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He’s been traveling a lot lately; I think it has to do with his wife and his daughter Connie. Whatever, it’s been nice. Just me, my wine, and my vibrator.
“I want you to raise your glasses to my dove, my Ava. She is my light, she keeps me on my toes. To you, my beauty.”
Everyone bursts into “Happy Birthday,” but I merely take a deep drink of the champagne, letting it numb my head. My mom’s face appears again, but I blink her away. It’s all her fault that I’m in this mess anyway. Had she not died, had she not needed the pills, had she not left me when I needed her most…
Phillip asked me to be his mistress, and at seventeen, I finally said yes. He has had all my firsts and in return, I’ve become this.
A twenty-seven-year-old woman asking a waiter for a job.
Fucking Ashlee. Now that I have no coke left to make Phillip’s old dick not work, I hope he bought the period story. After all, it’s my birthday, and the thought of his soft hands and saggy balls… I can’t.
The room explodes, making me come back to the now. I blow out the candle, not bothering with a wish.
“Here’s to another ten years.” I almost choke. Instead, I sit up straight as I take the black shiny box. God, did he get me a massage day again? Hopefully it’s a week at a spa. Maybe he asked Ashlee to go with me, and that’s why she’s here.
I do need to get my hair dyed since Phillip likes me platinum blond. I get it done every two to three weeks. Otherwise, my dark roots start to show.
“Thank you.” I set it aside.
“Open it, my love.” His voice makes me grit my teeth.
“’Kay.” I pull open the black ribbon and stare at the gift certificate. I blink at it, forcing my eyes to focus. That can’t say plastic surgery, can it?
“Well?” Ashlee’s voice makes me look at her, then up at him. He’s laughing with his old, fat friends. I suppose they already knew.
“Did you get Dr. Huston?” Donald’s eyes keep dipping to my breasts.
“What is it?” Ashlee laughs along with everyone at the table as I stand.
“He got me a gift certificate for twenty-thousand dollars to get fake boobs.” My voice sounds high and unnaturally calm.
Fake breasts.
That’s what the disgusting old man who took my virginity like a sweating pig has done. And because I was desperate and alone, I put up with this crap for ten years…
Done.
I might be snapping, but I don’t think so. I’m done. Like done, done. I reach for my black Hermès bag.
“Fuck this. I don’t need this shit anymore.” I look around the table and can honestly say, I hope I never see any of them again.
“Ava, stop this,” Phillip snaps as I reach for my three-quarter-length coat.
“Fuck off, Phillip.”
“Oh my God,” Ashlee exclaims, her voice vibrating through my head as I put one foot in front of the other. I don’t care that they call for me, or that all eyes seem to watch me make my way to the exit.
“Thank you,” I murmur as the host opens the door and I step out into the cold and glance around for a cab.
“Ava? What the fuck are you doing?” Ashlee rushes out, her face flushed, arms crossed against the cold.
I cock my head at her. “I’m leaving.” I grab her and hug her, because yeah, Ashlee’s a bitch, but we’ve been through a lot together, and this is more than likely the last time I’ll see her.
“Jesus Christ, what are you doing?” She pulls back to look down at me. “Don’t do this. Everyone is drunk. You can walk right back inside and claim everything that you said was a joke.” Her eyes search mine.
I shake my head no. My eyes swim with tears. Again, ninety percent of the time I’ve hated Ashlee, but maybe I don’t. Not really. “You take care of you, Ash. It’s cold. Go back inside.”
“You’re making a huge mistake. You humiliated Phillip, and when you sober up and realize he pays the bills, you’re gonna have to crawl back.”
I step back, waving my hand at a cab that pulls over. “That’s just it—I’m not coming back. I’m done being a whore.” I open the cab door and slide in, not looking at her, not looking at anything but the cab driver who turns to look at me.
“Where to, beautiful?”
“Take me to JFK. Get me the fuck out of here.”
Jax
Twenty-seven years old
Los Angeles, California
“Jax, your phone is ringing.” I turn to Kevin, my sister-in-law’s assistant who stands in the doorway looking aggravated.
I look down at my shoes and grin. I’m being an ass by not answering. After all, this is the third time it’s gone off. “Where’s Tess?”
