Guarded Hearts (19 page)

“I thought that the reason you didn’t want to go is because you had nothing to wear. I solved the problem, baby. I really want you to be there for me. Yeah, and maybe those people might be fake, but I need them to further my education and possibly my career. You know how important it is for me to intern in the right place. And, really, Nix, battle of the beats, which is just your job, your hobby, not your career,” I whine.

“My job is not only my hobby, Olivia. I told you music is my life, and tonight is important to me. As my girlfriend you should understand that,” he says angrily. I can see that he is losing control.

“Whatever, please come to the party with me,” I whine again as I start walking towards him. As I reach him I can feel the heat of his anger. I nuzzle his neck and whisper, “Besides, I’m not wearing any underwear.” I lean further into him, aligning my body to touch every part of his. His hands reach up to grab mine, and he pulls them apart and sets me away from him. I’m stunned and unsure what to do next.

“Olivia, I said no. Just drop it and go to the party. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’m tired. I want to take a shower and get ready for tonight. Have fun,” he says with no warmth. This is the Nix from the coffee shop. The one that was defensive and hard to like. I still don’t understand his reasons about not going to the party. They seem petty, and everyone is fake at some point in life. I don’t want their friendship; I just need their connections.

“Come on, Nix, do this for me, please? I need you there. You know how unsure I am sometimes. I need you there as my boyfriend to give me strength,” I continue my whiny rant. “I don’t want to be the loser without a date, going there all alone when I have the most gorgeous guy on campus as my boyfriend. Please?” I beg. I know I sound childlike and pathetic, but I need him there.

“So what, now I’m your arm candy, aside from being the dick that fucks you?” he yells as he stalks towards the bathroom. Okay, where is this coming from? He was distant when we met, but we were not in a relationship before.

“Nix, stop being an asshole,” I say calmly, his attitude bringing up all my walls again. I sit on his bed. I can hear him going through his closet. He comes back out with a pair of jeans in his hands.

“News flash, Olivia, I have always been an asshole. Why do you think I have no friends?” he yells at me, coming closer. “Do you think those snobs care about knowing you? That they will help you in any way without anything in return, without any benefit to them? This is the real world, Olivia. All those people care about is who has more money and how they can help fuckers spend it with parties, drugs, alcohol, and vacations. These people don’t care about an upstart, a girl looking for an internship. And if they do give it to you it is probably an old pervert looking to do to you what your father did to your mom,” Nix continues to rant. He is probably right, but I have to try this because this is my only chance to meet people in my field.

“All I can do is try, Nix. Why can’t you be helpful and go with me? Or at least be supportive? Where is all this hostility coming from?” I walk towards him and hug him. I beg one more time, “Please?”

“O, just go. I need to finish some mash ups for tonight and Taylor should be here any moment to help,” he tells me.

“Taylor is coming here?” I ask, not liking the sound of that.

“Yes, she is the one competing tonight. I had promised her my help and support,” Nix says with a tone that states clearly he had mentioned it before.

“So is this what this is all about? You helping her, but you can’t help me, your girlfriend? Does she mean more to you than a simple co-worker since you have repeatedly mentioned that you have no friends?” Now I’m the one barely containing my anger.

“I made a promise to a person that thinks my
hobby
,” he emphasizes, using his fingers as quotation marks, “is something great.” I’m hurt; I can’t believe he is choosing her over me.

“Look, I came to ask you to do this for me, but obviously someone else is more important than me. Which I shouldn’t be surprised. I should be use to coming in second. My own mother did it, why shouldn’t you? Stay, Nix, and go to your stupid battle and help your
co-worker
, because your ex-girlfriend can always handle her own shit. Stupid me to think that there might be a chance that someone could relieve some of the burden I carry. Goodnight, Nix,” I say as I make my way to the front of the apartment. I can feel my throat tighten and my eyes glaze over with tears. I should have known that I can only count on myself. I continue to walk towards the door, picking up my coat.

“O, what do you mean ex-girlfriend? You are fucking breaking up with me over this stupid fucking benefit?”

“No, Nix. I’m breaking up with you because I need someone that will support me and be there for me, to put me first for once,” I retaliate.

“Olivia, you can’t be serious. It’s just a fucking party. You don’t know what you are asking of me.” He moves in front of me. “Baby, please don’t do this. Livi, not today, especially not today. I can’t go to that party, Olivia, I just can’t go. Trust me,” he pleads.

“Well, when you decide to unravel what the hell is going on, call me, and maybe I will be your friend again.” As I finish that my phone chirps, alerting me that my car is here. “Goodnight, Nix,” I whisper as I move around him to the door.

“Olivia, please don’t do this,” he whispers. I can hear the sorrow in his voice as I stop by the door.

“Good luck tonight,” I say as I open the door to leave.

“Olivia, if you leave I won’t fucking beg you to come back. It will be over,” he threatens. I close the door and walk out on the best thing in my life. It just hurts to be someone’s second. I grew up with that, and I made a vow when I got here last year that I would not let anyone make me feel unworthy again. I might have been a bit dramatic back there, but I needed him to understand that I needed him there. I know there must be more to this story. His anger towards this party and his reluctance to go almost made me pause, but if he is not going to open up I can’t help him.

The whole drive over to the gala I try to keep my tears at bay. I look at my compact one last time, making sure my mascara didn’t run. My eyes look glassy with unshed tears, but I can’t keep them down. I hate being dramatic, especially knowing that I was lashing out while hurt, something I never did with my mother. I guess after a while I stopped caring.

Finally we arrived at the destination at Myrtle Beach Country Club. The driver opens the door of the car for me, and I can smell the ocean from here. Taking a deep breath, I make my way towards the entrance. I can see the wealth everywhere I look. Who would have thought that the daughter of an illegal immigrant whore was about to rub elbows with some of the most influential people this close to Washington, DC? I knew from Professor Forrest that many of the attendees were politicians and judges, since one of the founders was running for Supreme Court judge. I walk in and am ushered through the silent auction area to look around before dinner is served. They have waiters walking around, offering hors d ‘oeuvres and wine to the guests as they mingle and walk around looking at the packages that are going to be auctioned off as part of the benefit to raise funds. I look around the room as I look at the brochure that was at the front entrance. I see the woman that would’ve been my first choice to intern for, if she had not retired to help her husband with his campaign. The brochure has a list of her accomplishments that she had done before and after the foundation was built to help the children in the community.

“Hello, Mrs. Jackson, my name is Olivia Rey, and can I say that you are one of the women I most admire,” I say, blushing.

“Well, thank you, child. And can I say you are a beauty, Ms. Rey. I am glad you were able to join us tonight. Did you go around the tables to see what we are auctioning off?” she says, just like how a true host would.

“Yes, thank you. I would have loved to contribute, but I’m still a student at South Carolina State, so my funds are limited. I came to make the rounds and to see if there would be a moment to pick your brain. Well, if I can,” I say.

“You go to South Carolina? My-” She gets cut off as the announcer mentions it is time for dinner. I wonder what she was going to say.

“Well, dear, I think it’s time for you to find your table. Come look for me at the end of dinner and we might find some time to chat,” she says as she walks away. She has done so much for abused children, trying to pass laws to protect them even from themselves. She has even helped children that are in this country illegally, but have been neglected or abused by the same people that brought them here. Even though she has retired, she still is an advocate for children’s rights. That’s my goal, to help even just one child to have a brighter future.

I find my seat as they are passing out the salad at our table. There is a middle aged man on my right and an empty chair on my left where Nix was supposed to be. I can’t start thinking about him right know, because I’ll get upset again. The man to my right starts talking about his last hunting trip in Africa and how the animals were too wild.
Hello, it’s Africa
, I want to shout.

I tune him out as I look around the room. Nix was right; they are a bunch of self-centered pricks if my table was the spokesperson for them. The club has been turned into an indoor winter wonderland. There is a huge display of the foundations logo made of ice on the right side of the stage. The center pieces are all made out of crystal, pretending to be icicles surrounded by a lot of bling. There are about one hundred tables with about ten chairs per table. I know the invitations are about five grand per person, and the whole tables are close to fifty grand or more, depending on how close to the stage you want to be, because the front of the stage is the VIP section. This is where the politicians, local celebrities and the foundations founders are seated.

Dinner is a three course meal, but thankfully it goes by pretty quickly. Thank God, because all the people at my table are major snobs. At some point in my life I wanted to be just like them. Not worrying where my next meal will come from or if my jeans are too small. I wanted to have all the money in the world to be happy. But as I got older, I knew that money didn’t buy happiness, even if it kept you clothed and fed. My father is testament to that. He has money, but he is miserable in the life my grandfather chose for him. All I care about is making a difference, and yes, to have a steady income to keep me fed, clothed, and a warm bed to sleep in.

The founders take the stage to welcome and thank all the attendees. They mention the rules for the auction and a brief background of how the foundation helps those adolescents that are caught at a crossroads in their young lives, battling an addiction.

Mrs. Jackson takes the stage to request a moment of silence for Kevin S. Addams, the person behind this endeavor. The life of a youth that had a promising future that was cut short due to drugs and alcohol, and what the repercussions of that night had on both families as they try to piece together their lives after the tragedy. The two families joined forces to create this foundation to help the youth with addiction, and the families and friends for them to understand the long road ahead.

As Mrs. Jackson stops talking, to the left of the stage there’s a huge screen playing a memoriam of all the young people that have lost their lives in the past year even after entering one of the programs the foundation offers. I gasp, not knowing how I stayed in my chair as I take in the last picture they show. There on the screen is a picture of Kevin Skylar Addams hugging a young and laughing Nix in what I assume was his birthday celebration.
Nix, oh baby
, I mouth silently as I cover my heart with my hand as it breaks for my guy. Why didn’t he tell me that today was the anniversary of Sky’s death? No wonder he looked sad and so forlorn. I wish he had confided in me why he didn’t want to come. I discreetly get up from my chair and make my way towards the restroom to call Nix. I was such a bitch to him today, even though I felt there was more going on with him. But I was too wrapped up in my shit that I didn’t dig any deeper.

I call his phone a couple times with no luck. He is probably still mad at me or at the Battle of the DJ’s already. I call Mandy, but no luck there either. I send him a quick text letting him know that I need to talk to him. I call my driver to come and pick me up, and I forget all about meeting anyone tonight. He needed me and I walked away.

“Nix
, amor
, pick up. I need to talk to you. Why didn’t you tell me about the foundation, about what today really represents? Please pick up, I’m on my way home. I have been calling Mandy so I can meet you at the club, because I forgot the name of the club.”