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CHAPTER 1
My mother’s wedding and the reception following it had gone well.
Mom looked happier than I had ever seen her. It was a bittersweet day for me since I had witnessed all those years of her and Daddy in what now, was so apparently, a loveless marriage. I chalked it up to my own naivety and inexperience with relationships.
Eric Slater was in love with my mother; my mother was in love with Eric Slater. It was as simple as that. Though anyone knowing how it was these two found each other would hardly have deemed it simple. It had actually been quite complicated.
My mother and father’s seemingly perfect marriage and life in suburbia had been a sham. I had worried about them when I started my freshman year away at college.
I knew that Mom devoted her time and efforts to Daddy and me. I knew she needed something of her own. I had nagged her before I left to develop some interests, find something to call her own. Much to my surprise, she did just that.
Over the course of my first year at Cornell, my visits home had been few and far between. I didn’t see Mom again until I was home for Christmas that year.
Boy, had she changed; not only in looks, but her demeanor as well. I had seen something in her that had not been present before: independence and self-assurance. They both looked great on her.
I knew that Daddy had been spending even more time away from home trying to oversee the East coast region of Banion Pharmaceuticals expansion.
Banion Pharmaceuticals had been founded by my great-grandfather more than a half-century before.
My mother was the only child and sole heir to that legacy. My father had been graced with a high-level position as a vice-president courtesy of my granddaddy, who had retired several years prior.
That was a tough year for all of us as I finally began to see the tears in their relationship; their marriage that was both fragile and fake.
I had suspected over the years that their marriage was different from those of my friends’ parents. It was lacking in so many ways.
Still, I knew that my mother had been raised by her mother to be somewhat subservient to the ‘man of the house’. As much as I loved my father, I knew that when and if the time came, I would do things differently than my mother and my grandmother before me.
That is where it became so complicated.
I loved my father so much that I had turned a blind eye from things I should have seen. I knew that he loved me. I suspected he loved me more than my mother, if in fact, he loved her at all.
I had become skeptical of his love the summer after my freshman year when I was interning at the Banion corporate office and manufacturing facility in our hometown of Indianapolis.
I returned from Cornell at the end of May that year for summer break. My mother hit me with the news that I had a brother or sister on the way. I was thrilled about it, hoping perhaps their lackluster marriage had finally taken a turn for the best.
Shortly after, I observed they had separate bedrooms. Mom tried to pass it off as being because of a ‘problematic’ pregnancy, but I had my doubts, and I kept quiet. I figured whatever was going on was their business.
I started my internship at Banion and immediately made a friend. He was a hottie working there for the summer during his hiatus from Purdue; a guy by the name of Eric Slater. That’s right, my step-father to be.
There were more surprises to come.
My father had a not-so-discreet relationship going with his executive assistant, Susanne.
When I brought this to my mother’s attention a short time later, she seemed totally undisturbed by it. I finally got the truth from her. It seems that my mother and father did not love each other; they probably never had.
My mother was carrying another man’s child, who she admittedly loved, however, was not certain that he loved her.
Things only got worse from that point on.
As it turned out, my father was involved in some sort of criminal network involving drug trafficking, racketeering, money laundering, to name just a few.
My colleague, Eric Slater, turned out to be an undercover Fed, along with the love of my mother’s life and father of her unborn child.
My mother had met him while living her secret life as a pole dancer at a Gentleman’s Club in Indianapolis. That’s right, a pole dancer.
By the end of the summer, I wished I hadn’t left Ithaca to come home at all. Home wasn’t home anymore. It seemed as if I had been living in a house of secrets and lies.
When I returned to Cornell that fall to start my sophomore year, I returned as a totally different person. My father had split to avoid prosecution, taking his paramour, Susanne, with him.
My mother had been held hostage briefly by a biker that threatened to slit her throat if she didn’t help him find the stash of drugs that the club had paid for but had not been delivered by my father’s assistant.
I spent most of the time before going back to Cornell with my grandparents. That is when I met Adam. He lived in the same condo complex as my grandparents. He had helped me cope during that period.
The relationship with Adam had given me hope. It was one I thought would grow and flourish. He had become my best friend. I had always heard that starting as friends is a great way to build a solid foundation for love. Unfortunately, that was not in the cards once again, for me.
I downed the rest of my champagne as the crowd from the reception started to dwindle down.
My grandparents had left, kissing me good-bye so that they could get my baby brother, Bryce, back to the house and in bed for the night. They were staying at Mom and Eric’s while they took a two-week cruise.
I had told Grandma I would catch a ride home with someone, but it was early, and I wasn’t ready to leave just yet.
I wouldn’t mind catching a good buzz. I deserved to feel a little high and giddy after the fucked-up year and a half I had gone through.
I grabbed another flute of champagne, as the waiter went by on his way to the kitchen.
We had just sent Slate (as I preferred to call him) and Mom away with the full barrage of rice and cheering. I was going to spend the night at their house and then head back to Charlottesville tomorrow afternoon. I was a junior at University of Virginia studying Economics.
Whoopee
I giggled to myself as the bubbly tickled my tongue going down.
Cool and smooth.
“Can I join this party?”
I looked up into the amused green eyes of Taz.
Taz Matthews was an agent for the FBI, same as Slate. They were also best friends. He was totally hot with his sandy brown hair and assortment of tats.
Speaking of cool and smooth.
“Sure, Taz. Cop a squat,” I replied, giggling, waving my hand to the empty chair beside mine.
He gave a slight chuckle, setting
down a glass containing ice and an auburn-colored liquid on the table, sliding into the seat.
