The Wild Ones (The Wild Ones #1)(56)
Author: M. Leighton

Through tear-filled eyes, I watch the back of Trick’s head disappear into the crowd. Daddy leans his head down to speak into my ear. “Don’t forget you’re in the spotlight.”

Point taken.

I blink quickly to clear my blurry vision and I smile brightly for all those who are watching. I wait until all the camera bulbs have flashed and all the commotion has run its course and then I make my excuses. I push my way through the crush of bodies and make my way to Brent’s car as fast as I can. I have to get out of here. I don’t know how much longer I can contain the volcano of misery that’s churning just beneath the surface. It’s only a matter of time before I explode and then melt away.

Taking my phone out, I text my father to let him know I’ll be riding home with Brent. I know he’ll be very happy about that little tidbit and it irks me. Almost as an afterthought, I text Brent to let him know I’m waiting at the car.

Within a couple minutes, I see him heading toward me. He’s smiling. A smug smile. Probably a lot like the one Daddy’s wearing. I don’t have to see him to know it’s there. I know my father very well.

When Brent reaches me, he hits the button to unlock the doors and I climb inside. He turns to me to speak and I just hold up my hand. I don’t even look at him.

“I can’t do this right now. Just drive, Brent. Please.”

I close my eyes and lean my head back, hoping the gesture will speak volumes and put an end to further conversation. And it does. But I can still sense his displeasure. It just so happens that, at the moment, I don’t give a rat’s ass.

********

After having to chase Brent off when I get home, all I can think about is what was, what is and what will never be.

The selfish mistakes of my mother. The cold reaction of my father. The things they hid from me and how it ruined my life with Trick. The time I’ve wasted listening to the people I thought I could trust, people I didn’t really know at all. And, of course, the future I’ll never have with the man I love.

That eats at me more than anything—the loss of Trick. The rest I can forgive. Forget. Move on from. But not that. Not Trick. He’s my sticking point.

I roam aimlessly, restlessly through the house. Drogheda must be out and Mom is still at the club. Or somewhere. Maybe hitting up another hottie for some afternoon delight. Who knows? So it’s just me. And my thoughts. And all the things I can’t fix and can’t get rid of.

On my way out of my father’s office, I pass the small bar stuffed in the corner of the room. There is a half full bottle of Patron on the first lacquered shelf. Trick’s favorite.

I wonder if that would count as some of the hair of the dog that bit me?

Taking down the bottle and a lead crystal tumbler, I pour myself a drink. Just tequila. Nothing else. I take a sip. It burns all the way down. Just like I want it to. I hope it burns away thought and hope and pain and regret and…everything. And leaves nothing behind but impenetrable scars.

I finish the glass and have another. And another. Until my head is too fuzzy to think straight. But even still, it’s not too fuzzy to think of Trick.

I’m sitting in the chair behind his desk, on my fourth or possibly fifth glass of tequila, when my father walks in.

“There’s the ass**le who’s tried to control my entire life. And then ended up ruining it. Happy to see you, Daddy!”

He stops in the doorway and narrows his eyes on me. I struggle to my feet and sway so much I have to grab on to the edge of the desk to remain upright.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks.

“Having a drink. Because I can. And there’s nothing you can do about it. I’m old enough to make my own decisions. I don’t have to listen to the great Jack Hines anymore.”

Although he controls it perfectly, I see his temper flare. Only those who know him well would be able to tell he’s getting angry. “As long as you live under my roof, young lady—”

“Oh, stop! I don’t want to hear your threats. You’ve done enough damage already. You’re so cold and heartless, you ran your wife into another man’s arms. Isn’t that enough? Can’t you just leave me alone? Let me find happiness? Does everything have to be your way? Under your control? Live up to your specifications, your expectations? Because that will never happen, Daddy. No one in your life will ever be good enough. But that’s not true for the rest of us.”

“Cami, what are you talking about?”

It infuriates me that my eyes start to water. Tears are always just beneath the surface. At least they have been since Trick left. “Trick, Daddy. You are the one who ran him off. First because you were so hard on him and then because you kept something so important from me. I made the terrible mistake of defending you and Mom. I never thought in a million years something like that could be true and me not know about it. I blamed him, Daddy! I blamed him! I practically called him a liar! And now he’s gone and he’s never coming back.”

Saying the words out loud is like throwing gasoline on a match. Every delusion I’d had, every last bit of hope I’d harbored goes up in flames. And I’m on fire. My chest, my head, my soul—everything hurts from my skin in. I can’t stand to be inside my own head for one more second.

I run from the room, desperate to get away—from memories, from people, from the inevitable. I pull out my cell phone and dial Jenna’s number. She answers on the first ring. She’s laughing.

“Cami!” she says exuberantly.

“Come and get me.”

“What?”

“Come and get me.”

She giggles. “I can’t do that. Why don’t you come here?”

“I can’t drive, Jenna. Now come and get me.”

She sobers somewhat. At least her voice does. “Seriously, Cam, I can’t drive either. I’ve been drinking all day. Is something wrong?”

I start crying. I can’t help it. It’s like my last bastion of hope for sympathy and distraction just disappeared. “I…I…” I’m crying so hard now I can’t get the words out.

“Sit tight, Cami. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I don’t ask questions. I’m just relieved that she’s working out something. “Okay.”

She hangs up and I go out to sit by the pool and wait. I see Trick there, grinning at me as he takes off his clothes. So I get up and walk. Toward the stable. I tell myself on the way down there not to go, that it will only make things worse. But I’m a glutton for punishment, apparently. If I’m going to wallow in Trick, I might as well do it up right.