Smart, Sexy and Secretive
Page 30
“Logan,” her mom says, walking quickly toward me. She’s a pure delight, and I’m surprised I like her as much as I do. She hugs me and pats my back. “Where’s Emily? Did the clothes I sent fit?” She looks down at what I’m wearing and grimaces. I see that they’re dressed really nicely when Mr. Madison helps Mrs. Madison take her coat off. She’s wearing pearls and diamonds, and her blue dress probably costs more than a car.
“Emily is getting dressed first,” I say, nodding toward the bedroom.
She hurries in that direction and slips into her daughter’s room, closing the door behind her.
I stand there starting at Mr. Madison like an idiot. I made an ass of myself the last time I saw him, walking out the way I did. I really want to have a good relationship with him. I stick out my hand, and he reaches for mine, squeezing it tightly as he looks into my eyes.
“Mr. Madison,” I begin. I don’t know what to say.
“Mr. Reed,” he replies. He lets my hand go and stares at me like he’s waiting for me to apologize. I wouldn’t do that on my f**king deathbed, because I don’t think you should apologize for anything unless you’re sorry.
“Logan,” I say, correcting him.
He just nods.
“Mr. Madison, I wanted to talk with you,” I begin. I don’t know the right words to say what I want to say.
“Yes, I’d hoped you would.”
He sits down in a chair and motions to the couch opposite him. I sit gingerly, not sure of how to proceed. “The last time we spoke…”
“You mean when you walked out and smashed something?” he asks.
I want a cigarette. I can almost feel one between my fingers. “It was just a trash can.” It could have been his face if I wasn’t such a gentleman. And he wasn’t Emily’s father.
“That trash can never did you any harm.” But he smiles as he says it, and the pressure in my chest eases some.
“Mr. Madison, I feel like I need to explain my intentions toward your daughter.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Do go on.”
“I love her like crazy, and I’d like to have your permission to marry her.” I blink at him. I need to say more and it’s on the tip of my tongue, but the words won’t come.
“No.”
That’s all he says. Just no.
“Mr. Madison,” I start. “I’d really like to have your blessing.”
“My answer is still no, young man.” He leans forward putting his elbows on his knees. “Before Emily was born, I dreamed of what my family would be like. I dreamed of a houseful of kids. But she was the only one. We didn’t find out until she was in kindergarten that there was something wrong with her.” He shakes his head. “I hope you never find out what it’s like to have child with the problems Emily has. It was a disappointment to us all.”
I sit back. I suddenly can’t catch my breath. I would be honored to have a daughter like Emily.
He goes on, shaking his head. “She’ll never be a business mogul or a scientist or a doctor. She’ll never be able to fulfill any of the dreams we had for her. But she can marry well.” He leans over and squeezes my knee like he’s sharing a secret with me. “And you, son, do not fit the criteria.”
He holds up a hand when I open my mouth, and I close it. I probably look like a fish flopping on dry land.
“You’ll run your little tattoo shop and you’ll have a shitty apartment and you’ll buy your wife a tiny diamond. And you’ll be happy with that. But I’ll never be happy with that for my daughter. She deserves better.”
“Yes,” I agree. “She does deserve better.” She deserves better than the father she ended up with. She deserves to have a father who can see the f**king beauty and intelligence that’s inside her. “She deserves better,” I say again.
“I’ve decided to let her have her fun until it plays out.” He leans back and steeples his hands over his belly. “But when all is said and done, I expect her to marry well. And that won’t involve you.”
“But—” I can’t even get out a sentence. I’m so f**king floored.
“No buts,” he says. “Emily is having a last fling before she settles down with a nice young man like Trip.”
“Trip thinks she’s stupid,” I say. I don’t even realize it until his eyes meet mine. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.
He nods. “The boy knows how to call them, but he’s willing to overlook it. She’ll make a fine wife. She’ll pop out a few kids, and she’ll be content.” He blows through his lips. “She’ll put down that damn guitar and live the only life that is befit her, as the wife of someone important.”
“I’m sorry, but I disagree, sir.”
He snorts. “Of course you do.”
I heave a sigh. “I plan to change your mind, sir.”
He shakes his head. “Nothing will change my mind. I knew Emily’s future the moment I found out she would never be able to read.” He shoves to his feet. “No worries. We’ll hire nannies who can read to her children. Maybe they won’t turn out like her.”
I hope to God that every one of her children turns out exactly like her. She’s f**king perfect.
“I won’t stop trying.” I need for him to know my intentions. “I intend to make myself worthy of your daughter. I want to be sure you’re aware of my thoughts on the matter, sir.”
He looks down at his watch. “Go and get dressed. I won’t let you make us late.”
I get to my feet. I can’t bite it back any longer. “Sir, with all due respect, you’re a f**king idiot if you think Emily’s stupid or incapable of learning. She’s brilliant. She’ll have brilliant children and do brilliant things. And she’ll do them married to me.” His eyes cloud with anger. I have pushed too far, and I don’t care. “I would be honored to have her as my wife, exactly as she is.”
“That’s because you have no drive,” he says with a laugh. I’m glad I can’t hear it, because I imagine it like nails on a chalkboard. “That’s what you learn when you come from nothing. You have no expectations.”
I turn and walk toward Emily’s room, my heart beating so hard I’m afraid it’s going to thump out of my chest. I knock on the door, and Emily opens it. My breath catches. She’s wearing an ivory dress that hugs all of her curves, some clunky jewelry that is probably real and costs a f**king fortune, and she now comes up to my chin in her five-inch heels.
Her eyes narrow. “Are you all right?” she asks. She looks over my shoulder toward where her father is sitting. Trip comes out of his room, and he’s dressed for the party, wearing a nice suit and black shoes. He has on a tie. Mr. Madison actually looks happy to see him. Me, on the other hand… I may as well be gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
“I’m fine. Your father is afraid we’ll be late.” I step into the room and let her mother sweep me into a dressing frenzy. I try to put Mr. Madison’s comments out of my mind because I’m nauseated every time I think about Emily growing up with that man as her example. This is what she knew. It’s no f**king wonder she left.
I decide then and there that I will change her life. And I will do it simply by loving her exactly as she is. It’s not as though I could keep from doing that anyway.
I close the door behind me, leaving her with her father and her ex-boyfriend. Her mom glares at me from across the room, tapping her toe on the oak floor. “What did he do?” she asks.
“Who?” I ask. I know whom she’s referring to, but my problem is with Mr. Madison, not Mrs. Madison.
“You know who.” Her foot starts moving faster. “He makes me so angry sometimes.” She picks up a shirt and holds it against my chest. “Not that one,” she says absently. She replaces it with another. And another. “She is such a smart girl, and he doesn’t give her any credit at all.” Her eyes fill with tears, and my heart lurches. This woman knows who and what her daughter is. She knows.
“Why do you let him treat her like that?” I ask.
“Oh, he’s really good to her when she’s in his presence. So she has no idea how much he worries about her or how much planning he does to be sure she has what she needs.”
What the fuck? That’s what this woman thinks he does? He belittles their daughter to anyone who will listen, and he just told me Emily is stupid, directly to my face. “Rose-colored glasses,” I mutter.
“Beg your pardon?” she says, looking up from the stack of clothing. She draws her lower lip between her teeth and worries it. It reminds me so much of Emily.
“Nothing,” I say. “Is this the one?” I take the shirt from her when she nods. “How much do I owe you for all of this?” I ask. I won’t be beholden to that man.
She looks like I told her I killed her cat. “Owe me?”
“For the clothes?”
“Oh, these are all Madison Avenue,” she says. “They’re part of a new line of clothing. Emily is wearing them, too. There will be a lot of models ambling about today. You’re really doing us a huge favor by going and wearing the clothes. They’re made for a younger, hipper audience than anything we’ve ever done before. We’re not sure how it’ll take off.” She smiles at me and runs a hand across my cheek. She points to the bed. “Trousers, socks, shoes, and two layers of shirts.” She grins. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”
“It’s fine,” I say.
“Thank you,” she says, looking into my eyes.
“I haven’t done anything yet.” I smile at her because her eyes are filling with tears and I don’t want her to cry.
“You have done more than you will ever know.” She sniffs and leaves the room.
I fall back on the bed, rubbing my face with my palms. What the f**k am I going to do about Emily’s father? I’m going into war with no weapons in my arsenal.
Emily
Something is wrong. I don’t know what happened while I was getting dressed but something is definitely wrong. Logan looks like he’s biting the inside of his cheek, and my dad looks smug and arrogant. Of course, that’s how my dad usually looks, but now it’s amplified. Logan closes the bedroom door behind me, and my mom is in there with him.
“Dad,” I say. “Is Logan all right?”
My dad shrugs, looking down at his Blackberry. He doesn’t look up. “How should I know?”
“Weren’t you just talking to him?” I jerk my thumb toward the closed bedroom door. “He looked irritated when he went in my room.”
Dad smirks. “I thought that was his general disposition.”
“Logan’s a nice guy, Dad,” I rush to say. I don’t know why I care but I do. I care about what he thinks. I want to please him. I just think it’s impossible.
Trip motions for me to follow him into the kitchen. I don’t want to spend any time with Trip. But he gets up, and I feel compelled to follow him.
When I get to the kitchen, he’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Just how much do you know about Logan?” he asks.
“I know everything I need to know.” I don’t need to explain our relationship to Trip, of all people.
“He and I had a talk while you were getting ready.” His eyes narrow. “Do you want to know what he had to say to me?”
“Not really.” I hold up a hand when he starts to talk. “Why are you doing this, Trip?”
He reaches for my elbow and jerk out of his reach. “Em,” he says.
“Don’t touch me again, Trip,” I warn.
Trip’s voice gets soft. “We were good together, Em, once upon a time.”
“No, we weren’t. We were terrible.”
His face falls. “Not until the end. We were fine until that night.”
I remember that night like it was yesterday, and it still hurts just as much now as it did then.
“Do I get a pass for being drunk when I said it? Can’t you forgive me?” He twists a strand of my hair around his finger and tugs it playfully. I brush my hair back over my shoulder.
We had our rehearsal dinner and all of our friends were there:
“Em, do you know what you want?” he asks, dropping an arm around my shoulders. He looks down at me, and I can see by his dilated pupils that he’s hit something a little stronger than champagne. I hate it when he’s high, but I have to tolerate him. I’m going to marry him tomorrow.
I look up at the waitress, who has her pen waiting to write down my order. “What do you recommend?” I ask. It’s the safest way to get away with not reading the menu.
“Just pick something, baby,” Trip urges. He flips the menu open and I try to read it, but the letters blur in front of my face. I get tongue-tied because she’s waiting and he’s waiting and they’re all waiting.
I look to Trip’s sister. “What did you get?”
“I haven’t ordered yet,” she says. She peruses the menu for another moment and calls out her order.
I close my menu. “I’ll have the same.”
Trip flips my menu back open. “Order whatever you want, sweetheart. Come on, you can do it.”
I shove his arm from around my shoulders. “I just gave her my order, Trip. Why don’t you give her yours?” I smile at him and pat the side of his face. His eyes are red-rimmed and not completely focused.
“Emily is getting dressed first,” I say, nodding toward the bedroom.
She hurries in that direction and slips into her daughter’s room, closing the door behind her.
I stand there starting at Mr. Madison like an idiot. I made an ass of myself the last time I saw him, walking out the way I did. I really want to have a good relationship with him. I stick out my hand, and he reaches for mine, squeezing it tightly as he looks into my eyes.
“Mr. Madison,” I begin. I don’t know what to say.
“Mr. Reed,” he replies. He lets my hand go and stares at me like he’s waiting for me to apologize. I wouldn’t do that on my f**king deathbed, because I don’t think you should apologize for anything unless you’re sorry.
“Logan,” I say, correcting him.
He just nods.
“Mr. Madison, I wanted to talk with you,” I begin. I don’t know the right words to say what I want to say.
“Yes, I’d hoped you would.”
He sits down in a chair and motions to the couch opposite him. I sit gingerly, not sure of how to proceed. “The last time we spoke…”
“You mean when you walked out and smashed something?” he asks.
I want a cigarette. I can almost feel one between my fingers. “It was just a trash can.” It could have been his face if I wasn’t such a gentleman. And he wasn’t Emily’s father.
“That trash can never did you any harm.” But he smiles as he says it, and the pressure in my chest eases some.
“Mr. Madison, I feel like I need to explain my intentions toward your daughter.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Do go on.”
“I love her like crazy, and I’d like to have your permission to marry her.” I blink at him. I need to say more and it’s on the tip of my tongue, but the words won’t come.
“No.”
That’s all he says. Just no.
“Mr. Madison,” I start. “I’d really like to have your blessing.”
“My answer is still no, young man.” He leans forward putting his elbows on his knees. “Before Emily was born, I dreamed of what my family would be like. I dreamed of a houseful of kids. But she was the only one. We didn’t find out until she was in kindergarten that there was something wrong with her.” He shakes his head. “I hope you never find out what it’s like to have child with the problems Emily has. It was a disappointment to us all.”
I sit back. I suddenly can’t catch my breath. I would be honored to have a daughter like Emily.
He goes on, shaking his head. “She’ll never be a business mogul or a scientist or a doctor. She’ll never be able to fulfill any of the dreams we had for her. But she can marry well.” He leans over and squeezes my knee like he’s sharing a secret with me. “And you, son, do not fit the criteria.”
He holds up a hand when I open my mouth, and I close it. I probably look like a fish flopping on dry land.
“You’ll run your little tattoo shop and you’ll have a shitty apartment and you’ll buy your wife a tiny diamond. And you’ll be happy with that. But I’ll never be happy with that for my daughter. She deserves better.”
“Yes,” I agree. “She does deserve better.” She deserves better than the father she ended up with. She deserves to have a father who can see the f**king beauty and intelligence that’s inside her. “She deserves better,” I say again.
“I’ve decided to let her have her fun until it plays out.” He leans back and steeples his hands over his belly. “But when all is said and done, I expect her to marry well. And that won’t involve you.”
“But—” I can’t even get out a sentence. I’m so f**king floored.
“No buts,” he says. “Emily is having a last fling before she settles down with a nice young man like Trip.”
“Trip thinks she’s stupid,” I say. I don’t even realize it until his eyes meet mine. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.
He nods. “The boy knows how to call them, but he’s willing to overlook it. She’ll make a fine wife. She’ll pop out a few kids, and she’ll be content.” He blows through his lips. “She’ll put down that damn guitar and live the only life that is befit her, as the wife of someone important.”
“I’m sorry, but I disagree, sir.”
He snorts. “Of course you do.”
I heave a sigh. “I plan to change your mind, sir.”
He shakes his head. “Nothing will change my mind. I knew Emily’s future the moment I found out she would never be able to read.” He shoves to his feet. “No worries. We’ll hire nannies who can read to her children. Maybe they won’t turn out like her.”
I hope to God that every one of her children turns out exactly like her. She’s f**king perfect.
“I won’t stop trying.” I need for him to know my intentions. “I intend to make myself worthy of your daughter. I want to be sure you’re aware of my thoughts on the matter, sir.”
He looks down at his watch. “Go and get dressed. I won’t let you make us late.”
I get to my feet. I can’t bite it back any longer. “Sir, with all due respect, you’re a f**king idiot if you think Emily’s stupid or incapable of learning. She’s brilliant. She’ll have brilliant children and do brilliant things. And she’ll do them married to me.” His eyes cloud with anger. I have pushed too far, and I don’t care. “I would be honored to have her as my wife, exactly as she is.”
“That’s because you have no drive,” he says with a laugh. I’m glad I can’t hear it, because I imagine it like nails on a chalkboard. “That’s what you learn when you come from nothing. You have no expectations.”
I turn and walk toward Emily’s room, my heart beating so hard I’m afraid it’s going to thump out of my chest. I knock on the door, and Emily opens it. My breath catches. She’s wearing an ivory dress that hugs all of her curves, some clunky jewelry that is probably real and costs a f**king fortune, and she now comes up to my chin in her five-inch heels.
Her eyes narrow. “Are you all right?” she asks. She looks over my shoulder toward where her father is sitting. Trip comes out of his room, and he’s dressed for the party, wearing a nice suit and black shoes. He has on a tie. Mr. Madison actually looks happy to see him. Me, on the other hand… I may as well be gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
“I’m fine. Your father is afraid we’ll be late.” I step into the room and let her mother sweep me into a dressing frenzy. I try to put Mr. Madison’s comments out of my mind because I’m nauseated every time I think about Emily growing up with that man as her example. This is what she knew. It’s no f**king wonder she left.
I decide then and there that I will change her life. And I will do it simply by loving her exactly as she is. It’s not as though I could keep from doing that anyway.
I close the door behind me, leaving her with her father and her ex-boyfriend. Her mom glares at me from across the room, tapping her toe on the oak floor. “What did he do?” she asks.
“Who?” I ask. I know whom she’s referring to, but my problem is with Mr. Madison, not Mrs. Madison.
“You know who.” Her foot starts moving faster. “He makes me so angry sometimes.” She picks up a shirt and holds it against my chest. “Not that one,” she says absently. She replaces it with another. And another. “She is such a smart girl, and he doesn’t give her any credit at all.” Her eyes fill with tears, and my heart lurches. This woman knows who and what her daughter is. She knows.
“Why do you let him treat her like that?” I ask.
“Oh, he’s really good to her when she’s in his presence. So she has no idea how much he worries about her or how much planning he does to be sure she has what she needs.”
What the fuck? That’s what this woman thinks he does? He belittles their daughter to anyone who will listen, and he just told me Emily is stupid, directly to my face. “Rose-colored glasses,” I mutter.
“Beg your pardon?” she says, looking up from the stack of clothing. She draws her lower lip between her teeth and worries it. It reminds me so much of Emily.
“Nothing,” I say. “Is this the one?” I take the shirt from her when she nods. “How much do I owe you for all of this?” I ask. I won’t be beholden to that man.
She looks like I told her I killed her cat. “Owe me?”
“For the clothes?”
“Oh, these are all Madison Avenue,” she says. “They’re part of a new line of clothing. Emily is wearing them, too. There will be a lot of models ambling about today. You’re really doing us a huge favor by going and wearing the clothes. They’re made for a younger, hipper audience than anything we’ve ever done before. We’re not sure how it’ll take off.” She smiles at me and runs a hand across my cheek. She points to the bed. “Trousers, socks, shoes, and two layers of shirts.” She grins. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”
“It’s fine,” I say.
“Thank you,” she says, looking into my eyes.
“I haven’t done anything yet.” I smile at her because her eyes are filling with tears and I don’t want her to cry.
“You have done more than you will ever know.” She sniffs and leaves the room.
I fall back on the bed, rubbing my face with my palms. What the f**k am I going to do about Emily’s father? I’m going into war with no weapons in my arsenal.
Emily
Something is wrong. I don’t know what happened while I was getting dressed but something is definitely wrong. Logan looks like he’s biting the inside of his cheek, and my dad looks smug and arrogant. Of course, that’s how my dad usually looks, but now it’s amplified. Logan closes the bedroom door behind me, and my mom is in there with him.
“Dad,” I say. “Is Logan all right?”
My dad shrugs, looking down at his Blackberry. He doesn’t look up. “How should I know?”
“Weren’t you just talking to him?” I jerk my thumb toward the closed bedroom door. “He looked irritated when he went in my room.”
Dad smirks. “I thought that was his general disposition.”
“Logan’s a nice guy, Dad,” I rush to say. I don’t know why I care but I do. I care about what he thinks. I want to please him. I just think it’s impossible.
Trip motions for me to follow him into the kitchen. I don’t want to spend any time with Trip. But he gets up, and I feel compelled to follow him.
When I get to the kitchen, he’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Just how much do you know about Logan?” he asks.
“I know everything I need to know.” I don’t need to explain our relationship to Trip, of all people.
“He and I had a talk while you were getting ready.” His eyes narrow. “Do you want to know what he had to say to me?”
“Not really.” I hold up a hand when he starts to talk. “Why are you doing this, Trip?”
He reaches for my elbow and jerk out of his reach. “Em,” he says.
“Don’t touch me again, Trip,” I warn.
Trip’s voice gets soft. “We were good together, Em, once upon a time.”
“No, we weren’t. We were terrible.”
His face falls. “Not until the end. We were fine until that night.”
I remember that night like it was yesterday, and it still hurts just as much now as it did then.
“Do I get a pass for being drunk when I said it? Can’t you forgive me?” He twists a strand of my hair around his finger and tugs it playfully. I brush my hair back over my shoulder.
We had our rehearsal dinner and all of our friends were there:
“Em, do you know what you want?” he asks, dropping an arm around my shoulders. He looks down at me, and I can see by his dilated pupils that he’s hit something a little stronger than champagne. I hate it when he’s high, but I have to tolerate him. I’m going to marry him tomorrow.
I look up at the waitress, who has her pen waiting to write down my order. “What do you recommend?” I ask. It’s the safest way to get away with not reading the menu.
“Just pick something, baby,” Trip urges. He flips the menu open and I try to read it, but the letters blur in front of my face. I get tongue-tied because she’s waiting and he’s waiting and they’re all waiting.
I look to Trip’s sister. “What did you get?”
“I haven’t ordered yet,” she says. She peruses the menu for another moment and calls out her order.
I close my menu. “I’ll have the same.”
Trip flips my menu back open. “Order whatever you want, sweetheart. Come on, you can do it.”
I shove his arm from around my shoulders. “I just gave her my order, Trip. Why don’t you give her yours?” I smile at him and pat the side of his face. His eyes are red-rimmed and not completely focused.
