Chapter One
Sydney
“You’re famous.”
I tossed my purse and slid into the booth across from my best friend. “Oh yeah?” I asked, taking the coffee that waited on me. “Is it a good picture this time?”
She chuckled over her bagel and pushed the Savannah Tribune newspaper toward me. I held my drink in one hand above my head, the other one laced into the guy’s hair dancing behind me.
Princess of the Henry’s Hunting World empire partied until sunrise last Saturday Night.
I shook my head. “So this is why my mother’s been callin’ me all morning.”
Frankie lifted a dark brow. “You’ll have to talk to her eventually. Friday night dinner is coming up.”
I pretended to gag. “Don’t remind me. Let’s not talk about my family. How’s everything going with you?”
She shrugged, her eyes skated down to her drink. “It’s good.”
“How about let’s try the truth this time? How’s it going with Jeremy?”
A small smile curled at the corner of her mouth. “We went out Saturday.”
I spread the strawberry jelly onto my bagel. “Ah, that’s why I received an ‘I’m busy’ text, right? Didn’t he want to talk to you about something? What was it?”
She bit her lower lip, and her eyes cast down to her hand resting on the table. I knew without looking what it was. And I knew why she waited to tell me. She’d been trying to hide her happiness from me for over a year. We’d been best friends since elementary; she used to tell me everything.
It tore me apart. Just because I couldn’t make a relationship work, and part of me didn’t want to make it work, she felt she needed to hide her joy. It wasn’t a secret that the notches on my belt had grown in the last few years. I wasn’t proud of being easy; I just needed to fill something I lacked on the inside. The side of me that craved affection had taken over when I was twenty-two. Three years ago. And it was slowly eating me alive.
After Ryder died. After my entire world went up in flames. My parents blamed me; I know they did. Because it was my fault. My eyes briefly dropped to the infinity tattoo etched into the inside of my wrist, but I pushed it aside and looked up into Frankie’s dark eyes.
“You’re engaged, Frankie?”
Frankie’s eyes lowered, and it hit my gut. She deserved to be happy. “Frankie, I’m so excited for you. You know that I want you to be happy, right? This is fantastic news.”
Frankie licked her lips and leaned forward to grab my hands. I admired her almond shaped eyes and the beautiful tan color of her skin. Her grandmother was Native American, and it showed. “It won’t change things. We’ll still be able to hang out.”
She meant she’ll still be there for my breakdowns after a guy disappeared again. “Frankie,” I whispered, leaning forward. “You’re my best friend. I know that’ll never change. Now tell me how he proposed.”
Her face lit up. “He took me to the first place we met. The party down at the lake, remember?”
I did. I’d been so drunk when Frankie said the cops were coming. She told me about Jeremy on the way home while she stopped numerous times to hold my hair back. “Of course. So, am I going to be your maid of honor or what?”
She squealed. “Will you be? I wanted to do something cute, like send you a cupcake and a card. You know, don’t people do that? But you called me out on it before I got the chance.”
I giggled. “Who cares? The cupcake would only go straight to my ass. We’ve got to plan the best wedding ever!”
She nodded. “I know, and I can’t think of a better person to help me.”
All the joy on her face made me smile. Even though a nagging voice in the back of my head taunted me. You’ll never have that. I wanted Frankie to be happy even more.
I grinned. “Me?”
She nodded. “You.”
Our waitress refilled our coffees, drawing my attention to two older women staring at me from the bar. If anyone tells you that southern people mind their own business, they’re a dirty liar. They weren’t doing a good job of hiding their nasty sneers, but I guess they never meant to hide them.
I flipped one of them the bird, then commotion caught my attention from the front entrance. The guy from the newspaper charged toward me. The guy I’d drank and danced with all Saturday night. The guy I’d been underneath the following morning. By the angry scowl on his face, I figured the euphoria, or alcohol, whichever you prefer, had worn off.
He slammed the newspaper down on the table, rattling our coffee cups. “Get this out of the fuckin’ news,” he whispered, his southern accent stronger than I remembered.
I sat back in my seat. “Get out of my face. I can’t make them take it out. Unfortunately, it’s news in this fuckin’ town,” I whispered.
He gave me a cruel smile. “Everyone knows your daddy gets stuff done around here. Now I advise you to call him and get it reprinted and all the other ones burned.”
“Look, my dad can’t fix this. It’s out. Everyone knows. There is no way someone can get rid of all the newspapers. They’ve been distributed, moron. And even if he could get it reprinted, everyone’s already seen it.”
The angry scowl was back. I couldn’t even see why I’d gone home with him anymore. But I guess alcohol has its way of masking the things we don’t want to see. “My mother can’t find out I slept with the town’s slut, Sydney. She’d die of a heart attack.”
My heart sank into my stomach. I’d heard it before, but never like this. Embarrassment flooded me, and breathing seemed to be the only thing I could do. Despite the growing ache in my stomach, I forced a smile at him.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Frankie snapped. “Or I’ll get you kicked out. Maybe that’ll give the newspapers something new to talk about.”
Aaron gritted his teeth but seemed to notice that we’d caused a scene. “I’m dead because of you.”
I shrugged. “It takes two to tango, kid.”
“You’d know.”
My heart raced as I watched him stalk away. I was humiliated. Frankie grabbed my shoulder and tossed down a twenty. “Come on. Don’t you need to get to your office?”
She knew I wanted to leave. Everyone probably knew I wanted to leave. I nodded, grabbed my purse and let Frankie whisk me to safety. Tears had coated my cheeks by the time I got to my car. A snotty nose cry lingered close by waiting for its turn to break me down.
“I took the bus this morning. Let me drive you.”
Wiping the tears from my face, I smiled over at her. “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up? You know I hate when you use the bus.”
She brushed her black hair from her shoulder. “I can protect myself, Syds.”
I held my hands up in surrender. “Of course. But it’s gross. All those germs.”
She smiled. “Let me drive you to your office. My house is only two blocks from there.”
The wind blew against my face, and I felt how tight my cheeks were from my tears. God, I must look ridiculous. “I’m fine, but okay. At least you won’t have to take the bus.”
Frankie drove me the few blocks to the small art gallery on Pecan St. I’d stared into the building for weeks before Mr. Scott asked if I’d like to come in. I refused. My parents had told me art wouldn’t get me where I needed to be in life. That didn’t stop me from drawing or painting at school. I loved it.
If anyone said they saw me in the art gallery, I’d be harassed by my mother about it. And she’s one stubborn bitch, emphasis on the bitch.
After six weeks of window shopping between classes, I finally went inside. Screw my parents, right? They couldn’t tell me what to do with the only life I’ll ever have. Mr. Scott stood at the front desk when I walked in. That one step into his gallery had turned my world around. He’d showed me around the shop, and asked if I painted. When I showed him the painting I’d snuck out of the house, he’d offered me a job teaching one of his beginner classes on Saturday mornings.
That had been two years ago. Now I taught four classes a week, and was Mr. Scott’s right-hand woman. My parents knew about it. I announced at family dinner that I’d changed my major. You would have thought I’d told them I couldn’t have children. “Here we are,” Frankie said.
I sighed as I got out of the car. “Thanks, Frankie. I’ll be here for the rest of the day if you need me.”
She frowned and handed me my keys. “Okay. I’m really sorry about earlier. Aaron’s a dick.”
Yeah, he was. But that didn’t change the fact that I’d slept with him. Or that he’d call me a slut in front of the damn coffee house. “I know. I’m okay, swear.”
Frankie didn’t believe me; I saw it in her eyes. I’d ruined her telling me about her engagement because a guy was ashamed he’d slept with me. Vomit rose in my throat. “I’m sorry about ruining your big news.”
Frankie wrapped her arms around me. “Nope,” she whispered. “No more sadness. Why don’t we go out Friday night after your family dinner?”
“You need to spend time with Jeremy.”
Frankie rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You’re blowin’ me off. I’ll pick you up at seven. Be ready.”
She didn’t give me time to answer before she started home. I walked into the gallery and found Mr. Scott leaning over the counter with his eyes at half-mast.
“Someone stayed up watching Sons of Anarchy on Hulu.”
His big belly wiggled when he laughed. He always reminded me of a typical seventies dad. Big brown glasses, child molester mustache, and yellow stripped shirts. There was nothing stylish about Mr. Scott, but the son-of-a-bitch knew about art. I loved every one of his Hawaiian shirts. “You know me too well, Sydney. You’re a little early. Gonna get some work finished on your latest?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. That’s what I planned to do. Whenever the class gets here, just send them on down.”
“No problem.”
I knew my mother stood behind me before she spoke. The smell of her Chanel perfume attacked the room like an airborne disease.
There was no way Mr. Scott let her in, so I assumed she slithered in when he wasn’t looking. “I never did understand how this was considered art, but who asked me?”
“Right, who asked you?” I asked without turning around.
The dark swirls of grey and black weren’t something I expected her to understand. That would have meant she tried. It didn’t take a psychiatrist to figure out that she didn’t give a damn about my art—hell, or me.
Something crashed behind me, and I spun around to see my stapler on the floor. Mother grinned over at me. Think southern debutante meets stepford wife, and you’ve got my mother. Perfect blonde hair, a million-dollar smile and a perfectly ironed dress every day. Like every single day.
“So mature of you,” I said. “What are you doin’ here? I thought we made it clear that neither of us wants you down here.”
She slammed the newspaper down on my desk. Damn, that’s happened twice today already. “So what?”
“You know what, you selfish girl.” She shook her head. “Your dad’s reputation is only going to go downhill from here. Can you not think about anyone other than yourself?”
I gritted my teeth. “I went out to have a good time, Mother. It’s a picture. At least my clothes are on.”
She scoffed. “Hardly.”
The skirt was short, and the shirt low-cut. I was sure she’d seen worse. “It doesn’t matter. You need to leave.”
“Sydney,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You’re never gonna change, are you? You’ll never find a husband if you keep up your track record. It’s nasty and trashy. You’re neither of those things. Now stop before you’re cut out of the will.”
A laugh slipped from my mouth. I felt so lost in a room with the person that brought me into the world. The person who raised me. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the will. I don’t care about hunting supplies, or the family business.”
“You’ve made it evidently clear, my darling.” She straightened her shoulders and watched me with lifeless eyes. “Sydney you’re embarrassing our entire family.
I turned my head to the side. “That’s impossible. I haven’t been part of the family for three years.”
Mother’s face morphed into anger. I knew she had the same image in her head as I did. An image of Ryder. But while the image made me sad, it made her mad. “I’ve had it up to here.” She tossed her hand up to her forehead. “You’re gonna regret acting this way.”
The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway and stopped my tears from falling. “My class is here; you need to leave.”
I listened to the sound of her heels click against the tile. “I don’t have many choices left, Sydney.”
I didn’t response.
“I hope you’re happy,” she snapped. “Because you won’t be for long.”
“I am.”
But we both knew I wasn’t.