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Right now, he thinks I’m silly and careless, but I think he also thinks I’m tough and strong-willed.
I like being that version of me.
It’s New Lola.
But with this conversation, I’ll be introducing him to Old Lola, the one who isn’t strong and isn’t a smart ass. The one who let people take advantage of her, who sacrificed more than she should have.
And I’ll be honest with myself: I’m scared. I’m scared that once he hears my story and gets the full picture, Ben will look at me differently. See me differently.
But still. A promise is a promise.
“This story . . . It doesn’t . . . It can’t . . .” I sigh, staring at a wall because the words just aren’t coming out. His hands reach out for mine.
“It won’t leave this room, Lola. Whatever you tell me, you can trust that I won’t say anything to anyone unless you tell me to.” Well, I have no excuses left.
So I start at the beginning.
“My mom died when I was fifteen.” I stop, the words stuck in my chest.
“I know that.”
“Lilah was ten.” He nods again but doesn’t speak. “Back then, she was . . . Lilah. My little sister. I’ve always kept her safe.” I look at the ceiling, shaking my head at the lie we’d all been told. “My mom was good. She was amazing. Held my family together like glue. But what she did most of all was keep my dad together. When she was on her deathbed, days before she passed, she confessed years and years of lies and secrets to me. Secrets she’d been keeping since before I was born.”
I take a deep breath, knowing that it’s coming. “My dad . . . he’s got an addictive personality and he likes power. The two? They don’t mix.” Ben squeezes my hands, but I don’t feel it. I’m lost in the memory. “She made me promise, Ben. She was dying, and she looked me in the eye and made me promise. I was fifteen. I . . . I didn’t know. I didn’tunderstand. There were two things she wanted from me, and she was dying, and who was I to say no?” I stare at the wall, committing the art there to memory because I think a part of me is afraid this will be it.
That once he knows, he’ll be done with me and I’ll never see this beauty again.
“The first promise was I had to keep Lilah safe. I had to keep her out of the papers, away from questions. They couldn’t find out who she was. Who sheis.And two, I had to keep our dad steady. She told me without her, he’d lose his mind, get lost in grief, and transfer that to his work. He’d go power hungry and lose all sense of reality without her.” I look to the window, remembering the way her voice trembled with the warning.
She knew. She knew all along that this could happen. And her lies and her secrets contributed to it. “And she was right. And it became my job to keep him on track. I refused to let Lilah help or carry the burden. I needed to keep hersafe,Ben. I swear I didn’t . . . It wasn’t like I enjoyed it. But I figured one of us should have the good life without this shit touching them. And I had already promised. And I had gotten Mom for longer. It was . . . fair.” Ben's hand squeezes mine, the touch finally drifting into my consciousness.
“Babe, you’re not making any sense.” He’s right. I just need to put it out there.
“My dad gambles.” My eyes finally meet his. “He gambles and does it quietly because the sweet, beloved, widowed mayor of Ocean View can’t have a gambling addiction. No one would vote for a man with an ongoing addiction. But also, if everyone knows, he can’t use it to gain more power, more money, more . . . friends.” Another sigh, deep from my chest. Exhaustion. “He doesn’t do it above the board. It’s . . . dark. He gambles with money, and he gambles with power. But when you gamble with power, your opponents will do whatever it takes to get more.”
“Power?”
“Ordinances. Turning a blind eye to things. Permits and laws being passed to favor a seedy underbelly.”
“Fuck.” Ben’s eyes are wide with understanding, the knowledge that this is so much bigger than me and my bakery as he originally thought.
“I was left a trust. Lilah was too, but hers went to college. You thought I had family money, and I guess I did, so you weren’t completely wrong. But that didn’t build this business.” He looks confused, as he should. “I had to take care of him, Ben,” I say, and then, slowly, I watch it come over his face. It morphs from confusion to understanding to . . . anger.
“Lola, no—”
“It was what my mom wanted. I used it for a while, helping out. Sometimes tabs would pop up—there were threats about the media and revealing things—but it was mostly fine.” I look back at the wall, drawings, and framed beauty I could get lost in for days.
“Until?”
“Until he got mixed with the Carluccios.”
“Sounds about right.”
“He wasn’t supposed to work with them, Ben. Not ever.”
“Well, yeah, I can see why. They’re ruthless.”
“It’s not even that. It’s more. This. This is what I needed to keep Lilah safe from.” His hand moves, and fingers gently touch my chin until I look at him again.
