Page 8

8

PENNY

Throwing my phone onto the sofa I groan loudly. Fucking Jameson. I’m not actually pissed with him, I’m pissed with myself more. I should have known I couldn’t keep a secret from him. He’s been like a bloodhound since we were kids, always sniffing out gossip before anyone else.

And because of that I’ve never been able to hide anything. Not even when I first started my period at thirteen. Even though I hadn’t told a soul because I was too embarrassed, he knew. I hid in my house. Pretended to be sick. And then he turned up at my door with a bar of chocolate, a box of pads, and a hug. What other thirteen year old boy would do that? He’s been my best friend for so long now, I sometimes forget about his ability to know everything .

He has a right to be worried about me. I’m worried too. But I also know if I told him the full story, he and his idiot brothers and Angie, would do something I don’t want.

It’s bad enough someone I’ve known my entire life propositioned me after I was already mauled by another man because they think I’m a whore like my mom. It’s embarrassing. Even if Director Allen wasn’t a total slimeball, he still would’ve asked me to leave. Once word got out one parent had pulled their donations, more would follow. A domino effect with rich bitch patrons. He wouldn’t risk the school shutting down due to insufficient funds. Not for me, anyway.

I’m so fucking angry, though. All those years I spent working there, helping to create programmes for future generations, putting my all into teaching those beautiful little babies, to not even be able to say goodbye.

I won’t get to see how they use the ten thousand dollars I donated. But in the grand scheme of things, a one-off payment is a drop in the ocean of contributions that Mr. and Mrs. Brooks and their cliqué gives, even if that one-off payment was a significant amount.

But what bothers me more than anything is the comparison to my mom. After all these years, she’s still coming back to haunt me. No matter how much I distance myself from her and her ways, she still manages to drag me back to her level.

I don’t drink, I’ve never been promiscuous, I got good grades and work hard to contribute toward the town, and yet it all boils down to being the daughter of the town drunk who cheated on my dad with anyone who’d have her.

My poor dad. He doesn’t deserve this. He never did. He wasn’t a bad husband, just too forgiving. And now, instead of making him proud, I feel like I’m disappointing him.

Maybe I should consider leaving Syracuse. Venture into the big wide world. Maybe Jaxson could help me find work in England. I could tutor or work in one of their primary schools Angie has told me about.

Who am I kidding? I couldn’t leave this place.

It’s my home.

I love it here.

Scoffing at myself, I snatch the remote off the small coffee table and turn the TV on. A bit of daytime entertainment shows can help take away my blues. I flick through the stations and stop when an all-too-familiar handsome face appears on screen. Ugh, an ad for the Syracuse Spartans. And as much as I hate him, I can’t draw my eyes away.

Chiselled cheekbones and a strong jawline covered in stubble make me squirm. As he turns his gaze toward the camera, his dark eyes burn into me, turning from amber pools into molten lava. A smug smirk lands on his lips, as if he can see the reactions I’m having to him.

I hit pause quickly, cursing silently as the familiar throb between my legs makes an appearance. Fucking Ben Elias. The man drives me absolutely crazy. Part of me wants to strangle him and the other part wants to take him to bed and let him ravage me.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been ravished. About three hundred and sixty billion years to be exact. Well, it feels that long. I take a second to just stare at the screen. His smirk, his eyes, his lips, the stubble… Individually it’s all nice to look at, but when you put it together, it’s like lighting an inferno inside my soul.

And then he opens his mouth and it’s all pompous platitudes and arrogance that sets my teeth on edge.

I’m horny, angry, and confused. Lovely. Just another stark reminder that my life is an absolute shitshow right now.

I expected so much more. Almost thirty and all I have to show for it is an empty house and a pending trip to the unemployment office.

I always thought I’d be married by now. Way before Jenson, never before Jameson, but for sure before Jaxson. Yet here I am with the Brady brothers either married, engaged, or welcoming kids into their families. And I’m stuck desperately searching for a job so I don’t have to work for my enemy. And did I mention alone? Gah, the pity party for one has well and truly landed. It feels pretty fucking pathetic, if I do say so myself.

I grab the phone again, anything to distract myself from wallowing, and roll my eyes when I see notifications from Jenson and my dad. I quickly open Jenson’s and suppress a groan as my eyes take in his words.

Jenson

I’ve spoken to Angie and Hank, we all agree working for the Spartans would be good for you. Don’t be afraid of reaching out to us. We love you and we’re always here for you. If you need money, I got you, but I know you won’t take it. Don’t be stubborn, just go for the interview. Your dad’s already set it up. What’s the worst that could happen? We’re all on your side. Remember that, Buttercup. Love ya always.

This isn’t fair. I prefer immature Jenson, the one who jokes about gossiping over lunches and calls me Buttercup. Not this emotionally grown up version of him who makes sense when I don’t want him to. This is Angie’s fault. And I bring up my texts to tell her so.

Me

Your fiancé emotionally blackmailed me. Tell me I’m not making a huge mistake here.

Angie

My fiancé’s getting the best head of his life tonight. You’re perfect for the role. It pays well and I promise I’ll have lunch with you every day.

Me

You’re disgusting. I hate you all.

Angie

Love you too.

I quickly open my Dad’s text before I change my mind and gulp when I see the few words written.

Dad

8:30. Tomorrow morning. Dress nicely and behave. We’ll talk after. Dad

Shit!