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Chapter Two
The country club in Helensville was vast and impressive, to say the least. The rolling grass of the golf course—scattered with men and women in white outfits laughing, as they sipped margaritas in the sun—spoke volumes. I’d been there a thousand times, yet every time I stepped onto the ground, it never failed to make me feel inferior and out of place.
Licking my dry lips, I adjusted my outfit—a soft pastel pink silk shirt and a pair of black straight leg business pants, ones that I’d designed and made myself. I wore a pair of black stiletto heels, knowing that my normal daily flip flops or street shoes would have me turned away at the door instantly, no matter whose name I dropped.
The loud hum of a Harley pulling into the parking space beside me wasn’t surprising, and I looked over to see who had the joy of following me around today.
Leo took off his helmet and smiled as he switched off the engine. “You need me to come inside?” he asked as he scrutinized the large building behind me with his eyes.
“I’m pretty sure they don’t let in riff-raff like you.” I grinned.
Leo smirked. “That’s a shame. Maybe some of those old ladies could do with a little spice in their lives.”
I laughed and turned to head for the front doors, calling over my shoulder, “I’ll let them know you’re out here just in case they decide to take a ride on the wild side.”
His deep laughter filled me with courage as I pushed open the doors and stepped inside. The boys from the club had been amazing since we’d arrived, never once complaining about having to follow us around, and always willing to humor Harlyn as she endeavored to find out everything she could about the brotherhood.
The lady behind the front desk made sure to give me an obvious once over before turning back to her computer. “How may I help you?” she asked with a slight sneer.
The notion that she’d already dismissed me, even though I’d put in an effort to make myself presentable, was almost enough to have me abandoning my mission. I bit my tongue, fighting against the urge to tell the older woman how out of date her fashion sense was, and how I knew the shirt she was wearing was out of a Walmart catalog.
Instead, I pinched my palm and inhaled deeply before answering her, “My name is Su… I mean, Anna Sulivan. I’m here to see my parents, Judy and Martin Sulivan.”
This had her ears perking up and her back straightening as she turned back toward me and once again looked me up and down. “The only daughter they ever have visit them is Eva. I can’t seem to remember meeting you…” She let the words hang in the air like she’d caught me in some terrible lie.
“Then you must be new here, sweetheart.” I laughed, hoping those words would somewhat piss her off.
Success!
She narrowed her eyes which were magnified by thick glass lenses and stood from her chair, stepping around the desk. “They’re in the dining room. I will walk you to them.”
Grinning, I held out my hand, gesturing for her to lead the way. “Oh, that would be lovely, thank you.”
She didn’t trust me, and I found it comical as she stomped down the hallway with me trailing behind her like she was some kind of jailer ready to lock me up and throw away the key. We weaved through the restaurant until I finally spotted my parents at their favorite booth in the corner of the room. Judy and Martin Sulivan were people watchers. Well, no, they were more than that. They didn’t like to just watch, they liked to judge.
Growing up, my sister and I had thought of it as some kind of game. While my parents would laugh about who was with who, and whether someone was eating a burger instead of a salad or chewing with their mouth open, Eva and I would pick out people’s outfits and discuss what was in and what was out, and who won the best-dressed prizes.
It wasn’t until I was older that I realized just how judgmental my parents were and how that one disgusting act had rubbed off on us. I trembled as we pulled up in front of my parents’ table. My mother’s signature white-blonde permed hair caused my heart to stop as I waited for them to acknowledge our presence.
“Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Sulivan, but it seems you have a visitor,” the old wench said begrudgingly, as she stepped aside to evaluate how my parents would receive me.
I caught my father’s eyes first, and for a brief second, a flurry of different emotions proceeded to cross his face. They ranged from surprise to relief, to just holy mother of Christ. But they were soon gone.
My mother coughed as she tried to swallow back a mouthful of expensive wine, her hand going to her throat. “Anna?”
With the obvious recognition, my jailer gave a harsh huff and spun on her heel, stomping from the dining room.Good riddance.
Shuffling from foot to foot, I stood awkwardly at the edge of the table, not knowing what to do or say.
“Um… would you like to sit?” my father finally recommended, and a relieved breath left my lungs as I scooted into the booth beside him. A part of me wanted to reach out to them, to hug them and allow their warmth to wrap around me. But that wasn’t the aura they were portraying. It wasn’t the same as when I was young, and my dad would pull me in under his arm and tell me stories about his day in court. Or when my mother would lift me onto the kitchen counter, both watching in awe as our private chef mixed and stirred the most magnificent desserts and pastries.
Those are the things I remember about my parents. While our home life wasn’t what you’d call normal. There were still intimate moments, pieces of my past that I remembered which reminded me that once they had actually cared.
They may have still been stuck up snobs who threw money around like it was confetti, but they loved my sister and me and wanted us to grow up to be successful members of society—only not just any society, but theirs.
Unfortunately, I’d failed, destroyed their dreams for me and essentially stomped all over them. The warmth of those memories was gone, and now in its place were two people who looked like they were almost ashamed to have me sitting at the same table as them.
I was the daughter they never spoke of, the daughter who was handed off to someone else in hopes that I would become someone else. Their dirty little secret, that’s what I’d become.
