All along, he’s seen me as the wife of a politician, one he can carry in his hip pocket to use for favors and influence when he needs it. He’s raised and groomed a pawn, nothing more. And the realization is devastating.
All sorts of random memories come crashing down around me—my father asking me to sing for an Asian diplomat when I was a child; my father refusing to let me date any boys other than the sons of his influential friends; my father getting me into law school when I was still undecided on my major; my father introducing me to all the “right friends” in law school; my father asking me to wear a nearly transparent dress and “forget” my underwear when I went with him to dinner on an oil tycoon’s yacht. I was seventeen at the time. I didn’t object because I was always so happy when Daddy gave me attention, I didn’t care what it was he was asking me to do. It’s been that way all my life, anything to win Daddy’s approval, anything for a smile or a pat on the head. As far back as I can remember, I’ve been vying for his attention, begging for his love and doing anything to get the tiniest drop of it. I didn’t even realize how twisted it was or what a monster I was becoming. Like my father, I gave no thought to anyone but myself and saw everything and everyone as a means to an end. My end. My father’s end.
I’ve been the ultimate party favor since I was able to “perform.” A whore. Not always for money and not always using sex, but a whore nonetheless.
Like living a lifetime in a daze, I feel shell-shocked and bruised, bruised by the harsh light of reality.
Since the kidnapping, I’ve felt like a stranger in the world around me. Now I know why. It was a lie. All of it. One big lie.
Feeling claustrophobic, I slip on some slacks and heels and grab my purse. I need to focus on something real, something genuine. If not, I might shatter like a crystal goblet, explode into a shower of diamond-bright drops that hit the ground and disappear into nothingness.
Tears are streaming down my face as I climb into my car and race down the street, away from the familiar. My phone signals that another text has come in. I glance at it and my heart squeezes even tighter inside my chest.
Two words. From someone I’ll never be good enough for.
U ok?
I ignore it as my sobs fill the quiet interior of the car. Purposely, I think of Olivia. I owe her what little bit of goodness I might have inside me. I owe it to her to get the dangerous associations of her boyfriend’s family off the streets, to get her out of harm’s way if I can.
I guide the car to the jeweler that my family and most of the partners at the firm have always used to buy gems and settings that dazzle. I laugh bitterly as I pull into a spot outside the small, unassuming shop.
I’d always thought we were in the business of justice, albeit the corporate, financial kind. But that was never the case, I feel sure. I think on some level, I always suspected my father used influential people to get certain things, but I never wanted to see it. I never really wanted to see past the beautiful lie of the outside. I went along with it all. I let him use me in some of his manipulations. Because I was weak.
Like the jewelry my father purchased here, I was nothing more than a shiny bauble to dangle in front of just the right people. Without even realizing it, I was in the business of bedazzling people. And I learned from the best how to use something bright and shiny to distract others from what lies beneath. I’m nothing more than a diamond-encrusted space. I’m hollow on the inside. Full of nothingness. Empty.
Wiping my eyes, I drag myself from behind the wheel. A delicate bell signals my entrance to the store. An attendant greets me in the foyer. She calls me by name.
“Ms. Townsend, so nice to see you again. What can we help you find today?”
“Something emerald. For a friend.”
The shop is set up so that there are different foci in different areas. You can walk from room to room via adjoining doors, but if you know what you want, an attendant will simply take you to the room with the type of jewelry or stone you’re looking for. I know from past experiences that emeralds, rubies, and pearls are in the third room on the left, so I follow the girl down the long, wide hallway, glancing in at each luxuriously appointed room as we pass.
A familiar profile catches my eye and my step falters. I’d probably recognize it anywhere, especially in a place like this where his ponytail and goatee are particularly out of place.
It’s Nash. But what in the world is he doing here? He’d said he was with Cash, which means he lied.
He’s alone in the room, with only one male attendant. He’s looking at bracelets, likely diamond ones considering which area he’s in. But why? And for whom?
He had to have asked Cash where he could go for jewelry. This place isn’t exactly on the beaten path. But why would he lie? Unless he didn’t want me to know, didn’t want me to ask questions.
I feel betrayed and near tears, and I jump when the attendant speaks to me. “Would you like to look at the diamond bracelets instead?”
“Uh, no. No, I’m only interested in emeralds.”
I hurry to move away from the doorway, unwilling to get caught in such a humiliating situation. My feet feel leaden as I follow the girl farther into the back of the store. I’m having trouble focusing on why I even came to the jewelry store in the first place. My enthusiasm for picking out a wonderful present for Olivia is even more dampened now.
It only takes me a few minutes to find the perfect gift for her, but I browse a lot longer. I don’t want to risk running into Nash.
Nearly forty-five minutes later, I make the purchase so I can leave. On my way out, I look cautiously into each room as I head down the hall toward the exit. I’m relieved that there seems to be no sign of Nash.
As I’m getting into the car, my phone sounds again. It’s a text. And it makes my heart hurt. Again.
U ok?
Again, I ignore it. Nash is playing games that are far beyond my ability to withstand. I thought I could take the heat, but I think I gave myself way too much credit.
I refuse to shed any of the tears that threaten the backs of my eyes. I give myself a quiet talking-to, something to help me keep my focus where it needs to be.
I’m going home to pack a small bag and then I’m heading to Salt Springs. I’ll see if Ginger needs any help getting things ready for Olivia’s party. I gave Ginger Cash’s number. If she didn’t tell him to invite Nash or if Cash didn’t think to, it’s not my fault. He can just stay in Atlanta and wonder where everyone went.