AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Like when Mitzie and Helen didn’t want Dad to pay for college, I went to school on a full ride, but my brothers had lived off campus, and I wanted to do the same. That had always been the plan, but when it came to my turn, Helen made a stink.
There were so many other stories like those, and I filled him in on all of them. “You remember it so clearly. Did you keep these things in a journal?”
“I used to write everything down when I was little. Then, one day, Mitzie found one of my earlier diaries and tried to show it to her mother.”
“I realized after knocking the hell out of her to get it back that I could use it as a weapon. So, I started writing shit that was nowhere near the truth and leaving it for them to find.”
“I learned very early on that people react to emotion. If someone read your diary and it is filled with hateful words about them, they’d hate you. If they read heartfelt words of praise, even the coldest heart will be touched.”
“They’d still kill you, but they’d be touched. This is why I got rid of my earlier journals. Because I knew if anyone read those thoughts from back then, they would never understand the pain and anger written on those pages, and they would take offense.”
“So, when I wanted to make Helen pissed, which u knew she would take out on Dad, I’d write shit about her. All the things she’d done to me that day, which was only good when Dad or my brothers were around. Once they were gone, she’d show her ass.”
“But then I’d write shit like how sad I am, and why does no one like me? That was usually for my Dad to see. When I became a teenager, I got a lotta shit out of him with that tactic.”
“And you feel no shame, I gather.”
“Shame? What the hell is that? I treat everyone according to how they treat me, and I’ll be the first to admit that my first inclination is murder. Most people have to talk themselves into killing someone; I have to talk myself out of it. The thing is, they never know.”
“Totally understandable. So, maybe you can start keeping a journal and leaving it around for me to find; that way, I’d know what to expect from one day to the next.”
“No thanks! I do not need my feelings about you written into posterity.”
“What are you trying to say?” He sounded salty.
“You know exactly what I’m saying. But don’t worry, you’ll know if I plan to kill you.”
“Oh? How so?”
“I’ll drop little hints here and there, and I’m sure you’ll be able to see it in my face since you know me so well and all.”
I smirked at him and looked out the window. He grabbed me and tried to smother me with his tongue. “Don’t start anything back here that you can’t finish.” He acted as if he’d just remembered the driver.
“Shit! How hungry are you?”
He has a quaint and absolutely gorgeous pied a terre in the seventh arrondissement with a full staff that could whip up a sandwich or some crepes with no problem. “Let’s go home.”
“We’re back!” Goodness, it was good to be home. I left Garrett at the door of our new home and went inside. I used to visit these walls every summer at least once a week from the age of nine until I left for college.
This old antebellum mansion that had been once owned by a very prestigious railroad magnet and had been in his family for generations had been left pretty much the way it was back in the nineteenth century.
They don’t build houses like this these days, that’s for sure. The walls had been done while we were away and Garrett had had the furnishing reupholstered with the same fabric and print. I’m sure it had cost him a mint.
I didn’t even know that he had done all this until we were on the plane on our way here. His valet, yes, he has one, brought in our bags, but then I heard more than one voice in the corridor, and I turned to see a line of people standing there in uniform.
“Oh, hello!” I held out my hand to shake the hand of the man standing closest to me. I went down the line greeting the men and women, who, I would soon find out, were the household staff.
There was a butler, a chief housekeeper, a couple maids, no joke, a couple drivers, groundskeepers, head gardener… My head started pounding by the sixth or seventh person in line. I kept looking over at him with a ‘Are you fucking serious’ look on my face.
By the time we made it upstairs to the master suite, which has always been my favorite room in the house, with its silk walls, literally, walls covered in damask silk, high ceilings, and a large trundle canopy bed, I was in total awe.
Garrett had had the furniture cleaned and shined to within an inch of its life and the walls here had been reupholstered as well. I kept turning around in circles with a cheesy grin on my face. “I can’t believe you bought it. Thank you.”
“It’s yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s in your name. There are some things we have to keep up with since it’s a historical site, but it’s yours.”
