* * *
I realize how out of my element I am, standing in this restaurant among the pompous, grandiose jerks from “high society,” as they call themselves. I hate it here, and Justin’s parents are the worst of them all. Not only are they stuck-up and boring, but they act as if I’m beneath them because my mother works instead of going to the spa all day. I love that my father supports my mother taking the lead now. Her catering business means the world to her, and I’m happy for her. She’s a shining example of finding your second stride after the kids have grown and moved out.
I’m dressed in a black outfit I designed myself, and I hate how his mother keeps giving me a critical eye. Her with her Botoxed eyebrows that barely move from the pinched expression as she looks me up and down. It’s a wide-leg pantsuit with a corset top and red jacket. I’m proud of it. It’s sexy, chic, and tailored. Plus, the corset cinches my waist. They didn’t say this was a formal or black-tie event, so I thought this would be the perfect outfit.
Paris struts around in a red off-the-shoulder bandage dress with a shawl collar. If she bent over, her boobs would fall out of it. My boobs may be on display with the corset, but the jacket over it keeps it classy, leaving more to the imagination instead of broadcasting my assets. Although in Paris’ case, her boobs are bought and paid for, while mine are au naturel.
My parents weren’t invited to the event, and I feel even more out of place, so I fidget, playing with my fingers. Justin keeps taking my hands and squeezing them to stop me from moving so much. He also won’t let me eat either. Every time a server walks by with a platter, he pulls me away. He’s even smacked my hand. To others, it might seem playful with his “You’re dieting for the wedding” comments, but I’m getting pissed.
Hangry to be more specific.
Justin keeps me close to his side as he talks to people, mingling throughout the restaurant, which was closed to the public but remains open for a celebration of Justin’s new business launch. Not only does he make sure I don’t walk off and grab some food, but he watches over me as if I’m going to run. I’ve honestly thought about it. I’m not a mingling-and-socializing kind of girl. I like a simple, quiet homebody atmosphere.
Tonight is about Justin’s expansion of the investment company he began into a chemical company he purchased and will run, based in Providence. It specializes in medical facility products. His contract is nationwide already. I’ve never heard of it, but he’s super stoked about it.
People continue to congratulate him, but it’s not something I knew about until I was invited here. Justin doesn’t talk to me about his work, so I’m confused about how he expects us to get married. We don’t ever discuss our daily lives. He hates that I like to watch rugby and dislikes that I leave fabric lying around my apartment. I don’t care for his name-dropping and need to be the center of attention.
At one point, a gentleman I’ve never met before approaches us, talks a bit about the investment company, and puts me on the spot. “Has your father invested yet?” he asks. He must know who my father is to pose the question. This disconcerts me, and I don’t know what to say.
“Oh, Evelise doesn’t deal with the money part of her family’s businesses. She’s not very business-minded.” His statement is insulting. “Her father and I are currently in negotiations.”
“Last I knew, my father wasn’t investing at this time,” I quickly interject, and Justin tightens his hand around my waist, his fingers dig in, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making a face. I know it’s true.
“As I said, Evie doesn’t understand business things. But yes, we are in talks.” Justin covers up my truth with a lie.
I distinctly remember my father telling Justin he would not invest in his company. Later, he told me it was because it was still too new, and my father felt that Justin was cutting too many corners. I know business because I’m minoring in it. My major may be fashion design, but I’ll need to run my own shop at some point.
Just another thing to hate about this evening.
I need to get away from Justin before saying something regretful or just storming out of here and ruining everything I’ve put up with these past months now protecting my family. When the bright idea to use the restroom comes to me, I jump on it, taking off as fast as my feet will carry me. Not only to get a breather from Justin, but also to collect myself for the dining part of the evening, which hasn’t even been announced yet. Justin has been harping on my weight so much that I’m freaked out about eating.
When I step out of the stall to wash my hands, and there stands Paris, I realize my night is about to take a turn for the worse. I physically pull my shoulders back and hold my head high. Paris has been relentless the last couple of months. The worst was just a week ago, after the match we lost, which kept us out of the finals. She pushed me to the ground and kicked me in the ribs with her pointy-toe heels.
“You know he’s still fucking me. He isn’t going to marry you,” she about spits at me. I step back and apply my lipstick, ignoring her. “Did you hear me, Ms. Piggy? He’s still making love to me.” She smacks my arm, and the lipstick tube goes flying across the bathroom floor.
I’m done. The bitch in me snaps, and I turn to face her. Standing inches over her, I cock my head to the side and brush my hair over my shoulder just like she does.
“Yes, I heard you. You said he’s still fucking you, not making love to you. If he loved you, he wouldn’t be telling everyone he’s marrying me, now would he?” I smirk, and she lunges.
Holding a hand up to stop her, she plows into my arm, falling back on her butt. She screams, and I look over as Justin steps into the bathroom. It’s as if it were planned, and for a moment, I doubt it, but there can’t be any other reason he’d be waiting outside the women’s restroom.
“She just fell on purpose,” I try to defend myself, but I should realize that he’ll have Paris’ side, not mine.
Justin just holds a finger up to me, stopping me from speaking.
Oh no, he didn’t, the bitch inside me says.
“Paris, go out and have a drink to calm down. I’ll take care of Evelise.”
I hate it when he says my full name; it’s as if he’s talking down to me like I’m a child or something.
“No, I’ll go out so you can fuck her like she was just telling me.”
I move to step around them, but Justin’s arm flashes out, backhanding me across the face. My head whips to the side, and I bobble on my heels for a moment as tears flash in my eyes. When I look over at them, Justin stands stiffly; he’s angry, and Paris smiles smugly.
“Look what you made me do,” Justin barks loudly, then instantly softens his voice. “Paris, please go tell my mother that Evelise is heading home. She’s not feeling well.”
Paris spins on her heels and walks out, her head held high. But I’m done with this farce. I’ve done whatever I’ve had to in order to save my family, but they wouldn’t want me to put up with this, would they?
