Chapter Nineteen
Ricky
AVELINE LIVED IN downtown Indianapolis. Her street was filled with large stone homes built in the early 1900s. The homes resembled small castles, some with turrets, others with stone lions perched on either end of the driveway. There were wrought iron gates and fancy security systems. I imagined cooks inside kitchens and butlers answering front doors.
But when I knocked at 1100 Meridian Drive, Aveline was the one to open the front door. My breath caught in my throat as I took her in.
She looked much more casual than I had ever seen her in class. Gray sweatpants that were humungous but adorable on her. Pink fuzzy socks peeked out from the floppy ends of the pants. Her fitted pink thermal hugged her small perky breasts, and I tore my eyes away, my nerve endings tingling at the sight. Her same glasses perched on her nose, but in the bright light of the foyer I could see her gray eyes sparkling behind the frames. Brown waves of hair hung down her shoulders and I itched to touch the smooth, glossy locks.
“Hey.” I stepped into the house, slipping my sunglasses off my face and into my pocket. Aveline shut and locked the door behind me. “You look… nice… er, cute… I mean.” I coughed into my hand, feeling my face flush. What was wrong with me? There would be no flirting. That wasn’t why I was here.
Aveline let out a surprised giggle. “I thought if we weren’t going anywhere, I might as well be comfy.” Her eyes traveled from my face down my body, her cheeks flushing pink when she landed on pecs, traveling lower still to my crotch.
“No, I mean yes. You should be comfortable. I pretty much always wear the same thing, huh?” My laugh was hard and awkward. Joking about fashion was not my forte.
“Sure, but if you look like that in jeans and boots, who cares? And you have different colored shirts. You change it up. White, grey, black… I think I saw a blue one, once.” Aveline babbled. She finally stopped herself and froze, her grey eyes widening.
Holy hell, but she was cute. She had noticed the colors of my shirt. And she liked the clothes I wore. I’d wondered if she found my look trashy or below her. Perhaps not.
Before my brain could register the action, my hand rose. I wanted to touch her face, feel her skin. My conscience grumbled, reminding me why I was here and not to be a fool. I jerked my hand away, shoving it into my pocket.
There was a low bark that came from her side. I looked down where a fucking scary-looking Doberman sat perfectly still and alert next to Aveline.
She snapped, and the dog stood up, the lower half of his body shaking as his nub of a tail wagged vigorously. “Say hello, Tobias,” Aveline told the dog, her voice firm and commanding.
The dog barked again, this one high-pitched and friendly. I extended my hand, letting him sniff it before I petted his head.
“Good boy, now go lie down.” Aveline clapped three times and Tobias trotted into the next room, curling up on a pillowed dog bed.
Aveline’s gaze lingered on the dog before she slowly turned back to me. “Where do we start?”
My eyes watched her lips as she formed the words, a light sheen on them that looked like gloss. Was it flavored? If so, what would it taste like? Strawberry? Cherry?
“Ricky?” Aveline asked, jolting me back to reality.
“Sorry.” I shook my head. Bending down, I pulled out the project sheet from Dr. Redmond. “Are your parents’ home?” I forced my voice to sound natural, while my heart began to gallop in my chest. I needed to see them. Meet them. Figure out how I could get them to help us.
“No,” Aveline said quickly, looking quite pleased as she explained. “They wouldn’t want me to have friends over, so I had to set this up when they were at work.”
My heart sank, but I bit the inside of my cheek to school my expression of disappointment. “Okay, then. Today I learn about you and your life, minus the parents I guess. I have the list of questions for our research.” I scanned the paper for a minute. “Start with a tour?”
On the home visit section of our report, each partner must learn where the other lives. This included the type of food they ate, the medicines they took, leisure activities, and employment.
Aveline nodded and gestured to her left. “This is my father’s office. I think I mentioned before that he’s a professor.” She opened the glass door and I walked into a room the size of my family room. A long dark brown desk filled the middle of the space, gleaming from polish. A tall, padded leather chair sat behind it. Books overflowed shelves that took up the wall space not filled with floor to ceiling windows. A deep red paint covered the walls with an intricate red and black rug in the center of the room, and a brown leather sofa placed on it. I looked around, taking in the knowledge and education the room exuded.
Shit, this was only the office and it was one of the nicest rooms I’d ever seen. Bitterness stirred in my gut. I wanted to tamp it down and not allow the fumes of resentment to poison my time with Aveline.
But it was hard to separate her from them. I had to try, though. I had to.
Aveline sighed. “He spends most of his time in here. Reading, studying, and writing.”
Was he reading or writing when the accident happened? Is that why Aveline almost drowned? Were her wealthy parents too wrapped up in their careers to notice their daughter had wandered off? Rage caused my heart to pound, thumping in my chest so loudly I worried Aveline could hear it.
She turned, not inviting questions and or comments and led me across the foyer and into a fancy family room. “Standard living room. No one really uses it. I guess it’s here to look pretty.”
My blood heated as I looked around. White couches with carved wooden claw feet faced each other in the middle. Again, a beautiful cream rug protected the hardwood floors. Elegant end tables flanked the couches, with a white marble fireplace at the end of the room. Could I or anyone in my family ever imagine having a room that was there for the sole purpose to look pretty? Furniture that was never used, placed for show?
Of course not, because we were poor. Aveline was not. I followed her back into the foyer where a circular table stood down the hall, a huge vase of red roses filling the center. Behind the table a curved staircase led upstairs. I followed Aveline to the left and into a dining room.
“We don’t eat in here much. Only on holidays.” Aveline walked around the room, her fingertips trailing on the glossy wooden table top. A small, matching vase of red roses sat in the middle of this table.
A rock formed in my stomach. This table could seat twelve people. Each matching chair had a cushioned, white seat. To the side was a buffet table, a silver tea set sitting on top of a matching silver tray. This room screamed old money. Richy rich money. God, I was right to push her away. Opposites didn’t begin to cover it when it came to us.
Through the second door we entered a sunroom, complete with matching wicker furniture and rugs. She didn’t stop, letting yet another room of unused excess speak for itself before we entered the kitchen.
Here my jaw dropped. Thinking of my own battered kitchen, worn and chipped cabinets from years of abuse, beat up counters and table, I couldn’t imagine seeing a space like this every day. Everything was white, clean, new, and sparkling.
Aveline opened a pantry that was just a tad smaller than my parents’ bedroom. I peeked in, taking in shelf after shelf of food, organized in clear, labeled containers and baskets that housed dry goods and snacks.
“Did you want to make a few notes on food?” Aveline placed her hand lightly on my wrist, guiding it and the paper she held closer to read. “It says dinner examples.” Her eyes shifted down and to the side, avoiding me. “I hate to say it with a kitchen this beautiful and a pantry stocked full of unused food, but we don’t cook in here much.”
The rock in my stomach grew to a boulder. “My mom cooks”—I leaned down to hear her whispering—“when she needs to communicate with me. To give her time to let me know what we will need to work on or improve. She likes things to be… perfect. Or as close to that as possible.” She looked up at me, a hint of shine in her eyes. “Otherwise, it’s carryout sushi, Indian, Thai.” Her shoulders slumped.
The boulder shrank smaller. Every time I thought I had her pegged, she surprised me. In all of her casual comments about her wealth, I never picked up a sense of entitlement or that she was spoiled. She seemed resigned, even sad.
My brain processed her last comments as I followed her up the stairs. To let me know what we will need to work on or improve. She likes things to be… perfect.
Hell, Aveline. She had her troubles too, that much was quickly becoming clear. Every time I became assuaged toward her, the monster inside me grew. Papa was what I needed to focus on. Not her, the girl who had it all.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I croaked.
Aveline pointed down the hall, near the front door. “Powder room is the second door on the left next to my father’s office.” She pulled out her phone and began scrolling, so I walked away.
Looking over my shoulder, I noticed she wasn’t following. I checked twice, three times before I bypassed the powder room and headed into the office. Kneeling by the desk, I rustled through a section of papers on top.
Perfect. Bills.
Pulling out my phone, I enabled the camera and clicked away. Security company statement and bank account numbers would suffice. Making sure I left everything the way I found it, I darted into the bathroom and flushed the toilet.
On my way back into the kitchen, I was sure my face was red, but Aveline only smiled, leading me up a back staircase.
She stopped at the top, her hand on a door knob in the long wood paneled hallway. “I’m only going to show you my room on this level. My mom wouldn’t want me giving a tour of her room. Besides that, there’s only a guest room up here.” She opened the door to her bedroom and my jaw dropped for the second time today.
Her room was huge; she even had a fancy ceiling like Landon had in his room growing up. The tray ceiling, I think they were called, was painted to resemble a beautiful blue and white cloud filled sky. Her king-sized bed looked like a puffy cloud itself. A stately carved ivory headboard held masses of white pillows and a bright white comforter. Her room was carpeted in a cream, shaggy style that made me want to take off my boots and feel it between my toes. Her furniture all matched her headboard; a bookcase, nightstands, dresser, and a vanity with a fur covered stool and lit mirror. She had a flat screen television on top of the monstrous dresser, stacks of DVD’s filled a basket on the floor next to it.
The thought hit me for the first time. “Aveline?” I waited for her attention to come to me. “Do you have other televisions in your house?”
She shook her head. “My mom’s not a fan of television. I’ve always been allowed to have one in my room, but otherwise, no.”
Odd. Most people I knew watched television or movies. With a house this size, I’d expect a television in every room. I looked at her nightstand where a top of the line Bluetooth speaker sat. I hadn’t noticed stereos or speakers in the house either. Only books. Lots of books.
My eyes scanned her bookcase and I stopped on a framed picture. It was the only one I could see in the room. Aveline stood in between her parents, all three smiling in front of a Christmas tree. Aveline’s mother and father were on the smaller side, though Aveline was even slighter. Her father had thinning gray hair and dark thick glasses, while her mom wore her brown hair pulled back. I imagined it was styled in a knot or a bun like how Aveline frequently did hers. Her mom’s face, though smiling, was pinched. The expression struck me, and I couldn’t look away. It was as if she was holding onto Aveline, her smile forced to keep herself glued together.
“Where are pictures of your friends?” My voice sounded rough, I think because I was anticipating her answer. Homeschool, no dates, parents against television and music… Little Aveline was awkward and sheltered. And while the question about friends and support systems was on the report sheet, I dreaded the answer.
She shook her head, her small rosebud lips pursed together.
My stomach bottomed out. It could drop no further. My hatred grew even deeper for her parents. Not only had they been the cause of my father’s accident, but they had hurt their daughter too. Not physically, sure, but by smothering her and treating her as if she was as fragile as she looked. I didn’t know her well, but I knew Aveline had some fight in her.
A ping filled the quiet air and Aveline looked down at the iPad sitting on her bed, a smile breaking free across her face. “I applied for a full-time job last week as an interpreter in the public school system. I think this will be good news! I feel it. They had an opening and I’m fully certified with a high GPA.” She sat on her bed cross-legged and clapped her hands together before tapping on the screen of the iPad.
I watched her face as she read the email. Her eyes moved back and forth, and her smile slipped, her lips turning down into a frown.
I sat across from her, keeping my dirty boots away from her white bedding. My heart already hurt for her, just from watching the joy wash away from her. She again reminded me of a butterfly, her small limbs like delicate wings, her body poised and ready to fly if only she got the chance to be free.
The silence surrounded us, but I waited, wanting her to break it when she was ready and not because I pushed.
“They turned me down.” Her voice was flat, chin trembling. She tossed the iPad away from her on the mattress, wringing her hands together in her lap. “The head of HR said that they were informed by a reference that I wasn’t ready for the position. I was too young. Too inexperienced.”
She ripped her glasses off, tossing them to the side as she wiped at her eyes. Her voice sounded choked, like she was fighting her tears away. “I just know it was my mom. She’s the one who isn’t ready to let go. But, how can I learn? How can I get experience if no one will give me a chance? I keep asking, pleading, pushing, to live my life and no one will let me. Not my mom, not even you—”
I kissed her.
Cutting off her words, my wide, rough, hungry lips found her small, thin ones, and pressed against them, coaxing and moving until she opened them, our tongues meeting at the same time. Electricity shot through me, shocking me to the core, and I pulled back.
“Sorry,” she spoke, her eyes closed. “That was my first kiss. Did I mess up?”
My chin dropped to my chest, as an ache grew in my stomach. Goddamn, I was a motherfucker. Me, her first kiss? A guy who was downstairs collecting information to blackmail her parents for money?
“Did I? Mess up?” She asked, hesitantly, biting on her lower lip.
I looked up, her gray eyes the color of a stormy sky, and my desire for her connection made my hideous reason for being here disappear. Right now, I wanted this with her more than anything else.
“No. You were perfect.” My voice was raspy, restraint making my throat hurt.
She smiled. “Okay. Can we do it again?”
Fuck, she was sweet. How could I say no? My hands found her hips, pulling her closer to me.
Aveline ran her hands up my shirt and she fisted the fabric, moaning into my mouth as my little butterfly came alive, ready for flight.
Damn the consequences. I flew along right beside her.