JACE-1(Lane Brothers, Book 3)(8)
That’s the only reason I didn’t just skip out and call it all quits. I want my mom free of this all so that she can finally have some semblance of a life. That’s been my motivation from the start, and one of the key factors in this investigation; I won’t leave my mother behind and watch while my father keeps her under his iron thumb.
As Ronny and Paulie keep prattling on about shoes and the benefits of matching colors versus the newest trend of accent shoes, I take a minute to scan the sitting room and get a look at the entry points and the security.
I am not some super ninja agent who can break a security alarm and slide into places undetected, but I am somewhat trained, and it’s engrained in me to take it all in in case I need to make a quick exit.
Plus, I just like scoping everything out and wondering how the other Lanes afford all this luxury when I know damn good and well that their money dried up a good three years ago and none of them have worked a day in their lives.
Parasites.
“So Tracy, darling, how is that handsome devil Timothy?”
I snap out of my musings and meet Ronny’s cold blue eyes with a calm I do not feel. Like I don’t know that her smug look is due to her having had an affair with Timothy last year when she came to DC with her aunt Cleo.
I don’t care all that much; I just hate having to sit here and smile back when I want to slap her for being such a bitch and liar. Jesus, I pity poor Paulie for having to endure this nasty piece of work all these years.
“He’s still screwing his way through the society misses,” I answer, smiling sweetly at her gasp and Paulie’s uncomfortable tittering. “As long as he keeps that dick away from me and pads my bank account, we should do just fine, though.”
I don’t let on that I know, but I can see that she knows that I know and it’s a great feeling seeing Ronny this uncomfortable.
Ronny looks like she’s about to turn green and stands with a swallow and a scowl.
“I need to make a quick call, girls, I’ll be right back.”
Well damn, if I knew all it would take to clear the room of evil was a reference to my stupid fiancé, I would have made a comment earlier. Now I won’t have to breathe brimstone all afternoon.
Paulie and I are left alone as Ronny practically runs from the room in a huff, leaving us able to speak freely for the first time. This is rare whenever that other woman is around, because Paulie isn’t the type to dominate a conversation, unless she’s secure with the person or people around her. And Ronny, well, she’s the same vain, narcissistic ass she always was.
“So,” I say, turning back to Paulie with a smile. “How are things with you lately?”
Paulie is the same unassuming girl I remember from four years ago with her unstyled long brown hair and her deep brown eyes. She’s easily one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, and yet she hides herself behind her shy smiles and the books that are always her companions when she’s not running around after Ronny.
“Fine, I guess.”
“Just fine?”
I ask this because I’m really interested and not because I want to use her to get to Ronny, which I am going to do anyway.
I love this girl, and I care about what’s going on in her life.
“Yeah, um, I’ve been talking to Aunt Cleo most days when Ronny disappears for hours on end, and, well, she said that she’d help me get into a good school if I wanted to go.”
This is said with so much hope and yet an air of resignation. Paulie is a classic example of the poor little rich girl who hasn’t been allowed a choice in anything but the clothes she wears and the men she can see.
Like me, she’s her parents’ puppet. Unlike me, her parents haven’t even allowed her to get an education. She’s a commodity, something to trade and sell whenever the need arises, which it soon will if rumor is to be believed and the Hayes clan is skinflint.
Not all rich kids are privileged like most people assume. I thank God I never had to grow up as a Hayes female. Talk about going back to the Dark Ages.
“That’s great, Paulie. Maybe you could pursue that arts degree you always spoke about,” I say gently, battling tears when she smiles sadly and shakes her head.
“Mama and Daddy would never allow it and you know it. It’s a waste of time for a gently reared female to pursue such frivolous activities,” she says, parroting the very same speech I heard Mr. Hayes give years ago.
No, it’s a waste of such astounding talent to let Paulie’s art go untutored. I don’t say this, though, because it just hurts her more having me compliment her when she doesn’t believe she can do it. Or doesn’t think it’s a dream worth having when her parents are such tyrants. What I wouldn’t give right now to shake my friend awake and open her eyes to all the possibilities that abound, if only she’d leave her clan and attempt to reach for the dreams they won’t allow her.