For Love or Money (6 page)

We
leave the dining room and enter into the back lobby of the hotel. I almost fall
when I see her, the one wife I have liked so far—Rachel—or as Geoff
calls her, number five.

She
comes running, and I can tell immediately she knows what’s going on. She shakes
her bottle-blonde head and sobs. “I told him it’s too much. It’s too mean. He
gave you no warning.” She pulls back, revealing actual tears dripping down her
perfectly blushed cheeks. She’s five years older than me and has been his wife
for three. But regardless of that, I actually like her. I think of her as more
of a friend and a confidant. She’s the first one to accept the relationship, or
lack there of, that I offered her. She has never tried to be my parent.

I
look down, shaking my head. “It’s fine. I don’t even care. I have an invite for
the summer on a yacht to meet rich men and secure my future that way.”

Her
eyes well. “Everyone knows what you’ve been at, Lana. You have to be more
discreet. The papers are filled with you right now, and that party and the cops
getting called for your violent sex.”

I
shrug past the sting of that last comment. I hate that that’s what the world
thinks happened. I hate that I was violated and no one, not even me, believes I
didn't deserve it. “Maybe I’ll stumble upon the next big thing and win the
competition.”

She
starts to sob, obviously filled with the same amount of confidence in my
capabilities as I am. I can’t take another second of joking and shrugging
things off. I have to be alone. I kiss her cheek. “Try to convince him to give
me a second chance.”

She
nods, wiping her nose and tears. “I will but you know how much he listens. He’s
so stubborn.”

I
can’t be surrounded by people anymore. I push away from her, letting Geoff lead
me out the back door of the restaurant. I didn’t even notice we were going
through back doors both ways.

“Is
the press out front?”

He
glances at me and nods once.

“Wow.
So this whole scandal has become mine?”

Geoff
walks to the car and gets in when Henry gets the door. He’s riding with me? I
am in shit.

Geoff
clasps his hands together and rests them, staring at them. “You brought the
drugs, you supplied the liquor, you own the fake company that bought the
apartments, and the boy in the coma has angry parents. They were going to sue,
but your father is actually an old friend of the family of the other boy. They
convinced the Weavers to agree not to sue so long as you are punished
accordingly.” He shakes his head. “Lana, what were you thinking? The kid is a
minor.”

I
am stunned. Stunned silent and stunned by the knives in my back. I lick my lips
and contemplate it all. “Nance has told everyone it was me?”

He
nods.

“And
even if it wasn’t and I had nothing to do with it, including the young man, my
record is bad enough that no one will believe that?”

He
nods again, biting his lip.

“Then
I guess I’m as guilty as they say I am.”

Fuck!

He
winces. “You didn’t have anything to do with it?”

“I
mixed some shots before the guys got there. I never gave one to a single minor,
I never gave drugs, and I never even knew they were minors. I didn’t know them.
I didn’t stay at the party. I left around nine and have a perfect alibi.”

He
reaches into his pocket. “This isn’t the card you invited them with?”

My
stomach burns.

“Did
you or did you not buy the apartments?”

I
shake my head. “The card is mine, I invited them, but I never gave them
anything, and the apartments below are mine. The one with the party was in the
penthouse. Mr. Hensley owns that one.”

He
chuckles bitterly. “Then they moved the kid to the apartments below for when
the ambulance and police came.”

“Smart.”

His
eyes are wild but he is still calm, staying that way for me. I know he can
sense the breaking point inside of me is being reached. Truth be told, I am far
passed it but my sleeping pills are lingering a little too hard.

He
looks exhausted when he says, “Your dad has his back against the wall. Your
actions are making scandal after scandal. Harvard just wants you gone. They’ll
give you any grade you want just to end this.” Tears leak from my eyes but I
don’t say anything. He sighs. “You think you’re the victim, don’t you? You
think this is all someone else’s fault? You really don’t see the actions were
all yours. You aren’t a kid anymore. Inviting a minor to a party and getting
him so high he almost dies is a crime.”

I
can’t see what he’s saying. I can’t hear it. “I am the victim, Geoff. I am the
one who is taking all the blame, when the party wasn’t my idea, wasn’t my plan,
wasn’t in my house. Yes, I wanted to party and I invited the kid but I didn’t
do it all alone either. Nance and Leo were there, both. They went and found
people, probably minors, to bring to the party too.”

“YOU
INVITED THE BOY IN THE COMA, LANA! HE’S THE ONLY ONE PEOPLE CARE ABOUT!”

I
flinch.

He
groans and covers his face. “Win this fucking contest. Show the world you are
not the screwed-up little crackhead they all think you are. Win and make a
comeback before you end up selling your little black book about your sexual
conquests for money to get high.” He grabs my face and kisses me hard. “I love
you, Lana. All the way to the moon and back.” He climbs from the car, leaving
me crying and shaking.

That
was from a book he read me when I was a kid.

Henry
drives the moment the car door closes. He parks somewhere I don’t recognize and
comes to the back. He doesn’t open the door for me but instead climbs in. It’s
weird.

He
looks stressed. “I never told anyone anything. I’ve kept your secrets for you
but Nance and Leo have betrayed you. They have done it to the press, your
father, and your friends back home. This is about to blow up, and I don’t want
you hurting yourself. The others don’t know you as well as I do.” He lifts his
face, and for the first time I see tears in his dark eyes. “I have always
thought of you as a family member. I always will. When you win this contest I
will be waiting to come back and work for you, and one day when you have kids I
will resist the urge to tell them just how naughty you were.”

My
eyes flood with more tears than I knew I had. “What? What does that mean?” I
know what it means and my heart is breaking, actually breaking. Everyone is
shitting on me and abandoning me. Did they conspire to do this all at once? Am
I being punked or is this one of those mean intervention shows?

Jesus!

He
shakes his head slightly. “Your father is bringing me home tonight. He wants
you to do this all on your own. He doesn’t want you to have any help. He wants
the world to see that you did it on your own, one hundred percent.”

I
swallow hard. “You too?”

Henry
nods. “I am sorry, sweet girl. I have to leave you here alone to be a normal
college student.”

“But
I’m not normal. The media wants to destroy me, Nance, and Leo—you can’t
leave.”

“I
don’t have a choice. It has been made perfectly clear that my employment is
only guaranteed if I obey.”

“HE
CAN’T HAVE YOU TOO! HE HAS GEOFF AND THE WHOLE WORLD, YOU ARE MINE!”

He
grips my hands in his. Both of us are shaking. “I am so sorry. I will be
waiting for you in LA. I will watch from the sidelines as you win this thing
and show everyone what you are made of.” He leans forward, hugging me awkwardly
and then climbs back out. He drives to the school, opens my door, and hands me
a Visa. “This is all that he is going to give you for the next five months.
Once the show is finished, it will be cut off.”

To
a normal girl this would be the greatest gift ever, a Visa for five months of spending.
To me this is the worst feeling in the world. It’s my last Visa.

Henry
hugs me and nods. “Go and get some real-life perspective and win the show. I’ve
asked around and apparently the bars in Boston are loaded with talent. Thin Ice
was found here in a bar. Lochlan Barlow, the lead singer, was on a reality show
like The Next Mogul and he signed a music deal here in Boston. You can do
this.”

I
shake my head, realizing for the first time I cannot do it. “I have no one.”

He
lifts my chin. “I’ve been with you since you were one year old. In my
twenty-one years I have not seen you with a single person I would say is a
worthwhile friend. Trust me, you are better off.” He winks. “Apart from that
young man who fled the scene with you—James something or other. Nice boy.
You should see if he can help.” He places a baseball cap on my head before he
turns, leaving me there and walks to the driver door. He gets in and leaves me
standing in the parking lot completely lost and confused.

I
feel like the world has crashed down upon me. I don't think anyone has ever had
a week this epically bad—ever. If I was just a little more unstable I
might laugh, but I have a clear sense of exactly what has happened and how. I
just don't see the why. Why would Nance and Leo screw me over so badly? Because
I fled?

I
can’t believe the three men in my life—the only three people I count on,
would abandon me the same day. I look up at the sky and wonder if my mom is
watching. If she is ashamed, as ashamed as my dad is? It hurts more to imagine
that because from there she can see it all. She knows every secret, not just
the ones I’ve been caught for.

I
ponder it and walk away from the path to my dorm in Hurlbut. It has the worst
name but it had the best potential for a renovation. Most of the dorms are
livable for regular students, but mine was renovated for me specifically after
my dad donated a huge amount of money toward improvements in all the dorms.

A
knotty lump sits in my throat as each of the wonderful things my father has
done for me slip past in a movie montage-styled flashback. It dawns on me I
have never even thanked him once. It always seemed like the thing he was
supposed to do, because he was my dad. I don’t know how I feel now but
ungrateful is one of the words I am blocking my brain from mentioning.

I
don't want to be the bad guy in the story. I don't even see how it’s possible,
but I have a horrible feeling I am. I have always been a let down, even as a
little kid.

My
dad was so angry. I have never seen him that way, not even in Germany.

A
girl gives me a narrow gaze, as she passes me. One of the annoying law
students, no doubt. They’re all pompous pains in the ass. Most of them are more
conceited than the real celebrities I have spent my childhood with. They make
most A-listers look humble like Mother Theresa. A smug thought about how many
of them will not have real jobs at the end of their education tries to drift
through my head, but I then recall my own situation and try not to be haughty
too. I have no reason to be self-assured like I did an hour ago, and seeing
them makes me realize how conceit doesn’t match poverty stricken.

Shit.

I
need to fix this whether I’m the bad guy or not.

I
pull my ball cap down and hurry along the road to the park I know. It’s the
only one I’ve actually gone to—ever. It’s pretty, for a park. I never
have understood the need to stand in nature, but knowing there are probably a
hundred reporters stalking the grounds looking for me, it seems like a good
idea.

Fast
runs and hot moms

James

The
coach gives me a look like he doesn't get it. “So you left the party, left two
minors at a party, they ended up getting drunk and high, and now Weaver is in
the hospital? This seemed like a good plan?”

I
drum my fingers nervously. “I’m not their babysitter. I told them I was
leaving. There was a pile of fucking coke the size of Scarface’s and booze
everywhere. I didn't want to get kicked off the team, or worse.”

“You
asked them to leave with you?”

I
contemplate lying for a second. “Not exactly. But I made it clear I was
uncomfortable being there with that level of drugs and whatever else.”

He
sighs. “I feel like you dropped the ball when it came to protecting the young
members of the team.”

I
nod. “Yes sir.”

This
is fucking bullshit.

He
continues, “I feel like maybe this could be some retaliation on your part for
the loss of the incentive program we had been paying your way with?” He sits
back, rubbing his hands on his chubby belly. “Now son, we told you when we gave
it to you that if anyone ever found out about the incentive program we have
here, we would have to end it.”

I
swallow my seething rage and smile. I feel like I borrowed the pathetic grin
off one of my silver-spoon teammates. Everything they do is fake. “No sir. I
would never. I am grateful I got my first two years paid for with the
incentives. It's more than I could ever hope for. I have my third and fourth
year taken care of.” I want to punch him in his fat face but that would get me
kicked out of school.

He
nods. “Okay then. Get out and let’s not have this happen again.”

As
I leave I’m vibrating, to the point of raging on the next thing I see, so I
don't go back to my dorm or to the field. I go for the only thing that's going
to take this away—a run. Eight miles, to be exact.

I’m
three miles in when I see it, or her rather. She’s sitting at a picnic bench on
a field in a park like she’s a regular girl. But I know she isn’t. I know she’s
Satan’s mistress. I run past her, wanting to scream at her or even chuck her in
the river, but I see something I don't expect. Her hand lifts to her face.
Jumping Jesus. The ice queen is crying again.

My
insides burn and beg for me to keep going, but my legs take me across the grass
to her and I can’t help but think this might be the right moment.

She
turns, scared at first but then maybe relieved—which is an odd reaction.
She sighs and gives me a strained smile. “Hey.”

I
sit next to her on the bench, trying to stretch my calves a bit. I can feel the
rage and anger being sucked out of me by the calm park and the crying diva.
“What’s wrong?”

She
shakes her head. “I don't think I even know where to start.”

“Limo
broke down and all you had to eat were the suckers you were saving for the rave
next week?” I smile but she looks at the grass. I have a horrid feeling I’m not
actually cut out for the type of details I’m about to get, but she doesn't say
a single thing. We sit in silence, her being the most surprising girl I think I
have ever met. I have watched her for three years, seeing one side of her rule
her completely, but knowing there is another side. In the last week of being
near her, I can’t say that the one side has won the battle. She might be
redeemable. I’ve seen her be the biggest bitch I know but I’ve also seen her
scared and alone. That's about the only time rich kids are ever real about
anything. They get vulnerable and drop the act.

Finally,
I can’t take another second of it so I tell her my problem. One of us has to
talk. “My coach gave me shit for the morons at the party who got themselves in
over their heads.”

She
turns, looking like something out of a paranormal movie and growls. “I didn't
know they would do that! I wouldn't have invited them had I known! Jesus! I’m
sorry, okay? What do you people want—blood?”

I
lean back slowly, hands up and eyes on hers. “Lana, calm down. I was just
sharing my sad fact hoping you would share whatever is picking at your ass.
You‘re crying in a park alone. I assumed you needed a friend.”

Jesus,
tell me I didn’t just call myself her friend?

She
slumps and the demons are gone again. Why am I always drawn to the crazy
chicks? She shakes her head. “I just can’t take one more bad thing and I have a
feeling the week’s just starting out.”

“I
think you’ll feel better if you tell me what’s going. I’ll feel better.” She
has me worried. She seriously looks like she might hurt herself.

Finally
she just says it. “I took all the blame for that party. The drugs, the booze,
the minors—everything. They dragged that kid’s unconscious body to the
apartments below and left him there for the ambulance attendants.”

It’s
much worse than I thought it would be. “You weren’t even at the party for one
thing—and for two—wouldn't leaving him in the apartments below
clear you of any blame?”

She
shakes her head, laughing like a mad woman. “No. That's the best part. I bought
the apartments below Nance’s as an investment with a dummy company I built. It
was so that we could party and not worry about the people below. They dragged
him into my place, essentially, and left all the blame with me.”

I
am stunned. “Your friends would do that to you?”

She
lifts her face. “I’m not sure I have any friends, James. Now if you don't mind,
I just want to sit here and pout about how my daddy is cutting me off and my life
is in the shitter as you colloquial types like to say.”

It
makes me laugh bitterly, mostly for her. “Wow, you do know bigger words than
Gucci. Congrats for that.” I get up and lift my ear buds up, pausing and
looking back at her. “Your dad cut you off?” She looks just depressed enough to
tell me what she means.

She
glares but her mouth opens. “He’s hosting an intern competition for my spot at
the company, and if I don't win it, I get cut off for life.”

“He’s
giving you a chance to win. That’s the part you gotta focus on. It doesn't
matter what it is, Lana, you go balls to the wall and you win it. Whatever it
takes. And personally, I would get some badass revenge on your piss-poor
excuses for friends.” I wink. “Whatever the bill is for this little session,
I’ll send it to your dad before he cuts you off.” I put my buds in and start to
run again, almost feeling sorry for her, but I can’t. Girls like her need a
dose of reality. Her dad is a brilliant businessman with a natural talent at
making stars. She needs some tough love, and it makes me respect him even more
for doing it. I can’t help but wish Weaver and Nick’s dads gave them the same
‘step up and take-responsibility’ chat she clearly got. Now I know I have my
chance. I just have to figure out a way to talk to her.

My
phone vibrates with a message from Dana for seven tonight. I run harder so I
can squeeze in an arm workout beforehand. She always pays for everything but
expects very little. She’s my friend Duncan’s mom, but she’s divorced, fit, and
lonely as hell. Big Duncan took off with a Victoria’s Secret model two years
ago and Dana just likes to go dancing. I take her to a different class twice a
month, and then once a month we go to a club and try out our new skills. She
doesn't want anything from me, just to not be so lonely. I actually like her,
not like Marlene, who loves the fact I’m twenty-one. It’s creepy but at least
she’s hot, crazy hot. And crazy good at the things I like. She could suck start
a Buick.