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Icalled Cat at least twenty times on Friday night, knowing damn well her phone was turned off. I planned to show up at her apartment Saturday morning, but my father summoned me, citing an emergency that wouldn’t keep.
Even the view of the Boston Seaport from my father’s apartment doesn’t loosen the tension pulling at every one of my muscles. I’ve never particularly liked this space, and after yesterday, I find myself comparing it to the penthouse owned by the Jameses. Somehow, this apartment is more pretentious. More ostentatious.Just more.
And I fucking hate that thought.
Is that how my mother felt? Did the James family entice her more than her own? Was it more than the affair? Was their lifestyle intriguing to her too? Did she long for children who behaved like Carter and Cash? Carter has a sister, too, though I’ve never met her. But I imagine my mother would have liked having a daughter. Did she compare their picture-perfect life to ours and determine that we didn’t measure up?
Ididn’t measure up.
“Fuck this,” I mutter as I undo my tie. I pull at it until it releases completely and ball it in my fist. Carter would never go home in a fucking suit. Why the fuck do I?
My father comes into view, dressed just as formally and standing in the kitchen, sipping what looks like whiskey from a lowball glass.
“Little early, don’t you think, Dad?” I mutter, more to myself but not quietly enough.
He raises his gaze to mine, the nearly black stare meant to chastise me. It’s a wonder my eyes are as light as they are. I inherited my mother’s coloring completely.
“I see someone had a bad night,” he snaps, slamming his glass down, the noise clanging loudly in the empty space. It’s all windows and bare furniture. No pillows, no pictures, no comfort whatsoever.
Kind of like his heart.
I see my future, and it scares the shit out of me.
Blowing out a long breath, I fight for composure. I can’t let him rattle me. Can’t let on that I’malreadyrattled. If he finds out I’m hung up on a girl—a woman—he’ll make sure she disappears. No distractions, no happiness. Nothing but revenge and business. I’ve lived like this for the last ten years, and suddenly, I can’t fathom why.
I’m not sure when I stopped living every moment striving to obtain his goals and instead turned my focus to my own.
Happiness.
I haven’t thought of something so trivial in years.
But something about the way Cat challenged me that first day, denying me her name and number, telling me to earn it, made me look at my life and wonder how—outside of the designer clothes, expensive cars, opulent apartments—I could be worth someone else’s time.
For so long, those material things attracted the kind of attention I wanted. A woman for the night, someone for the now. But who would want to stick around if I have nothing more to offer than work and revenge?
My stomach rolls as I study the liquid in my father’s glass. “Just a little hungover,” I offer as an excuse. “Carter forced me to go out since I haven’t been around much.”
“Good, then it won’t seem strange when you show up at his apartment to place the next SD card. I told you moving out was fucking idiotic. We’re so close, Jonathan. We’ve worked for this for years.”
I avert my attention to the ocean. Anything to avoid his scrutiny. The water is dark and brooding, a formidable opponent that lures us in with its soft waves, lulling us into complacency if we aren’t careful. What I wouldn’t give to dive in and see where it takes me. I’d rather see the hope from the shore than the despair from this angle.
“I want to speed up the timeline,” I say, my attention fixed on the waves. This needs to be over with. Let my father have his revenge. Let James Liquors go bankrupt. Or whatever the mystery plan is. I need to get out of this cycle if I ever want a shot of standing on the shore.
22
LOSING MY RELIGION BY R.E.M.
CAT
The apartment above James Liquors is where my father and mother lived before they had children. When they were falling in love. My mother would often bring us here while my dad worked downstairs. I barely remember that time. Or my mother.
With the ache of that loss tugging at my heart, I sink back into the bed in the guest room. The room, my former nursery, is a light pink with a plush white rug to soften the space. All other reminders of my time in this room have been removed.
After she died, my brothers and I remained in Bristol, Rhode Island—a picturesque small town my mother was determined to reside in while she raised us—with our nannies, while my father stayed here. My father never came home on the weekends. He just disappeared.
My grandparents kicked him out of the penthouse after they fired him. So much of the past and details of those events remain a mystery to me. But even back then, when I came home from school for holidays and the summer, this is where I came. I’d sneak up here, though I’m sure my grandfather knew where I was—nothing happens in this building without his knowledge. But if he did, he never said anything.
It’s been a long time since I’ve stayed here overnight, but I can’t possibly go back to my apartment. I can’t face Mia. She probably knows exactly who Jay is. And the kind of person he is. Hell, she probably knows he was pursuing me. A sick part of me wonders if she was part of it. She’d get a thrill out of being with both of us.
