3
Haven
With classical musicswirling around us and the lights dimmed in the crystal chandelier, I rest my elbow down on the white linen tablecloth while staring at the grandfather clock behind Mom’s head. She has been chewing my ear off about socializing with other “like-minded” people for the past thirty minutes, but my mind is lost in a cloud of thoughts revolving around Raine and his parting comments last night. He’s the equivalent of a book I can’t put down...I need more.
"You know, the Sullivan twins are having a small party tonight, maybe you should join them," Mom suggests as she pokes at her thin slice of roasted turkey.
"I don't care for them," I tell her. "I'm not like them." Five years ago, when Mom and Dad were struggling to pay bills, we had canned food for dinner more often than not, and our house was the size of this dining room that the three of us are drowning in. Dad was fighting his way through his failing family law practice a few towns over from here, never making much income, while Mom supported us with her teacher's salary. After his firm "hit gold," plenty of money came in. Rather than walk away with it, though, Dad wanted more, so he started making decent sized donations to this small town while also befriending all the locals, until he had almost everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. In less than a year, he became a local hero, and it was all part of his “big plan.” Once he was adored here in Cascade, a town full of people who didn't know a thing about him, he ran for mayor. Ten months later, we were moving out of our poverty-ridden house and into this lifestyle of shittin’ in high cotton. It's taken me years to figure out how this all came to be, but the void has been filled as answers trickled in...answers I wish I didn't have to know.
Mom drops her fork, and it clatters against the fine china plate. She huffs with evident haste and clasps her hands together, bringing them to her forehead. "Lord, Haven, you need to try a little harder to like these girls in the neighborhood. They have made several attempts to get to know you, and you keep turning your back on them." She pulls in a long inhale through her nose and presses her closed fists against the tabletop as if she were experiencing a sudden pain. "Do you want to be miserable forever? Because it seems that way."
"Pamela, please calm down," Dad tells her. I think he's aware of the disruption his career choices have brought to my life, but I don’t believe he cares much. From the moment he became mayor, I was primed to become a model teenager with class. I let it all happen for as long as I could stand it, but these last couple of years, I've come to realize I can't be who I want—not that I know who that is yet, but this isn't it.
"Maybe we shouldn't go tonight," Mom tells Dad.Guilt. There's always that factor. We all know who each of us are deep down, and we're playing a role we were never designed to fill. Every passing day we live with this wealthy lifestyle we didn’t earn, the place and life we came from becomes a little blurrier in the rearview mirror.
"You don't need to do that. I don't need a babysitter," I tell them.
"I feel like we leave you alone too often." Mom huffs as she takes the napkin from her lap and blots her lips. That's because you do, but don't worry, the damage has already been done.
"I can go alone," Dad says. "It's just drinks with a couple of local politicians." They're serious. If they stay home, they'll ruin my plans, and my entire night for that matter.
Thinking on my toes, I tell them, "Maybe I will invite Maryanne over tonight. We can play cards and sip lemonade or something," I mock Mom without trying to be too subtle. “I’m sure she’d rather come here than go to the Sullivans’ house.”
"That sounds nice," she says. "I think that's a fine idea. I've always liked that girl."Well,that makes one of us. Maryanne belongs in this neighborhood. I don't.
"Yeah, she's kind of grown on me I guess." I've learned that the best trick is to act as if I have no desire to leave the house, and if they don't want me alone, I fix that problem too. If I show no real hints of acting like a typical teenager who wants to get into a little trouble and have some fun, they'll never be any wiser on the subject.
The white lies are my only way to avoid suspicion, and I'm good at them. What Mom doesn't realize is that Maryanne and all the other girls in this neighborhood pull the same crap on their parents. We may not like each other very much, but there's an unsaid camaraderie involved in our small union of privileged teenage girls.
"Well, that's lovely. I suppose I'll be joining you after all, Frederick," Mom says with a tight-lipped smile; one that says she's not as excited about going as she's pretending to be. Every now and then, I see a glimpse of despair in Mom's eyes, like maybe she misses our old life too. Either that or the guilt is starting to eat her alive. Dad's a different breed, though. This was his life's ambition, and he wakes up with a proud smile every day, knowing what he's accomplished.
I plant myself on one of the couches in the sitting room, acting casual in my sweats as if I were truly preparing for Maryanne to come over. Mom walks in while piercing her obnoxious and oversized diamond earring through her earlobe. "Well, we most likely won't be home until well after midnight. You know how these dog and pony shows go. The old men enjoy their gin and gossip."
"I'm sure I'll be in bed by then. Maryanne isn't much of a night owl."
Mom studies me for a moment. "Won't you be putting something else on? You're in a sweatshirt, and those pants look filthy," she points out with a cringing look.
"Nope, Maryanne accepts me for who I am—a slob who doesn't like to dress in designer clothes." I force a taunting smile, knowing how angry I make her.
Mom rolls her eyes and takes her evening purse from the side table. "I hope you have a good time. Call if you need anything."
Dad walks in to find Mom and leans down to give me a kiss on the head. "Behave yourself tonight, sweetie."
I offer him awhat the hellkind of look because how could I get into trouble while sitting here with Maryanne of all people? She puts on a better act than I do, and it can't be easy.
"I promise not to let our card game get out of control tonight," I reply with an uneasy laugh.
He raises a brow as if he's calling my bluff. "Mmhm. Goodnight, Haven."
The second the door closes and the headlights disappear from the front window, I spring off the couch and run to my bedroom. Sliding the hangers apart, flinching from the squealing noise they make, I reach into the back of my closet and pull out one of my favorite shirts, a pair of torn skinny jeans, and my knee-high boots. I have four hours to have myself a good time tonight, and as wrong as I know it is, I have the worst best idea on how to succeed.
I walk a little over a mile down the street and cross into Sutter, stopping in front of a metal door with the word "Crow" spray painted on it. Reaching into my back pocket, I retrieve my tube of scarlet-red gloss and brush it across my lips. I couldn't help but notice Raine's fascination with it last night.
I step inside the bar I found Raine in last night during a stupid dare one of the twins made—a bunch of upscale girls in slutty clothes walk into a biker bar. The joke should have been on us, and I was dumb enough to go along with it, but that's just where I am in my life right now. Trouble is more exciting than the alternative. Even with that thought in mind, I'm still a bit uneasy walking into this particular bar. I'm underage, asking for dirty looks, and in a position to get caught by someone who knows Dad, even though I'm sure no one in this bar would know Dad personally. They’re not good enough with their leather, tattoos, and piercings.
The moment I break through the wall of smoke, my gaze falls upon Raine. I wasn't sure he'd be here, but he did say something about there not being much else to do around here. Considering how lame these two twin towns are, he couldn't be more right.
Raine didn’t see me walk in, but I'm in clear view of him, as well as his hand resting on a woman's knee. It looks like he's blowing air into this sleazy brunette's ear, and I’m now starting to take note of histype. I should have considered the possibility of him having a girlfriend, but I'm pretty sure he was with a blonde woman last night. For a split second I consider leaving, but as I lift my foot to turn around, Raine spots me. His hand lifts from the woman's knee, and he stands from his stool, making it clear he’s in no rush as he kicks the thing under the bar with the heel of his black boot.
