All of Me (All of Me #1)
Read All of Me (All of Me #1) Online
Authors: Tamsyn Bester,Bailey Townsley
ALL OF ME
(Part 1)
A Novella
By
T
AMSYN
B
ESTER
&
B
AILEY
T
OWNSLEY
ALL OF ME.
Tamsyn Bester. Bailey Townsley.
© 2013
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This eBook is licensed for your personal use only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Edited by Emma Mack,
Tink’s Typos
.
Cover Design by © Rebecca Berto,
Berto Designs
.
Photo Copyright © BigStock Images.
Formatting by Max Henry at
Max Effect
.
CONTENTS
Chapter 3
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The first people we would like to thank are our families, for supporting us and for putting up with us when we were always working.
This has been an amazing journey, and we’ve had the odds stacked against us from the moment we started this project – but we made it, we’re at the finish line, and we can’t wait to get this book out there.
To the readers who have shown their excitement for this book, THANK YOU – you were the fire that kept this project alive.
Lastly, to our fabulous editor, Emma Mack – YOU.ARE.AWESOME! Enough said - And to Nikki Hardie, Amanda Heath, and Michelle Davis Grad, who all Beta read this in the final stages, your feedback has been invaluable. WE LOVE YOU!
Lots of Love from South Africa,
Tamsyn & Bailey
CHAPTER 1
L
ACY
My new loft apartment is quiet when I walk in and I can vaguely make out the box shapes in the shadows. I flick the light on before discarding my purse on the kitchen counter and walk through the boxes I have yet to unpack. I’ve been back in Chicago for less than forty-eight hours and I already wished I were back on the white sand beaches of Cape Town. For the last two years, the small bustling metropolis situated in the Western Cape of South Africa has been my home, my safe place and my refuge. It is the place I ran to after my life turned to shit and now that I’m back I understand why running away was so appealing.
I chuck off my ballet flats, not caring where they land, and check my answering machine. Oddly enough, unlike all the other times I’ve checked, there’s a message waiting. My finger hesitates over the button and I wonder if listening to this message is really a smart decision.
Against my better judgment I press the button and my sister’s voice fills the room. “Lacy…mom said she saw you in the streets today…are you home? Why didn’t you let us know you were back? Call me when you get this, we need to talk. All of us.”
I delete it, hating that my mother had spotted me today.
There goes my stealthy return,
I think. Great. I should’ve been more careful. The last thing I need is the unwelcomed attention of my family, especially when they pretty much wrote me off before I left. I wanted nothing to do with them but now that they know I’m back, they’ll be sharks circling a whale carcass. I’m not going to subject myself to an audience with them willingly.
My phone chimes from the kitchen and I amble the short distance from my bedroom to answer it. It’s a text from my friend Cassandra.
S
KYPE?
I make my way over to my desk and power up my iMac before typing out a response.
L
ET’S DO IT.
A few minutes later, I open Skype and let Cassandra know that I’m online. Seconds later the dial tone comes through the speakers and when I answer, Cassandra’s beautiful sun kissed face fills my screen.
“Hey bitch,” she greets in her South African accent.
“Hey Cass! How’s it going?”
“Same old, same old. Except you’re not here, and I fucking miss you. Come back!”
I chuckle, smiling for the first time since my return. “I miss you too, Cass. How are things with Kyle?”
She sighs with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Fuck knows,” she replies, “he’s worse than a woman sometimes, I swear. He can’t decide if he wants us to be more than friends or not and I’m getting bored with him. I need some new eye candy.”
“You’re
always
on the lookout for new meat,” I tease playfully, even though it’s the truth.
“Well that’s only because I’m tired of playing with boys. I want me a man, a big strong sexy man who knows what he wants without me having to point it out. And preferably someone who doesn’t suffer from pencil dick syndrome.”
I know exactly the kind of man she’s looking for. I’ve had one before, only it didn’t end well. I think about Jason and then banish all thoughts of him just as fast. It only took me two years and running away to a different continent to get over him and the last thing I need is to think about the bastard
now.
“Anyway, how is it being back home? Have you spoken to your family yet?”
It’s my turn to sigh. Chicago hasn’t been my home for a while, but I couldn’t stay in Cape Town forever. I’ve managed to stay off the radar for this long but eventually I had to return to reality.
“They know I’m back,” I reply. I lift my feet onto my big office chair and rest my chin on my knees. “My mother saw me somewhere today and when I got back to my apartment I had a voice message from my sister.”
“What did the bitch have to say for herself? I hope they groveled like dogs.”
Cassandra does nothing to hide her disdain for my family. She knows everything about them and why I ran away. It’s odd really. We met at some rooftop party and hit it off. Three months later I was living with her at her Clifton beach house and had become fast friends with her ‘crowd’ of Cape Townians.
“She just said I should’ve told them I was back in town and that I should call her so we can all talk.”
Cassandra snorts and I realize that I miss her fiercely. She’s my only friend, really. All my so-called friends in Chicago ditched me as soon as the tabloids labeled me “Chicago’s Biggest Public Scandal To Date” and wouldn’t even return my calls, let alone be caught dead in public anywhere near me.
“I hope you told them to go jump off the Empire State building and into peak hour traffic.”
“I deleted the message. There’s no point in talking to them if they’re going to make me relive everything. I need to move on now.”
“I agree girly, make them fuckers suffer. On the flip side, I will be visiting in a few short months and you can show me all there is to see of Chicago. Until then, go out and have some fun, but not too much without me. You’ve come so far since I met you and I’d hate to see that all unravel because you have assholes for family members. You’re one tough bitch, Lace. Don’t you forget it.”
My eyes mist over because I really do miss my friend. She’s been all I’ve had when everything else fell apart.
“I miss you,” I say, grabbing a tissue on my desk.
“Ah girl, don’t you start crying, you know it will set me off too! It won’t be long and I’ll see you in person, but we’ll Skype often so you don’t forget what I look like okay?”
“Okay,” I laugh. “Tell everyone I say hi and go put Kyle out of his misery. Even I’m sexually frustrated on his behalf.”
Cassandra winks mischievously. “Oh I’m planning on teasing him later. We’re having a bonfire tonight.”
“Have fun. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Cassandra blows me an air kiss and waves before disconnecting our call. I feel better after talking to her and decide to follow her advice. I have to move on and live my life according my own rules. I have no one looking out for me, which is freeing in some ways.
I don’t have to worry about disappointing my family (done that) or being an embarrassment (done that too). Their unrealistic expectations no longer exist in my world and I’m determined to keep it that way, regardless of my last name.
I was fortunate enough to inherit a large trust fund from my late grandfather, which has supported my lifestyle after my family cut me off. I don’t live affluently but I’m more than comfortable, much to my parents’ displeasure.
Needless to say, I’m doing perfectly fine on my own.
CHAPTER 2
L
ACY
I throw my sheets off, unable to sleep. The sound of the cars below echo loudly in the streets and do little to soothe my busy mind.
The clock reads 4am and I’ve slept two hours at most. I slide out of my bed and saunter lazily into my office/dining room/living room. I turn my iMac on and open the files I’ve been working on.
When I was in Cape Town, Cassandra suggested I write a book about what she referred to as ‘my journey’. After the first two hundred pages flew out of me, I realized that getting it all out on paper helped and soon I was unable to stop. The first draft was finished before I came home, but now I’m contemplating whether or not I should publish it.
I read through the first ten chapters and before I know it time slips away from me. My phone chimes as my ‘6am’ alarm rings through my apartment and I stretch the tiredness from my limbs before heading into the kitchen to make a fresh cup of coffee.
Now that I have returned, I’d need some kind of routine, something to keep myself busy with. I decide that it would start with two hours of gym, and fortunately the building I live in now has one of those downstairs.
I change into a pair of black yoga pants and a purple sports bra that exposes my waist, and grab my matching black jacket. I finish my coffee, savoring the deliciousness, and devour a quick but satisfying breakfast before traveling down the twelve floors to the fully equipped gym.
I like my new home, and the privacy it provides from the world outside. I walk in and find what I assume to be the usual morning crowd milling about on various pieces of equipment. I find an unoccupied treadmill and slip out of my jacket.
After strapping my iPhone to my arm, I click on Miley Cyrus’s ‘Wrecking Ball’ and started warming up. I focus on nothing but the rhythm of the song and the burn of my muscles for a solid thirty minutes before I see him. His midnight black hair hangs a little longer than I remembered, his shoulders broader and his back far more defined.
My feet falter and I hit the emergency button to stop myself from falling face first onto the machine.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. He doesn’t even live in this building. Seeing him again wasn’t part of my plan. My heart races and it has nothing to do with the thirty-minute run I’ve just subjected myself to.
I move toward the exit with slow steps, watching him carefully, watching the way the females flock in his direction. I understand the pull to him. I struggle not walking to him myself.
