P.I.T.A. (L.A. Liaisons #3)(25)

"You looked fine when I saw you earlier." Shayne frowned and lowered her latte. "This isn't about me leaving, is it?"

From the lack of reaction on the other girls' faces, it seemed she'd already spilled the news about that.

I sighed. "It's just …  Can I launch into my Daddy-doesn't-love-me speech for a minute?"

"Uh oh," Ryleigh said, resting her chin on her hands. "Spill."

I told them about the phone call I'd gotten in the parking lot, how it'd come from someone other than the two people it should've, how all my childhood memories were now packed up and sent off to become some other child's memories, and why did I even care anymore?

"Because they're your parents and you'd feel like a bad person if you didn't," Shayne said, sitting back so the waitress could set some scrumptious Mama's French Toast in front of her.

"You know what's crazy?" I said. "All I ever wanted growing up was a normal family. I wanted dinner at a set time every night, and I wanted both of my parents there. I wanted them to ask how my day was. To care enough to get upset when I kicked a kid in the groin after he stole the Debbie cake out of my lunchbox."

"Aww," Quinn said, "and then somewhere along the way you became a jaded, cold-hearted bitch."

My head jerked in her direction. "Quinn."

Quinn slung her arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. "Aw. Sorry, this was beginning to sound a little Lifetime movie."

The other girls chuckled and began to cut into their food as I took another sip of my coffee, thinking over her words. Maybe Quinn had a point. A good point. Maybe it was time I did something other than whine and bitch about it.



       
         
       
        

"Look, Paige, I'm just gonna say it. Fuck your parents," Quinn said. "I know that's the thing you're not supposed to say, but if they don't want to be a part of your life, then that's their loss."

"I'm gonna have to agree with Quinn. You've got us, and you've got Dawson, so what the hell do you need anyone else for anyway?" Ryleigh said.

"That's right, you've got your own money, your own house-" Shayne stopped herself. "Okay, maybe you've got, like, half a house. You should probably do something about that."

Laughing, I poured more coffee into my cup, and this time I added a couple of sugars. "I'll get on that, stat, thank you."

"This is the same tough-love speech you would give me. And it's the same one you would've come to on your own eventually, but I figured I'd help speed up the healing process," Quinn said.

I laid my head on her shoulder. "I love you guys. You know that, right? I never really had proper girlfriends until I met you hookers. I always had-"

"Dawson," Shayne filled in.

"Right," I said. "So, thank you for accepting me even when I'm heinous and have no filter."

Shayne reached over and put her hand on top of mine. "We love you too. But don't be surprised when your Christmas gift this year is a muzzle."





CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Screw Memory Lane





AFTER HANGING WITH the girls, I found myself driving aimlessly around the city. Or what I thought was aimlessly, because my subconscious had a different idea. Before I knew it, I was driving up to the gate of the neighborhood I rarely visited. The lush, gated Beverly Hills community I grew up in was not somewhere I wanted to be nowadays, choosing to have any sort of forced family get-together or meal anywhere else, so the fact that I'd somehow steered myself in its direction was surprising.

For at least the remainder of the day, I was still on the list of residents and family, and as I made my way past the gate attendant, I couldn't quite pinpoint how that bit of information made me feel. Was I upset? Relieved to now be separated by an ocean from two of the most inconsiderate, incompetent parents known to man? Yeah. Maybe a little of both.

Making a right, I drove past the tennis courts where I'd learned to play a pretty decent game, if only because the instructor had been a hot older guy I wanted to impress. And impress I did, though that love affair had turned disastrous. That had been the last time I'd allowed myself to get suckered into a relationship, and it had been Dawson's advice that set me on the path to badass bitch self-discovery. Huh. I hadn't thought about that in a while. 

Speaking of Dawson, his parents still lived in the mega mansion next door to the one my parents had just sold to the highest bidder, and, as I always did when I passed whether they saw it or not, I waved before pulling into my parents' drive.

My key still fit in the lock, and as I pushed open the front door for the last time, I found myself looking at a place I didn't even recognize. When Barry had mentioned everything had been moved out, I knew it was true, but it was different seeing it. Walking through the long corridor that was lit only by slices of the sun filtering in from half-open blinds, it felt nothing like the home I'd lived in for eighteen years. The kitchen was bare, bar the bigger appliances, and I remembered how many pastries their chef had let me steal from the counter when my parents would throw one of their opulent parties. It's strange, the things you remember and take with you.

I let my fingers run across the cool marble countertops-not a speck of dust to be seen-and then I crossed through the open doorway and into the vast living room, with the oversized shutters that went high up on the wall. I'd always hidden from the events my parents were so fond of-at least, I had until I hit my later high school years and came into my own.

Sitting down on the cool tile, I crossed my legs and let the memories flip through my mind. But the happiest ones weren't the ones that had taken place here. They'd been the ones I'd made next door. Growing up, Dawson's family had been more my family-their house had been where I spent hours doing homework, where Dawson and I played video games and watched movies until we fell asleep. My parents never noticed that I didn't come home those nights, instead getting tucked into the guest bedroom by his mom. It had been my happy place, the one I escaped to when life at the Traynor-Ashcroft household was a little too lonely.

With the girls in my life and having a career that kept me so busy, I didn't feel lonely anymore. But was I? The reality was that I no longer had a family. And though the girls said you could choose your own-and I agreed-I still felt … adrift. Unanchored somehow. Which made no sense, because I was happy. Wasn't I?

"Paige?" Dawson's cautious voice echoed in the cavernous space, and I looked over to where he was standing, half in the shadows. A sliver of the sun's rays through one of the shutters crossed his face, and the effect made him look truly beautiful. Was it the sunlight, though, or did he just look different to me after last night? I couldn't pinpoint what it was, but as he took a tentative step toward me, I felt a faint flutter in my chest.

"Hey," I said, and he took that as an invitation to come closer.

"I was next door and saw your car … "

"Ah. Lunch with the family?"

"Among other things," he said. Then he inclined his head at the empty space next to me. "May I?"

I brought my legs up to my chest and gave him a sardonic smile. "I've never known Richard Dawson to ever ask permission for anything. More like act first, apologize-"

"Later," he said, finishing my sentence and sitting down beside me. "Yeah." His fingers ran over the foot of tile between us, and he looked up at me with hooded eyes. "But I'm not here to make any apologies for last night."

"I wouldn't want you to."

His expression softened. "No?"

"No. The only way to get someone out of your system is to fuck them out, right?" When his forehead creased, I rocked into his side. "I'm kidding. Geez. I'm not that harsh."

Dawson gave me a sideways look, and I laughed.




       
         
       
        
"Okay, maybe sometimes I'm that harsh. But … it was what it was, and I have to say … " I reached over and patted his jean-covered cock. "Not bad, babe. Not bad at all."

Dawson shook his head as he chuckled, and then he reached over to grab a handful of my breast. "Likewise, love."

When he took his hand away, I shrugged. "Maybe I'd let you do it again if you promised not to throw pie in my hair."

"Now where would the fun in that be?"

"Uh … in the letting you do it again part. Ass."

"I'm sorry, all I heard was letting you do it and ass."

"That's because you grew from an adorable child into a sex-crazed pervert."

"I didn't hear any complaints last night."

"Maybe you would've if we hadn't been interrupted. Speaking of which, I think you traumatized poor Shayne. I'll have her send you the bill for any therapy or eye-bleaching she needs."

"Duly noted." His gaze trailed over the empty space, and I was sure he was reliving memories of his time there too. Couldn't imagine he had too many fond ones.

Dawson nodded over to the alcove off to the side that had previously stored my father's first edition books of all shapes and sizes-which, of course, he'd never used. It'd been a hiding place for me, somewhere tucked out of the way where I could read or write in my journal.