Forever Distraction Page 2

  Smith didn’t budge from his unwavering spot in front of me. Instead, he crossed arms over his chest and broadened his stance. I took a large step back and my eyes drifted up slowly to his. He looked furious, lips in a straight line, and I pictured his beady eyes behind his dark glasses. I am pretty sure he was scolding me silently, so I lifted my chin and attempted to scrutinize him, repeating my judgy sweep from his shiny black shoes to the top of his perfectly styled hair, but he just lurked over me. He was a tall, muscular man, and he always wore the same thing, a black suit, thin black tie, with a gold tie clip. Smith sported dark sunglasses and had an earpiece that disappeared under his stark white dress shirt. His brown hair with a tint of red and starting to recede was neatly combed, parted on the side. He was my grandfather’s main bodyguard, but was in charge of me as well. Smith was one of the only bodyguards I couldn’t sneak away from. At a young age, I called him Smith, not because that’s what his name was, but because he reminded me of a villain in a movie, one that couldn’t be killed, one that kept returning. I think he was flattered; he started dressing the part, making all of his protégés dress it as well. Sometimes, like now when he was really infuriated, he made a face that was dead-on Agent Smith in the movie. He always caught me until recently, and that’s why he was pissed at me, if I was guessing. Gracey approached me from behind, signaling me to follow her into the white-carpeted seating room. She was a nice lady in her late thirties with brown, short, straight-styled hair. She was my height, and today, she wore a gray skirt and a black, silk dress shirt. Gracey was handpicked by my grandfather a year ago to be my personal assistant, and if she were good enough to impress him, I would keep her for life.

  She turned as we entered the large room, and I glanced at the small computer in her hand. “Good morning, Katarina, I am happy to see you.” Her bright smile warmed me instantly, and it soothed my tattered nerves. I reached in my purse and pulled out a piece of paper that had names on it.

  “Good morning, Gracey,” I pivoted toward the bodyguard, “Smith.” His arms fell from his chest to his sides, but no emotion was given. I heard a loud sigh indicating his annoyance and irritation. I focused back on Gracey. “Before we get started, Gracey, I want to pay off these accounts.” I handed her the paper and she scanned it over. It had Jason’s name at the top, followed by his dad’s, Jessica’s, and his oldest sister, Janie’s. I put Shannon’s name in there as well; I worked with her at the dental office. She was having a baby, and I knew what a difference having all her bills paid off would mean to her. “I wrote the addresses and phone numbers next to the names, but some addresses I didn’t know. I want everything they owe paid off right away. This will be my going away present to them. Label it for my accountant as a donation.” I went back and forth about paying off Jason’s debts, but mostly, it just felt right. It was my final ‘thank you’ to a man I would never see again. We lived in two worlds; even if I misunderstood what William said, we could never be together. She took the paper and stepped aside to make a phone call. I walked over to a table near the entrance to set my purse down, when Gracey came back in the room and began talking.

  “There are some things we should go over. Are you hungry? Should I order some food from the kitchen?” she asked, but I shook my head. My stomach actually hurt, it felt like it was filled with acid, and the feeling as if I was about to puke kept surfacing. “I would like to schedule some appointments for you today and tomorrow. I need to know if there’s anything you want me to work on, anything important you came back for.”

  Again, I shook my head no. I snuck a peek at Smith and continued over to the plain white couch he stood next to. He wasn’t a big talker, not like Gracey, so I wasn’t surprised by his silence. I sat down, still looking at him, and asked, “How’s Sara?” Sara was his oldest daughter. The way his jaw twitched made me flinch.

  “She’s fine. She has been enjoying her new iPod. She gave me the envelope, if that’s what you’re asking.” His voice was professional…too professional. He was really mad at me, his hands shifting to clasp behind his back. I gave Sara my iPod thinking Smith tagged it with a GPS. I also gave her a letter and an envelope full of money to give to her father after I was gone, because I knew he would be furious, and I learned, with most people money made everything better, putting a Band-Aid on the fury. That was my reasoning, but looking at Smith’s flared nostrils, I doubted my vacation money did anything but piss him off more. What was it with alpha males, and giving them money that always fed their rage?

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stay,” I explained quietly.

  He faced away from me toward the fire blazing in the fireplace. He was done with the conversation, so I turned my attention back to Gracey. She went on about times and places, but I wasn’t even listening and fell asleep in my head with my eyes still open. When I came to again, it was quiet; she was making notes in her computer.

  Smith approached me. “These are your things.”

  I held out my hands and he placed my cell phone, a Rolex, and a necklace into my palms. I took them with a begrudging, “Thank you.” Smith was a smart guy. I already knew this was his way of tracking me; he hid GPSs in all my stuff. When I ran away, I left everything behind so he couldn’t trace me. My Mercedes was serviced the day I left, and the tracking devices had been severed.

  My father walked into the living room, his presence taking the wind out of me. I stood up to walk over to him, close enough to touch him. “Breakfast is ready; there is a place set for you.” He looked cold and detached, and my shaky legs halted directly in front of him. I expected something, but I am not sure what.

  I glanced down and forced my words out. “Bruce, of course, I will be right there.” My voice was small, my body signals already submitting to his control. I was weak, that seven-year-old, head down, no eye contact girl with no backbone taking over wherever my father was concerned. He turned from me, and his Italian loafers vanished from my vision as he exited without another word.

  I rolled my shoulders and took a deep breath. I focused my attention back on Gracey and Smith, trying to snap back into the role of the perfect daughter. My back straightened in sync with my lifted chin. I stood tall, my hands clutched in front of my body. “I guess it would be a good time for you both to eat too. I will meet you in the entry in 30 minutes.” My eyes found Gracey’s. “I will be staying at the beach house. Will you take care of that?”

  She replied affirmatively and was again busy on her computer. I didn’t look at Smith before leaving; I knew he was upset with me still, and I needed all the strength I could get in order to face the people I stayed away from for so many years. I crossed the room to the entry and put my belongings inside my purse. My hands were shaking uncontrollably as I attempted to put my watch on. My nerves battled with fear, fear of what my father had planned for me. I felt Smith studying me and pulled from his strength. He was the most powerful man I knew, and just having him on my side made me invincible. He might be mad at me, but Smith was the most loyal kind of Rottweiler. A smile crossed my face at the thought that Smith was my Bo.

  I inhaled some calming breaths and made my way to the dining room. Everyone was sitting at a large, rectangular table that I didn’t remember, but they had their same spots. Mirrors hung on the walls, and a large chandelier hung in the center of the table. I focused on that. I glided in just like I had done for many years before, shoulders back, chin up, small steps, and hands still clutched in front of my body. Nobody got up as I walked in; although, I was hyperaware that everyone’s eyes remained on me as I took my seat.

  What, no ‘I missed you’ greeting? I’m sure it was an order from my father to make me feel even more like the black sheep, isolating me from the herd so he could pounce on me without interference. He sat at the head of the table wearing a dark suit with a blue tie that matched his eyes; his brown and gray hair was longer than I remembered, reaching the bottom of his dress shirt’s collar. My mother sat beside him, staring at me. Her hair was black, long, and wavy, an
d she had it meticulously done. Her controlled bangs were pulled into a barrette. She wore a dark blue blouse, which made her eyes look an even darker blue. She wore a half-smile, half-grimace. I watched wrinkles around her face take form around her lips. Is it weird I know how many stairs there are and the exact number of physical steps it takes me to get from my bedroom door to the outside, but I could barely remember what these people looked like?

  My oldest brother, Luke, sat at her side and smiled at me, a smile that never reached his eyes, but fell when I didn’t smile back. He looked more like my father, with his square jaw and a cleft in his chin.

  My other brother, Brian, sat between father and me. He was a couple years older, but we looked the same age and were always mistaken for twins; there was no mistaking he was my sibling. He grabbed my hand when I sat down, and I yanked it away without a glance in his direction. I grabbed my cloth napkin and placed it over my lap. I smoothed it, creating a perfect, non-wrinkled appearance during the silence. There was never any talking while the servants came in; it was a rule. They moved around us carrying our breakfast and skillfully set one in front of each of us, never making sound.

  “Thank you,” I said as mine was placed before me, but the sight of the decorated food had my stomach turning, and I felt bile in my throat. Why do people decorate food? It doesn’t need to be pretty; you’re just going to eat it anyway. My mother must have noticed the look on my face.

  “They’re lox and bagels, and a rolled omelet with spinach.” Her voice was snooty. I smiled my ‘years of practicing in front of mirror’ smile. “No, thanks, Adeline, I am not hungry.” I had taken to calling my parents by their first names when I was about nine. They wanted me to act like an adult, so after a bout of punishment, I told myself two things: I needed to always be prepared to run and hide, and to pretend to be an adult. I mirrored their actions, the proper ones. I scanned around the table at my family, all of them enjoying their food, and it was just one more reason I didn’t fit in.

  My mother took over the conversation, and I am sure that’s why everyone was here, to support her. Her mouth was tight and she wasn’t looking at me, her attention focusing on my father. I knew what she was doing; she did it my whole life, she got him all riled up, and I would end up in the hot seat. It was a hobby for her, a game; she loved it when he was mad at the world. I hated it, because it was my ass that was beaten the shit out of, or thrown in a closet for hours, or both, but she ran the show. I settled back in my chair and planned my escape. I knew my only safe exit was to walk past him; if I went through the kitchen, it would only slow me down. I was fast, and my size made me slippery. Past him to the front door was my plan. It did dawn on me to text Smith and have him escort me out, but my phone was in my purse by the front door.

  I shook my head slightly, still looking down at my white cloth napkin, and tried to focus on her words. “So, Mark said you had Gracey call him to pay off some debts.” I raised my eyes to peer at her, going over her words in my head. Mark Richardson was the family accountant. When we graduated from high school, my grandmother left each grandchild a large sum of money to do with whatever we wanted. I hadn’t used any of that money yet. I didn’t need to. Mark was placed in charge of my finances when I was a minor, because my parents used him. She continued to talk, her voice reminding me of the sound a fork makes on a ceramic plate, causing me to clench my teeth. “Is that what you’ve been up to? Were you gone for four months playing house with an animal doctor?”

  I was in shock. She had pieced together who I was with by the names I gave Gracey, figuring out who I was with so quickly. My back straightened as I returned her glare, anger beginning to fuel me until it was the only thing inside me. I was furious over the lack of privacy, the strong hold she had on everyone who worked for her. Mark had snitched me out. I would have to fix that. I saw my father’s hand tighten around his fork; it was probably the mention of the animal doctor. I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders, remembering my role as a perfect daughter even as anger crawled up my spine. I forced myself to remain stoic, showing no reaction to the news spilling from my mother’s lips. I rubbed my hands, which were now completely sweaty, and began pulling at my cloth napkin, fighting the urge to defend myself, to throw this radish resembling a flower at her, or this sliver of an orange against one of her sterilized white walls.

  “You know, Katarina, I think it is time for you to settle down, so I told Gracey to block off some nights. Thomas has been asking about you, and I called him this morning to tell him you were ready to be pursued. After dating the animal guy, you understand pedigree now I’m sure. You need to be with someone of your same…breed.” She talked slowly, like I was stupid. Thomas was one of my responsibilities as a Covington, one I could never forget about. Since I was young, I was told he was my future. When I was old enough to understand what that meant, I rebelled against it, which only caused my father to force the issue more. Thomas Holtin’s family was very wealthy, not just rich, not just a millionaire, wealthy. They clarified it many times for me; apparently, there is a huge difference.

  They were close to my family. Dr. Holtin owned many hospitals, including the private hospital my parents worked in, as well as others. I didn’t care to know how many. Thomas and I were equally screw-ups in our parents’ eyes, defiant and unruly. So, naturally, our parents pushed us toward each other, and we hated each other as a consequence. Thomas wasn’t a bad guy; he just viewed me like I viewed him, another version of a prison. Thomas was there the night Jared attacked me. He was studying with me. Well, I was studying, and he was talking about early graduation. I hadn’t seen or talked to him since that day. He tried to reach out to me, but I denied every effort. I knew he was just checking on what he assumed was his asset, his future, but I didn’t want to think about what our parents set in motion until I absolutely had to.

  I took a drink of the orange juice in the champagne glass and almost choked; it had alcohol in it. Adeline smirked at me and I wanted to smack it off her face, but instead, I smirked back. She continued to talk. “I also scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you today to make sure you didn’t come home with anything contagious.” I felt my mouth fall open and glanced around the table at everyone engrossed in their breakfasts. I knew everyone at that table had livelier sex habits and a lot more chances of carrying something ‘contagious’ than I did, so I was livid. I let my eyes shift toward the door; I could leave, and I am sure no one would miss me.

  “One more thing before you take off.” She waved a slow hand elegantly toward the door, letting me know subtly that she saw my eyes flicker there. “I called the family, and everyone will be at Grandfather’s office. The lawyer will be there today at two for the reading of your grandfather’s will. They need everyone present, Katarina, and you made a lot of people upset and angry when you disappeared last time.”

  I hated that my mother was more worried about everyone else. My mouth opened again, and even as I tried to make it close, the words dripped from my lips. “I bet there were a lot of disappointed people extremely distraught they couldn’t get their hands on grandfather’s money…oh, and that I wasn’t there for the reading of the will. God forbid someone be upset about Grandfather’s death.” She made a sour face. The sounds of clanking silverware filled the air as everyone stopped their eating. “I will be there today, Adeline, and at the doctor’s. I will marry Thomas too, if that’s what you want. I don’t care about anything anymore. Grandfather was the only one who understood me, the only one who loved me. He’s gone now. I will do whatever the fuck you want.” My voice grew loud. I knew my running days were over, and I had resigned myself to do what was expected, what had always been expected. I was a Covington; I needed to act like one. I needed to get out of there before she succeeded in sucking every ounce of life out of me.

  “Good, I am glad we are understood. You know, Katarina, I had hoped your grandfather would fix you. What that Jared boy did to you was awful.” My eyes snapped open and my face twisted toward B
rian. My world was blurry from the water simmering in my eyes. I was confused and sad, but more important, I felt betrayed.

  “Brian, you told her?” I put my hand over my mouth and he moved closer to me.

  “He didn’t have to tell me. You came downstairs with blood all over your sundress; you were a mess. Brian’s hands were all bloody, and Jared was in your bedroom. Jeez, Katarina, I am not as stupid as you think.” My eyes drifted over to her, and then to my father. I eased out of my chair, backing up slowly, changing my evacuation plan. I would run through the kitchen, making my way toward Smith and out the side door. Everything was dizzy, and I was disoriented trying to process. I started talking before I made my exit.

  “You knew and you didn’t do anything? What kind of parents are you?” I felt a tear fall down my face, and I quickly moved my hand to wipe it away. “I hate you!” That was all I said before I slipped inside the kitchen, out of the sight of my family’s prying eyes. My legs froze while I attempted to gather my thoughts and my breath. I heard a creak behind me, and then I felt my father’s firm hand on my throat as he shoved me into the pantry, knocking open the door and closing it behind him. I glanced around as panic set it. The food lined the shelves all around us. He shoved my back into the canned food. The clanking sounded off as the cans descended to the tile flooring. He began to lift my body, slamming me harder this time against the shelf. I heard more rattling and clanking, and I concentrated on picturing the canned food scattering and rolling around us, avoiding the way his cold hand felt and the lack of oxygen. He squeezed my neck tightly, asserting his dominance, and I knew it was to intimidate me, and it was working. I felt lightheaded.