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1 - ADDISON
You know the inner monologue you sometimes had? When you’re in line at the grocery store and you eyed the person behind you, imagining they weren’t buying oranges, but instead, were watching you, following you, spying on you? I did that sometimes: narrated my life as if people were watching me. Like they’d hidden cameras everywhere I’d gone, just to know my every move.
As I stared at the stars tonight, in some small, stupid way, imagining each pinprick of light was a camera made me feel better about myself. Feel better about my choices. Like my life had a higher meaning than the day in, day out work of staging houses and selling them before going home to my empty, minimalistic place, only to do it over again the next day. It sounded pathetic, and maybe it would be if I weren’t so damn good at my job.
The thought of silent eyes looking over my shoulder and judging me as I arranged white orchids to brighten the backsplash of a foyer or adjusting throw pillows on a chaise lounge chair to accent the color of the pool in the backyard made me feel like the hours in my day were worth as much as others.
I sold houses to millionaires and arranged furniture to buy new Louboutins. There was nothing fucking wrong with that.
Except, maybe there was.
Inadequacy bubbled up and slipped into my self-confidence, causing cracks and fissures to splinter through my chest. The cracks would be fine today, but weeks or months down the line, they would turn into holes and I’d be left wondering where and how it all went wrong.
Today should have reminded me what a beautiful badass I was, primed and ready to take over a thriving real estate business, but it didn’t. The firm remained out of reach, no matter how many houses I sold or contacts I made. Nothing was good enough, and the weight was crushing.
“It had to be the ocean,” I muttered to no one as I dug my toes in the sand.
This feeling of inadequacy and questioning everything had to come from looking past the dunes and waves and into the unending dark water. That had to be what was making my life feel particularly small tonight. I shook my head and closed my eyes, breathing in the cool, salty air before running my hands through my red locks.
I glanced behind me, where the steady thump of rap music was coming from the open windows of the gorgeous beach house I closed on last week. The party was well underway. The bass called my name, urging me to dance and let go of the nonsense in my head, but something kept my feet frozen and my mind on a continuous loop of past and future.
A wave crashed against the shore, and white sea foam rushed towards my bare feet. Now wasn’t the time for this, whatever this was. I clutched my heels and turned around, striding past the dunes and down the narrow beach access, only stopping to rinse off my feet and slip the heels back on before climbing the winding staircase to the front door. Walking around several people talking on the wrap-around porch, I stepped through the doors and was swept into the arms of a dashing, older man.
“It’s about time you stopped staring at the waves. You look sadder than a seagull who lost a french fry,” Grayson said, pulling me tightly to him before air-kissing my cheeks. “You’re the reason we could buy this prime piece of real estate, after all. Let me see you smile.”
“And I appreciate the invitation,” I said, giving him the smile he asked for before strolling arm in arm further into the foyer.
Servers in black vests and bow ties walked around with tall martini glasses filled with an electric blue liquid topped with a pineapple slice and umbrella. I shook my head, wondering what crazy concoction our eccentric hosts created for their housewarming party. For every two guests walking around, at least one held the blue drink. I might as well jump on the bandwagon and feel like I belonged with the hundred or some odd people in the cavernous space.
“Hmm.” He pulled me close, his breath fluttering the hair close to my ear, and whispered, “First try one of these.” He plucked a drink from a passing server and pushed it into my hands. I took a sip, grimacing at the alcohol-infused sweetness. “It’s coconut rum, spiced rum, coconut vodka, and pineapple juice, topped with blue curacao and a pineapple wedge.”
“It’s sweeeeet,” I said, pursing my lips. I took another sip to let the rum warm my stomach and ease the tension that followed me from the beach. The alcohol did its job, and I smiled—this one more natural than the last.
“Like you, darling. I’ve been scoping out the scene and can’t wait to see which lucky guy you take home tonight.”
I laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder, biting my lip and pretending to look around the room. He could go on thinking I was only here to pick someone up, and yeah, I would before the night was over, but calling me out so bluntly was a reminder my lifestyle wasn’t exactly a secret. It was out there in the open for all to see—and judge.
I glanced around the party, thinking all those tiny cameras watching me knew damn well the point of showing my face here on a Friday night—after spending nine agonizing hours in four-inch heels—was so those same heels could be propped up on someone’s shoulders while he pinched my nipples and played my body like his favorite instrument.
I squeezed my thighs together, taking another gulp while Grayson laughed, his breath still a warm flutter on my neck.
“It’s a good thing you’re off the market then, Grayson,” I said, taking a step back and fluffing my hair like I was preparing to go on the prowl. “I’d hate to have competition. I’d lose every time.”
“Competition for what?” a familiar voice asked, wiggling his eyebrows and strolling between us.
“Oh, sweetheart, get that mischievous look off your face,” Grayson replied to his husband, Stan, bending down to kiss the top of his head. “We were discussing Addison’s plans for this evening, and she was shamelessly flattering me.”
“Well, we know flattery is the way to your heart. I’ve just escaped the Parkers over there. They insist we come over for dinner next week, all to one-up us with their house.”
“Some people show off possessions to make up for their shortcomings. Don’t let it get you down. Besides, the contractors are coming to redo the upstairs next week, and the firm signed another agency. We barely had time for this party,” Grayson said, squeezing Stan’s hand and pulling him to his side.
I bent my knee, turning my ankle to look at my shoe. I loved pretty things and bringing home men. Was that so terrible? Did it make me shallow? Maybe. But it filled the gaping void in my chest left from wanting something I didn’t deserve. Something I’d never deserve.
“What was that, Addison?” Stan asked, turning from Grayson’s embrace. I wiped the stoic expression off my face and effortlessly slipped on my mask of confidence, grinning at the couple.
“Nothing, boys. Just admiring my shoes. I’m going to walk around. Thanks again for the invite.”
“Of course.” Both men air-kissed my cheeks, grasping my hands to say goodbye before letting go and turning, only to get swept away in another conversation. Finishing the blue-coconut concoction, I passed the empty glass to a server and asked for a club soda with lime, taking a minute to reapply my candy-flavored, red-tinted lip gloss before looking around.
