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“Everyone wants to look better online.”
Emilia raises the menu in her hand. “Hear, hear.”
I smile at her, I can’t help it. She’s infectious with her pleasant attitude and I’m suddenly not dreading her and King coming to the charity like I was moments ago. “Is everyone going to constantly be going to the charities Thorin picks out? Or will it just be these first two everyone decided to chaperone?”
“Whitney had fun, so she’ll probably end up coming back with Aillard as long as their schedules allow it. Depending on how King is, he may come back. He runs a charity himself that keeps him quite busy.”
“Grace’s Mission.” I nod with a faint smile. Prior to being around King, I would have said Grace’s Mission was his only redeeming quality. “I’ve worked with helping prep women for interviews at one of the locations.”
Emilia smiles at me. “They do wonderful work helping women, men, and children escape from domestic violence situations. King is working with a local school district right now about adding teen domestic violence counselors to be available for anyone who might need them. Violence doesn’t just appear in adults, and teens often hide it unfortunately.”
She’s right, as heartbreaking as it is to hear. Teens contribute to the national domestic violence numbers as well, though its rare charges are ever brought up. It’s also rare anyone ever comes forward to talk about it. “As much as I’m not a fan of your boyfriend, he does a remarkable job helping people in this city. I know his charity is spreading nationally slowly.”
“He hopes to eventually have locations in all major cities and then in high crime areas so people can get help.” Emilia’s shoulders sag slightly. “It’s dumb, but I wish he’d gone wider with his charity beforehand. Who knows how many people are waiting for a place like this to aid them?”
My brow furrows at her statement. “Did he not have the funds beforehand?”
“He’s recently been more vocal about the charity,” Emilia explains. “It was his passion project, but one he kept quiet about. I think he thought that being a man running a predominantly women’s shelter would put people off from going as if he would physically be there. Thankfully, more people are open to a man leading it after they found out about his grandmother’s domestic violence situation prior to marrying his grandfather. Now, I think it’s more widely accepted.”
It’s interesting to think people associate the founder and leader of a charity as the direct person in each shelter welcoming people inside. I could see how that mentality would make women hesitant to get help. I know last year when Aillard helped beef up their security it became common knowledge that all of Grace’s Mission’s shelters for any gender would have people monitoring to ensure their safety. It allows the people seeking shelter to feel safer which brought an increase in people’s attention and donations. King provides the space to seek help, infusing what he believes is important into each shelter without being the main face you see. It’s admirable.
Emilia stops to look at me, her blue eyes shining darker than her boyfriends. I’m not sure what she’s seeing as her eyes scan over my face. “Do you know where the next event Thorin wants to attend will be?”
I adjust my pink glasses on my nose, something I do when I fidget with my hands. Emilia makes me nervous due to her proximity to King, Aillard, and Thorin. Regardless that she’s nice to me while sitting here, I know who’s allegiance will always come first. Who she’ll side with if Thorin and I get into an argument or I say something truthful she doesn’t like to hear about her boyfriend. She’s a strong woman and I’m not used to being around people like her who radiate their strength in an almost tangible effect. “Yes,” I warily answer.
“What will we need to wear there?” Emilia’s excitement as she asks makes my stiff shoulders drop as I quietly laugh. Clearly she’s heard about Aillard and Thorin having to change their attire from the last event.
“Comfy clothes,” I advise. “Not suits. We’ll be moving some things around. Also make sure you don’t wear white. Some of the items if dropped can stain and you won’t want that on your clothes.”
Emilia frowns. “What are we doing exactly?”
Usually I would tell someone so they’re prepared, but this almost feels too personal to indulge to someone who’s not actually invested in the charity itself. “It’s not something many people know about, but it’s for a great cause.” I’m purposely being vague as hell, and from the click I can hear of her back teeth, I can tell my answer annoys her.
Emilia sighs as she tucks a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “It’ll be hell to get King to leave his beloved suits behind.”
It’s interesting to me how Emilia knows the thirty year old King lives and breathes in his suits, but the twenty-two year old King I knew was wearing nine hundred dollar Gucci jeans and Dior shirts that cost the same as some people’s rent. “I’m sure he’s still got some leisure wear,” I forcefully chuckle, thinking about the juxtaposition of the two versions of King we know.
She cocks a brow at me before suddenly declaring, “You’re an interesting person.”
My brows pinch together at her random statement. “I am?”
“Yes. You’re clearly very giving based on your charitable actions. I’m just confused why you’re in so much debt and need King to pay your way out of it. Don’t you make a lot of money being a Hastings? Or do you give a majority of it to charity?”
Confusion weighs heavy on my mind. “Didn’t Thorin tell you why I was in debt?” He knew about it considering my father and I hadn’t been speaking for a year at the point he entered my life. I’m surprised King didn’t use it then as some sort of reason that I married Thorin even though I didn’t realize he was one ofthoseRavenscroft’s considering Thorin didn’t even say he was a Ravenscroft, but a Bellevue which was his mother’s maiden name. Which was the name I was planning on using when I changed documents over,Bexley Bellevue, but thankfully nothing had gone that far.
Emilia shakes her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
Huh. “I changed my major to English at the beginning of sophomore year, something my father despises. He told me to switch it back or he would cut me off,” I explain. “Dad makes too much money for me to receive federal assistance. I took out a lot of loans. Got into a lot of debt to pay for school because I refused to change my mind.” I sigh. It wasn’t a decision I regret because it’s my life and I have to have a degree I see as something I can use until I retire. But I regret the fracture it drove into our already fragile family. “I shouldn’t have stayed at NYU, it was too expensive but I was determined to get a degree from the same place my mom did. It would’ve been cheaper to go somewhere else, and I know my mom wouldn’t have cared where I went, but–” I stop and shrug.But I wanted to feel close to her. “Anyways, Dad was mad that I changed my major and essentially disowned me.” I spread my hands out in awhat can you domanner.
Emilia blinks at me several times. “But you work for him.”
“Sure, if you want to be technical about it. But I don’t work with him or in direct contact with him. I make the same pay someone relatively new to the industry does. I have influential clients, but the money isn’t exactly flowing like people assume for my type of job.”
“So who inherits Hastings Humanitarian Foundation when he passes?”
“Probably someone else like his VP or something,” I say. The words taste like ash on my tongue. Dirty and wrong. It’s one reason I’m so furious at my father. Just because I have a strong passion for speech writing and editorial items doesn’t mean I can’t still run the foundation I grew up knowing backwards and forwards. Even though I stay here to work alongside people who knew my mother, I genuinely love the atmosphere and prestige that comes with being part of Hastings Center. “The meeting with Dad and Aillard was the first time we spoke in months. Usually when he speaks to me it’s just to ask basic questions he could send in an email.” We rarely even talk at our monthly dinners at Nana Noel’s.
Emilia’s tone softens as she reaches out to grab my hand lying lifelessly on the table. “I’m sorry, Bex. We had no idea.”
