“I have a hard time believing that. My father stays very true to his beliefs.”
Using the hand with the burning cigarette, Andrew points in the direction of the ballroom. “You think your dad likes Terry Clark?”
“I know he doesn’t.” My father loathes that man.
“Yet this is your father’s party, and Terry Clark was invited. That man treats all women like dirt, but he’s on the invite list to every fund-raising function because he has money and he owns a lot of people in the right spots, and your dad is smart. He knows if he wants the programs that are going to make the world a better place, then he has to make deals with the devil himself. Terry Clark included. Your dad takes money from Clark, and with the amount of money Clark gives, he expects his phone call to be answered.”
“Dad doesn’t bow down to Terry.”
“Not on all things he doesn’t, but he bends on some. In order to win, you have to lose. That includes your precious morals you wrap yourself in.”
“That’s not how it should be.”
“Is and should are two different things. You know this—at least deep down you do. You kept your mouth shut with Clark tonight because you instinctively know how to play the game. Just like your dad.”
“My father is a good man.”
“Your father knows how to get things done. He knows how to take care of the greater good. That, Elle, is politics.”
“How Machiavellian of you.”
“I’m assuming you’re referring to me being smart.”
“I was aiming for deceptive. You know, the bad part?”
“Morality is subjective. Being king and making sure your country is safe and solid means making tough choices. Your dad knows how to make the choices for the greater good.”
“My father fights for everyone.”
“Your father invited Terry Clark.”
Pure fury and my voice rings out into the night. “If my father saw what happened tonight between me and Terry, he would have stepped in.”
Andrew meets my glare, holds it for a few seconds, then drops his cigarette, grinding it out with his shoe. “We’ve been gone for too long. Are you ready?”
I stand, Andrew reclaims his suit coat, shakes off the dirt, puts it on, then offers his arm. Another part of my soul sends a warning shock at the idea of caving in and accepting his offer. “I need a few more minutes on my own.”
“Suit yourself. But if your mom and dad ask where you’re at, I’m not covering for you.”
Andrew returns to the hotel, and I lean my head back wishing the clouds would part and I could find some stars. Searching the night sky can negate all the things that weigh me down and make me feel I’m drowning. Some people hate knowing they’re such a small piece of the universe, but I prefer it. Makes my problems seem less encompassing.
Footsteps and I glance over my shoulder. A shadow rounds the corner, and I ease closer to the door, my fingers gripping the handle. While I’d like my few minutes alone, I’m not suicidal.
But then a familiar face enters the light, and so much happiness explodes from me I could be compared to a supernova. “How did you know I’d be out here?”
Drix is no longer in the suit from earlier, but in a pair of jeans that hang loosely off his hips, and he’s in the same snug T-shirt as when he was in my room. “I didn’t. I needed to clear my head.”
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Drix rubs the back of his neck. “Sometimes I have demons that like to ride me hard, and being outside helps scrape them off.”
I want to ask what the demons are he’s referring to, but if he wanted me to know, he’d tell me. “I don’t know about you, but that fund-raiser was pretty brutal.”
“You okay?” he asks as he shoves his hands into his pockets.
“I will be. I’m not interested in Andrew.”
His eyebrows methodically rise, and I can’t read if he thinks what I said was crazy or interesting.
“I’ve told you about Andrew, but I thought I should clarify that Andrew and I are barely friends, and most days I lean toward thinking he should be neutered.”
“This is you being direct again.”
“I thought it would be easier than lying in bed tonight, staring at the ceiling, wishing I had said that to you. Then imagining a million scenarios of how I could drop it in conversation later because, while I danced with him, I like you.”
I like him. I said it out loud, and while it’s obvious I like Drix as a friend, I like him as more than a friend. There’s this surge of excitement and fear, and waiting for him to respond is absolutely painful.
“I was thinking.” Drix watches the ground, not me, and I hate the distance that’s between us when we were so close earlier. “Maybe your family and your dad’s staff have it right. Maybe we should stay away from each other.”
Blood drains from my face. “But I like you.”
“I’m no good for you.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m right.” Drix steps back, widening the gap between us, and the action feels so heartbreakingly dismissive. “I’m drawn to you, but if this goes bad, I have too much to lose.”
His words strike me like a sword. “That doesn’t sound like you’re bad for me. That sounds like I’m bad for you.”
“I’m on probation. I mess this up, they don’t pat me on my head and send me to my room. I go to prison. Not juvenile detention. Prison. And the last thing I want or need is prison. This isn’t a game. This is my life. Two weeks ago, when we found Thor, I almost kissed you. Kissed you. The governor’s daughter. And, Elle, if I’m alone with you again, I’ll do it. I’ll kiss you and I’ll want to keep kissing you and I’ll want to keep holding you. My life falls apart if this goes wrong.”
“Then we don’t let it go wrong.”
His arms go out from his sides as if I should be understanding something I’m obviously not. “We don’t get to decide which way it goes.”
“Yes, we do. We decide. We make it happen.”
Drix scrubs a hand over his face, and just the fact he’s struggling hurts. “That asshole touched you tonight, and you let him.”
My body goes numb, and it’s hard to catch a thought. That man did touch me. In ways that weren’t okay, and...as much as I hate myself...I did let him. I didn’t push his hands away, I didn’t scream, I didn’t slap his face. I compromised myself.
Drix looks like a bomb ready to detonate, and I’m the one keeping the wires from meeting. But there are no wires, there are words, and the wrong ones could cause the explosion.
“He touched you, and I wanted to hurt him. He made you uncomfortable, and I wanted to make him bleed. I can’t feel this way. I can’t have feelings for you. I can’t be the one to smash an asshole’s face in when he treats you like a piece of meat.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” I whisper.
“No, you didn’t, but this is me when I feel. This is who I was before the arrest and who I don’t want to be. As much as I want nothing more than to be around you, as much as I want to touch you and kiss you and hear your laughter and your voice, I can’t. You and me—it can’t happen. Not in public. Not in private. I lost one year of my life, and I can’t lose any more.”
I’m frozen, and Drix breathes hard like he ran a marathon. “I lost a year. A year with my family, a year with my friends, a year I don’t get back. And I meet you. This incredible girl and it kills me that I’m still losing on bull I had nothing to do with. I’m sorry, Elle, but my family needs me, and I don’t want to be the guy who beats the hell out of somebody because they touch you. I can’t be that guy anymore, and I can’t put myself in the position to be tempted. I’m not strong enough. Not yet.”
Drix finally raises his head and looks straight at me. His eyes are thunderclouds on the verge of rain. My heart aches. I’m losing something
amazing before it was even mine. This is it. This is over. The first guy I ever really liked and who liked me back said it’s over.
Air is a struggle as my lungs collapse, but I clear my throat because this is what I’ve been trained to do. Mask the hurt, keep going. “The animal society said they’ll place the puppy’s information on the website for adoption next week. I can stop by, get him and take him to the shelter if you don’t want to wait until they find him a home.”
I think of the cute fur ball I held two weeks ago. I think of how I had hoped to see him again before we turned him over to strangers. It’s easier to focus on him than the sadness. “The no-kill rescue organizations said they don’t have an open spot. So the animal society is our only shot. I hate it because they can’t guarantee he’ll stay alive.”
“He’ll be adopted,” Drix says.
I close my eyes. “I’d give anything if he were mine.” We should have never named him. He became mine then, and losing another dream right now sucks. “I have to go back in, but I’ll come get him when I’m back in town.”
“What about your parents? They’re already mad at you.”
“That’s my choice.”
Drix steps forward. “I’ll take him to the shelter.”
Frustration causes me to choke. “I get it, Drix. You have a lot to lose. I understand, and you’re making the right choice. Taking the dog, not taking the dog, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make it better that the best guy I’ve ever met, the only person I honestly want to be around, can’t be around me. So don’t worry about it. I’ll take the dog.”
“We named him. His name is Thor.”
“No, it’s not. He’ll become whoever his new owners want him to be.”
He flinches as if my words were a slap. “I’ll take care of him.”
Fine. If that’s what he needs to do. Because ripping off Band-Aids is the most humane, I gather the hem of my dress so I won’t trip and place my fingers on the door handle. “Good luck with everything. You deserve the best.”
And I make the mistake of meeting Drix’s eyes. There’s pain in them, and I hate that because Drix deserves better. He deserves that smile I’ve been graced to witness. But I can’t be the girl to put it there, not anymore. “You deserve to be happy.”
I turn away from Drix and go back in to find Andrew.
Hearts and Minds
Kylie Pleasant, USA TODAY
Ellison Monroe, daughter of the current Governor of Kentucky and candidate for the open US Senate seat in the state, is capturing the attention of more than the constituents of her state, but also of the nation.
The seventeen-year-old, on the verge of starting her senior year of high school, has shown herself as not only on the cutting edge of fashion, but as a champion for issues that are important to her generation.
“For years, as children, we are told to be seen and not heard,” Ellison said in her latest speech at the University of Louisville, “but it’s time for us to shed those old rules and learn that our voices are important and need to be heard.”
With social media accounts that have followers in the thousands and are growing daily, Ellison is becoming a force of nature that is having a positive effect on her father’s approval rating among younger voters.
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Hendrix
Thor’s current favorite item to chew on are Holiday’s shoes. Never mind that I’ve given him old socks tied around empty water bottles as toys, Thor keeps returning to the pair of high heels. With his head down and butt up, he growls, attacks and chomps on the shoe like he’s taken down a water buffalo.
Holiday fell in love with him at first sight—otherwise Thor wouldn’t be alive. Axle’s not happy with the additional mouth to feed despite the fact that I’m buying the cheapest food I can find, and I haven’t taken him to a vet since Elle was involved. Keeping him is stupid, but it’s all I have left of Elle.
Two weeks have passed since the fund-raiser. I’ve gone on trips, she’s gone on trips, but they haven’t been together. Don’t know if I should be relieved, but each time, I’m kicked-in-the-balls disappointed.
Holiday, Axle and I are in the living room. Holiday is on her stomach rolling a ball to Thor. When it passes him, he bounces on it with both paws, but when it rolls away, his focus returns to the torn-up shoes.
I’m in the recliner that’s older than me, and every muscle in my back aches. Axle got me a job on his crew hammering in shingles for roofs. When I work, it’s twelve-hour days, hot as hell and doesn’t pay near enough. I sweat buckets and come home dehydrated and famished. I make less than Axle’s paycheck, but it’s money.
Axle’s taking a catnap on the futon. As a part of his training to become a paramedic, he just got off a forty-eight hour ride-along that included extracting a family out of a car that flipped eight times. He was also on duty during a kitchen fire in 110-degree heat index.
The window unit pushes in cold air and a standing fan helps circulate it to the other rooms. The central air unit imploded two days ago, Axle’s car died, Holiday grew a foot overnight and needed new clothes, and roofers/paramedics-in-training might as well work for free.
Each time I go to an event, I hear the governor talk about the upswing of the economy. I hear him talk about bettering people’s lives. I can’t help but wonder whose lives are improving because it’s not the lives of the people who sweat all day. His economic improvement strategies aren’t for the people who are forgotten.
The evening news continues, and as I grab for the remote to change the channel to one of the other six we get through the antenna, Elle’s face appears. Bright blue eyes that aren’t hers, and dark blond hair that’s from a bottle. The remote falls back to my lap.
“The Bluegrass Beauty is making headlines again,” the news anchor says. “Today, it was announced she will be next month’s cover model for the largest magazine in the nation. The magazine’s editor said Ellison Monroe is the epitome of grace, charm and intelligence for this generation of women, citing not only her fashion choices, but Ellison’s involvement in social issues.”
Pictures of Elle at various events fill the screen. Each time Elle is breathtaking yet I don’t see happiness. That smile might fool other people, but it doesn’t fool me. It’s her polite one, the one she uses on everyone else.
“Ellison returned to Kentucky earlier this week from a photo shoot in California and is scheduled to be leaving again soon for Washington, DC, where she’ll be traveling with her parents and Andrew Morton, the grandson of Kentucky’s current and retiring US Senator.”
Cue pictures of Andrew and Elle together. Her on his arm and both dressed to kill, them dancing together at the fund-raiser I had attended, them smiling at each other onstage during her father’s speech.
Jealously is a mean bastard.
The camera returns to the news anchors, and they face each other. “Does this mean Andrew Morton and Ellison Monroe are dating?”
“That has been a very popular question asked of the Monroe camp. Each time, the press is asked to give Ellison her privacy in such matters.”
“That doesn’t sound like a no.” A huge sugary smile that causes me to close my fist.
“No, it doesn’t, and the public appears to be rooting for Ellison and Andrew to become a couple. Andrew is a few years older than Ellison, and insiders have suggested the couple is waiting to make an announcement about their relationship when she turns eighteen this week. On a side note, there are rumors Ellison has been ill since her trip to California. A close family friend confirmed her parents brought a doctor to the house, and IV fluids were administered.”
“Like many other Kentuckians, our thoughts and prayers are with Ellison. In other news—”
I turn off the TV and stand. Elle’s sick? Holiday glances up at me, and so does Thor. Axle cracks his lids open, too. Elle’s sick, and I can’t do a da
mn thing to find out if she’s okay.
It’s like someone reached inside my chest and is squeezing the life out of me. Elle is sick, and I can’t check on her because I told her I was better off without her. I need a release, and a long time ago, that used to be playing the drums.
“Want to go hit something?” Dominic enters from the hallway, echoing the thoughts in my head because that’s where Dominic used to live—in my mind. We were so close that people would mistake us as fraternal twins.
His presence causes me to be off balance as I didn’t hear him enter the house. The kid is the Grim Reaper with his black hair, battle scars and cold blue eyes.
Axle’s gaze darts between me and Dominic, and he rubs at his eyes as he sits up. “You okay, Drix?”
“No,” Dominic answers for me, “he’s not. Come on, let’s go hit.”
“I told you and everyone else, I’m not playing the drums.”
“I wasn’t talking drums. Though you’re an idiot for not playing. You want to make some money? Gigs. We could make bank playing gigs, and we need a drummer for that.”
Dominic doesn’t flinch from the death written on my face. Ignoring the last part of his statement and focusing on the first, he has to be high if he thinks picking a fight with some random guy on the street is in my best interest.
“I’m not talking about that either.” Once again reading my mind. “Come on. Trust me.”
Trust him. Weeks home and Dominic still hasn’t talked about the night I was arrested, and I still don’t know how to be around him.
“You should go,” Holiday says to me, and I feel like an asshole. I promised her I’d try.
I take a step in Dominic’s direction, and, smelling trouble, Axle shoves off the futon. “I’ll come.”
“No, you sleep.” Because Dominic and I need to have it out, and I’m pissed enough that doing this might feel good. I’ll worry about regret later.