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Chapter 4
Addie
“What do you mean he didn’t show up?” D.O.D snapped into his phone, body vibrating with an almost elemental fury. This had been becoming more and more common, not just with my parents’ company. Stores and restaurants, especially those that were family-owned, had shut down due to a lack of workers. With the disease sweeping across the nation, the world, according to the news, more and more people preferred to stay huddled inside. The President had issued a statement last week addressing this problem. He had pleaded for the country to come together and carry on like we had before.
He seemed to have trouble understanding that nothing was like it was before.
Storms still ravaged the east coast, and the west coast was still dealing with the after effects of the volcano. Ragers ran rampant on the street, forced to be shot down by officers.
“Well, fire his sorry ass!” D.O.D snapped.
I shrank further down in my seat as his anger grew. With nowhere to go, no business to run, Daddy had taken up his second favorite activity: hurting me. I had just barely escaped his fit of rage unscathed last time.
Unfortunately, I had to finish this dinner before I could even think of escaping. I’m quite certain that death would occur to me if I didn’t.
Stirring my soup, I dared peek through my fringe of lashes at the other occupants. My parents had invited Mr. Julius and his son, Lorenzo. Enzo, as he liked to be called, was a handsome boy with naturally-tanned skin and a shock of dark hair.
Too bad he was a masochistic dick.
The only saving grace for this shit-fest dinner was the catering crew, aka the guys. How my parents failed to recognize that the same person was a physical therapist, a chef, and an IT programmer was beyond me. Considering my mom flashed each guy at least once, her obliviousness and stupidity was a blessing in disguise.
The guys had apparently decided to completely immerse themselves in my life. I couldn’t say I minded. The darkness that had always seemed to consume me was receding into the crevices of my brain - not nearly as overwhelming as it once was.
I felt relief with their continual presence. Despite everything, they weren’t giving up on me.
“So, Adelaide,” Mr. Julius said stiffly once my dad ended his phone call. “I heard that you were a fan of the ballet. Maybe Enzo could take you sometime.”
Two things.
First, I absolutely hated the ballet. They bored me and 99% of the time I would fall asleep. Secondly, I would rather sit through twenty hours of the ballet than go anywhere with Enzo.
Ryder, posing as a waiter, scooped potatoes onto Enzo’s plate with more force than necessary. When he got to me, he was much more gentle, and he slipped something into my hands.
A note.
I smiled giddily, thinking of the other collection of napkins and papers he had given me this evening.
What a prick.
I’m bored.
Crinkle your noseso I know you’re reading these.
Glancing from my left,where Mother sat, to my right, where Enzo was lounging, I unfolded the new note Ryder had given me.
Fallon accidentally setyour kitchen on fire. Whoops.
Though I hadn’t seenhim, Ryder had told me that Fallon was acting as a chef. Asher was his helper. All of the boys tried to visit me at least once a week, minus Calax whose face was too recognizable. Of course, that pissed him off to no end. He hated not being able to see me constantly, not being able to protect me. I had put him on Mof duty, my tiny feline companion. Though he complained constantly, I knew the little furball was growing on him.
The boys had paraded around my house as cleaners, kitchen staff, computer experts, and more. It would’ve been almost comical if I hadn’t been genuinelyconcerned over the idiocy of my parents.
I snorted as I read Ryder’s note, ignoring the inquiring glance Enzo threw my way. Folding it up, I shoved it into my sock.
“How does that sound, Addie? You and Enzo at the ballet,” D.O.D asked, sipping daintily from his wine glass.
What it sounded like was torture, the slow and painful kind. Of course, I couldn’t say so to my dad. It wasn’t “appropriate” dinner conversation. Not the torture part, that was fine, but the me having an opinion part.
Instead, I said, “I’m pretty sure that the ballet had been canceled, Father.”
