She may have not used the word purposely, but I certainly took it that way. I sat up, lighting another blunt, calming my nerves, and now dulling the senses from Addi’s meltdown.
“Calm down. No one is taking your anger from you, so stop acting like a bitch.”
“Don’t ever call a female a bitch, unless it’s badass bitch.”
I tried not to let the smirk grow into a smile when she put me in my place—something only she could do. No one had the talent, except maybe the staff of the juvie I frequented.
“Okay, badass bitch, what’s the family drama?”
She slumped down on the end of the bed and held out her hand for the thick blunt. “Mandatory family dinners every Friday now, all because the golden child had a daughter.”
I pulled her whole body into my lap and leaned back the same way I was before. “Why don’t you stop fighting them and just go?”
She nuzzled into my chest, trying to make herself small enough for a pocket when I watched her gray eyes become hazy and unclear with tears building up. They didn’t even understand how she felt, let alone that they needed to fix it.
My preoccupied fingers held the joint to my lips again, trying to dull the new feeling taking control of me: resentment.
I resented her family for making her feel unloved and unwanted enough to cry in my lap. I knew exactly how she felt, but I could handle it. I replaced my fucked up family with dangerous friends, enemies, and even a string of unimportant women to distract me from not having a more permanent one. Addi needed someone, anyone, to accept her how her family didn't.
“You don't understand.”
My eyelashes fluttered in disbelief, but I couldn't hold it against her. She knew nothing about me, other than the basics and the obvious.
I felt her singular tears dampen my chest, and I resented her family even more. I don't know what pushed me to tell her about my past. Maybe it was knowing she wanted more from me or seeing her this unwanted. Whatever it was had its grip around my throat and wasn't letting go, until I gasped for the truth—the damn truth. I could never outrun her.
“My mom didn't want to deal with me anymore, so I went to live with my dad and his wife. She's three years older than me. No one wanted me but the correctional system.”
I watched her eyes glaze over so much I could barely make out the gray anymore. “That was supposed to make you feel better.”
Her hand landed softly on my chest, strategically over my heart, while the silence expanded between us. It was swallowing me whole, and it hit me the same way her feelings did. Those tears were for me.
Addi
The giant SUV with the darkest tints and biggest rims pulled to the side of the curb of the hotel at the exact time the door flew open. Eager much? I pushed Addileigh down, while I let my instant creation bubble to the surface: Brittany.
I wasn't psycho like that; I was an actress, flexing my pretend muscles by being the type of girl I imagined would be on his arm in this situation. I gave Hunter no warning when I whispered, “Call me Brittany,” before I slid against the leather all clumsy.
I was quick on my feet, thanks to acting classes and summer programs I had to beg my parents to send me to. They only ever wanted me to follow Liz’s precise footsteps, not making any indentions outside her perfect size 7.5 feet.
Clumsy was really going to mean Brittany started drinking a little early. It was the perfect cover in making myself the opposite of a liability. I was the girl no one would care about if I seemed drunk and unintelligent.
Hunter was staring at me with such a storm brewing in his eyes that my giggling faded quickly. He mouthed the words “what the fuck” in my direction, with his eyebrows furrowed.
I let my hand land on his inner thigh, and I giggled a very prominent “daddy,” as I leaned into his space. I could feel his body tense, but the two men in the front were laughing and speaking Spanish, which didn't help me understand much anyways, even if I was myself. All I had was a fourth grade level of Spanish down, not understanding what truly happened to grades 5 - 12.
The two men in the front had black sleek suits on and tattoos poking out of the collars and crawling up their necks. Gold rings sat heavily on their fingers, and one even was drinking Starbucks. Drug lords and minions were people too. Nothing about this drive was like the movies, but I was committed to being Brittany now.
Hunter kept his glaring on a high, making sure I knew he was telling me not to do something stupid—- no matter what part I was playing.
The car came to a stop after a half hour of silence—not one word exchanged between the four of us. It was torturous to not just start asking the shady men about their love life or who designed their suits. I wasn't even sure if they were fluent in English or just chose Spanish, thinking we wouldn't understand.
I shifted towards Hunter, who whisked his palms on the seat, trying to wipe away the nervousness I was praying he’d cover up before he stepped out of the car.
A huge modern house sat nestled in the Hollywood Hills that screamed, “I can gloat because my house is made of windows and literally stole the perfect view.” I tried not to let my jaw drop too much, while I settled into Brittany still.
Bored and unimpressed made my features its new home, while I slid out from the SUV in my dress meant for something a lot less serious than this. I mean it was sequined, and the sun was just setting now. Only a few hours ago, I was curled up into Hunter, crying over problems I buried under self-tanner.
Now it was my turn to be strong for him.
The guy who was driving pushed Hunter forward, trying to establish dominance in this scenario.
Ass.
I wanted to act out, get reckless, and earn the reputation of being unloved, but Brittany wasn't the type. I looked at Hunter, waiting for him to react, but he only let his fists curl up tighter.
Hunter was good under pressure and annoyingly calm, as chaos erupted around him. You could punch him in the face and he'd laugh an evil kind of laugh that only made you want to hit him more. He liked the pressure, the stress, the chaos… not the buildup.
Inside, a man was waiting right inside the door, the only part not glass, with open arms, smiling. I wanted to recoil. Nothing was ever this simple.
The man was in a crisp, white button up, gaudy gold jewelry, and dress pants with the unmistakable LV symbolized as the buckle—impeccable style for someone who seemed middle age but didn't look a day over 40.
“Hunter, I'm so sorry it’s taken so long to meet you.” His voice was the perfect blend of English and Spanish spliced together, giving himself an air of mystery. He pulled Hunter's stiff body into his with so much force I felt the vibration in my own chest. “They treat you okay? Let's get a drink.”
I followed behind, carefully taking it all in, even the women in similar dresses, who scattered in the next room with a full bar decorating the corner. I was hoping I went unnoticed, but his eyes bore into me, while his words were meant for Hunter. “This yours, or did you bring me a gift?”
I made sure to shift my weight to one side and smile, like I was Miss-fucking-America, waiting for be crowned. Stepping forward, I made sure my eyes locked on his, shoving my hand forward clumsily, “Brittany. Your house is… just wow.” I really sold it with my wide eyes and dropped jaw.