Ellison
I wear a light gray suit with a fitted white blouse and black flats. My hair is twisted into a bun, but not one of my patented messy ones. This one is slick, makes me look older and wiser than eighteen, and it’s the exact opposite of what my mother’s stylist suggests I should wear for the press conference. Several photographers have mumbled between each other about my glasses. They’re just jealous because I make glasses sexy, and it must suck to not be me.
But the media forgot about me. My mother stands onstage with my father, behind him in a dark blue dress. I stand in the back of the press conference. Everyone assumes I’m here in support, but I’m not. I’m present to make sure my father upholds his end of the deal...blackmail...forceful persuasion. I’m not too picky on how we call this as long as Drix’s name is cleared.
My father comes across as strong and confident as he speaks. Extremely passionate about how when he discovered new evidence that Drix didn’t commit the crime that he decided to dedicate himself to helping Drix be exonerated.
But events moved too rapidly, the real culprit learned on the streets that Drix was on the road to proving his innocence, so my father brought in the police. That one act saved Drix’s life. Bile just crawled up my throat at the utter disgust of how he corrupted the truth.
What is the truth anyway? The truth that my father was prideful? Full of fear? Would that truth possibly protect the program that saved Drix’s life? No, my father’s cowardice would have definitely cost something much needed in the world.
As my father speaks, there’s a shifting of the media’s mood. A winding of a spring, a sprinkling of blood into water full of sharks. They’re circling, waiting for the toe to be dipped in so they can attack.
It’s a dark sensation, and I rub my arms as if the negativity is a fine ash and soot physically on my skin. My father reiterates how successful the Second Chance Program is, how even if asked, Hendrix Pierce, even though he served time for a crime he didn’t commit, will explain to the world how he was on the wrong path and that the program saved his life.
Dad pauses, then steels himself for the coming attack. “I’ll now take questions from press.”
Hands up, people yelling over the other, and their pure glee of something going wrong, at the hint of a scandal, turns my stomach. There’s something terribly wrong with a world that finds joy in other people’s mistakes and pain.
Sickened by the sharp teeth and slick tongues surrounding me, the media and my father included, I leave. Out the door, away from the dark room and head for another door that leads me to sunlight. In the back of the parking lot, Drix must be feeling rebellious as he leans against the hood of my car. The plan was for him to stay in my car so that the media wouldn’t hound him, but he’s probably not as daring as I think. The meat of the story to be feasted upon is inside. Drix, at the moment, is the heart of the story, so of course, no one gives a damn about heart.
Seeing me, Drix widens his stance, and I settle in to hug him between his legs. My head on his shoulder and his arms around my body is enough to wipe away the sludge being in that room created in my veins. I close my eyes and breathe out.
I’ve lost my home, lost my family, lost my way, but the one thing I’ve found is where I belong, and it’s here, with Drix.
“It’s done.” I lift my head and stare into his chocolate-brown eyes. “My father has told the world you’re innocent.”
He closes his eyes briefly, then he looks down at me and caresses my cheek. “I’m sorry it’s cost you so much.”
I lean into his hand as I love his warmth and his strength. “It hasn’t cost me a thing. It broke chains I didn’t even know were killing me.”
“What now?” he asks.
“Besides changing clothes and getting something to eat?” I shake my head as I honestly have no idea.
The first hint of a smile touches his mouth. “I can’t remember the last time I ate.”
My stomach growls, and I frown as I think the same thing. “What do you want?”
“There’s this place off of Third Street. Has great burgers. Want to try?”
One eyebrow goes high above my bang line. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
A sloppy shrug of one shoulder. “Guess so.”
A date, in public. It’s like a caterpillar has broken out of its cocoon, has unfurled its wings for the first time, and the movement is a fantastic fluttering in my chest.
“If you want to wait a few weeks to be seen in public with me,” he starts, but I place a finger over his lips to silence him.
“No, a hamburger sounds fantastic, but to be honest, I would really love some chicken wings.”
Drix chuckles, I smile along with him, and his hands come up from my waist to frame my face. I melt into a puddle when he kisses me.