned for him. Garrett grabbed a drink for each of us and handed me one. “We should be drunk assholes together.” He took a sip of his, and I couldn’t help but crack a smile.

  “What would your wife think about this?” I lifted my drink in response. “Is she home watching your daughter?”

  “Shelly’s at her parents’ in Delaware with Jade,” he shrugged. I wasn’t sure if I made up the touch of sadness in his eyes, but it instantly disappeared, “where they’ve been staying lately. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t give a shit what I do anymore.”

  “Interesting,” I answered. I searched the space to change the subject. Contrary to what I said, I wasn’t interested in hearing about anyone else’s relationship woes. “Did you see that thing over there?” I walked over to this elaborate piece, gliding across the floor in my black stilettos. Garrett followed behind me, just a step or two away. We stopped at this gargantuan metal statue constructed of poles and cords. Randomly placed light bulbs flashed, and multicolored fabric was weaved in and out of openings throughout the piece. “I don’t get how this is art. It’s just a mess of things.”

  “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” his statement made me flinch. Was he referring to me? Trash, fuck, that’s how I felt, a thrown out, used, dirty piece of trash. Garrett didn’t pick up on my thoughts. He gulped down his drink, grabbing two more from a passing waiter. He urged. “Keep up.”

  It was a challenge that I was all too happy to accept. I grabbed a drink from him and relished in the bubbles dancing down my throat. He watched with pure amusement, and then joined me. I had to admit that this was fun. I had spent so many parties drinking by myself as a pitiful mess that any company was welcome…even Garrett Holden’s.

  We continued to drink until the point where the waiters legitimately knew not to be too far away from us. We laughed obnoxiously at amusing artwork and made inappropriate jokes about other attendees. Garrett gave me the courage to talk sports with a certain struggling, Philly quarterback who, despite some bad press, was actually a pretty cool guy and even posed for a picture with me, which I immediately uploaded to several social media outlets. It was the most fun I’d had in a long time. So much, in fact, that, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t notice the ache in my heart.

  “Picture?” A photographer asked.

  Before I could answer, Garrett grabbed me by the waist and pulled me against his body until I was molded against him. His hands were sprawled out against my hips like he couldn’t resist touching me. His chin nestled against my hair. He smelled divine, a mixture of spices and pheromones. It was enough to intoxicate me, raising a sensual smile to my lips. The photographer snapped a picture, and I was sure I looked like I had just been thoroughly fucked.

  Even after the photographer left, Garrett just held me there for second. I pulled myself out of his grasp and gulped. Maybe it was all the champagne, but my head was feeling clouded. Garrett was looking divine. He was funny and observant. Fuck, he was making me confused. Michelle was pregnant with his second child. She was his wife. There was
no way I could let myself feel a damn thing for him.

  “Adriana?” He touched my arm, spinning me around, so I was forced to face him. “I’m sorry. I’ve been drinking.” He scratched the back of his neck, a look of concern crossing his eyes. “Can I take you home? We should call it a night.”

  Without another word, I nodded my head. Garrett took the lead, being very careful not to touch me unless necessary. As we made our way outside, he hailed a cab and put me inside, walking around the other side and taking the seat next to me. I frowned, looking at him in confusion. Did he get the wrong impression?

  “You’ve been drinking. I just want to make sure you get in okay. That’s it,” he answered my unspoken question.

  Relief washed over me. I called to the cab driver, “The Hollander on 16th and Arch, please.” The cab driver took off, and I relaxed into the cloth seat. I closed my eyes, giving into the alcohol and my luxurious buzz.

  “Did you have fun?” Garrett asked, filling the silence with pointless questions.

  A grin captivated my lips. I opened one of my eyes and peeked in his direction, “Actually, yes, for the first time in a long time, I did have some fun.”

  “Good,” he moved a little bit closer to me, enough so I could feel the heat coming off of him. The beat of my heart picked up a little bit. He moved his hand over mine, twining our fingers together, and giving it a little squeeze. I couldn’t believe it. I was drunk, and his first reaction was to hold my hand? Garrett Holden really knew how to surprise me.

  We took the rest of the ride just like that, hand in hand. The cab driver pulled up to my building. Garrett gave him some cash and helped me out the car. As soon as our feet met the pavement, he grabbed my hand again. Admittedly, I left it there. It felt too good to pull away just yet. Besides, it meant nothing, right?

  Jeff, the doorman, held open the door for us. He nodded his head in my direction, “Good morning, Ms. Ward.” I smiled in return.