“Come on, Madeline,” he said, his voice growing more serious and carried a hard edge to it.
The giggling in the background stopped but was replaced by the sound of cars. He'd obviously left the club he was at, at least while he was on the phone with me. How considerate of him. “You know I like to have a good time, and I've been stuck here in Thailand for a month,” he whined. “I needed to blow off some steam. You know how it is.”
“And you don’t see how that’s a slap in the face given that you haven't been interested in blowing off that kind of steam with me in months?” I stammered.
It took me a while to realize the reason my fiancé wasn't interested in sleeping with me had little to do with how busy or tired he was, and more to do with his lack of interest in me. And goddammit, I deserved better than that. I was Madeline Byers, the daughter of Greg Byers – real estate developer extraordinaire. Having that name and being such a known commodity meant I had to maintain a certain image. After all, my father was a man who’d built up his empire and his name over the course of his lifetime. He was a man who had become beyond wealthy, well-loved at home, and an international celebrity all at the same time. And he’d done it with his own tow hands.
I'd grown up in the spotlight and was always painfully aware of how I looked. I knew that image was everything, and my image was one I worked hard to craft. I knew how to work the press, how to dress the part, how to convey to the anyone looking that I lived a life of ease and luxury. No one actually knew the real me.
Even back in college, my every move was scrutinized. People were always looking for a scandal or something to gossip about. That meant that I always had to be vigilant and on my best behavior. I needed to make sure I did nothing to tarnish my father's name or legacy – and of course, to follow in my father's footsteps. Staying with an unappreciative asshole who made me look and feel weak was no longer an option.
Suddenly, the penthouse felt stifling, and I needed to get out of there. But where would I go? There was no place I could go to be truly alone, even though I wanted nothing more than that. Everywhere in Manhattan, people recognized me on sight. It was hard going anywhere without someone knowing who I was.
While Derek was out of the country, sleeping with other women, I'd been stuck there, trying to be the picture of young love, domestic bliss, and the prototypical good wife. I was trying to live up to an image others expected of me, rather than being true to myself. It had been that way for as long as I could remember – or at least, as long as I'd know the importance of the Byers name.
I was done being ‘good’ though. I was tired of trying to live up to the expectations of others and having nothing left for myself. I wanted to have my fun too. I wanted to live my life. I hadn't really dated anyone besides Derek, and I wasn't sure we were really dating. It was more like an arrangement. We were a set up orchestrated by my father in order to give the illusion that we were the perfect couple and the perfect continuation of the Byers legacy – which meant giving him a son to take over his empire.
Because God forbid he'd let a woman run his company.
I realized Derek was still on the phone, babbling away. I'd been so caught up in my own head, I'd tuned him out completely. Having had enough of his crap excuses and justifications for being a cheating prick, I ended the call with just two words.
“I'm done,” I hissed and stabbed the button to disconnect the call.
I was free. I looked at the phone in my hand, a sense of amazement washing over me and turned it off. For that night – just one night at least – I wasn't going to be Madeline Byers. I was going to be somebody else and live a life not so constrained by my family name. For just one night, I was going to have some fun. On my own terms.
Determined though I was, I knew I would just have to be very, very careful about how I went about having a night out for myself, doing what I wanted. My name came with certain responsibilities, even if I wanted to blow them off for a night. I had to be careful and not get myself into trouble because I still had a dream of one day running my dad's company and building onto the Byers legacy on my own.
“Hey, girl,” my best friend Allison answered cheerfully when I called. “What's up?”
“I caught Derek cheating again,” I said.
My words came out clipped. Before I would have called Allison bawling like a weak fool, but I was done crying. I resolved to not give that lying, cheating asshat one more ounce of myself. If I were honest with myself, I’d never really loved him anyway. Letting him go should be easy.
“Oh Maddy, I'm so sorry,” Allison said.
I waved my hand absently in the air as I downed the rest of my glass of wine. It was my second glass that evening already, and I had my eye on the rest of the bottle – and maybe another. I was tired of being alone though. I was sick of being stuck in the penthouse that held so many memories for me. Memories with Derek. Memories I wanted to purge in a cleansing fire.
“I need to get out, Allison. Go to a club. Something,” I said. “I need to get out of this place for a while and let my hair down.”
Allison paused. “Have you been drinking, Maddy?”
“A little,” I admitted as I stared at the bottle of wine on my table. “But I don't want to drink alone, Alli. I want to go out. Somewhere. Anywhere. I want to go out like we used to – you know? Before all this bullshit.”
Allison chuckled. “I'm sorry, sweetie. I wish I could but I'm still in Sydney for another month, finishing up a project here remember?”
Dammit. That's right. In my tipsy, emotional state, I'd forgotten all about my best friend's latest project. She was a model, living an exciting life in Australia for a few months. After that, it would be off to some other exotic locale for another few months. It was a life I could have had for myself if I'd wanted. I'd wanted to follow in my daddy's footsteps though. I'd wanted to help sustain and build upon a vast empire.
I'd met Allison back when I was doing some modeling myself a couple of years ago. It had been fun for a little while, but I gave it all up. As much as I wanted to kick myself for it now, I knew we were different people in that regard. I wanted more out of life than to be just a face on the cover of a magazine. I loved fashion and makeup as much as the next woman, but it didn't define me like it did Allison. I needed more out of life. I wanted to be successful and known for more than just my good looks. Good looks were fleeting anyway weren’t they? Other than anomalies like Cindy Crawford and Christie Brinkley, you didn’t see too many models still working after the age of thirty-five.
Which was why I wanted to take over my dad's company. It was why I worked my ass off to prove myself and show him that he didn't need a son to continue his legacy. Not when he already had the perfect person to do it.
I sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I forgot for a minute,” I said. “I remember now though.”
“What if you join me here?” she said. “This weekend, there's a gala with all kinds of celebs, and I think you'd fit right in –”
Cringing, I muttered, “No thanks. The last thing I need is for the media to ask me all kinds of questions about the wedding. The wedding is cancelled, and I don't want to talk about it. I know it's going to get out eventually, but I just want a few days to enjoy some peace and time to myself.”