Surrender To Me (Surrender Trilogy Book 2) Page 9

  I am torn. Carter has done a lot of things that could potentially bring her bad press—why does it matter so much now? There’s a lot about the world in general, and hers in particular, that I still don’t understand. Apparently not even someone with Carter’s wealth can ignore everyone’s opinions—now that I share it, there’s a responsibility.

  “I thought you’d be interested in that,” she says. “You could make some connections, and all of this helps women business owners. Nothing to feel guilty about.”

  “I don’t know. I owe my professors as well, I can’t expect them to make an exemption for me every time something doesn’t fit in my schedule. First the ‘time-out,’ now there’s Muriel around all the time…I don’t want to coast on my privilege.”

  “What do you want?” Carter asks patiently, and for a moment I’m reminded of the early days, when I didn’t know what her agenda was, didn’t have a say in any matter.

  Before I can come up with an answer, she says, “There’s a bit of a conflict here, I get that. I’m sorry, but I need you at that event, and I don’t think it’s too much to ask for. People know about the wedding, and they are curious. The longer we put it off, the more awkward it will be. I can’t believe you’d start studying today. You’ve been going to your group twice a week. Take the exam, I’m sure you’ll do great. Tonight, I need you to be ready when it’s time to leave.”

  She gets up, gives me a quick kiss. “I have to go. Have a good day.”

  Minutes later, I still sit in the same spot. What happened?

  Chapter Eleven

  Muriel and I attend three classes this morning. I’m unsure what to do, just be a good girl and follow all the instructions, or…I send Traci a text message and apologize for missing the meeting. She texts me back right away, saying it’s fine, and she doesn’t mind if I leave early—Carter already talked to her. I stare at the letters, the professor’s voice vanishing into the background. Doors opening for me, all the time, just like this, it makes me uneasy. I’m well aware that the world in general isn’t fair, and hard work doesn’t always lead to rewards, but this is not something I can let go of easily.

  The feeling intensifies after we meet with Carter’s siblings where Muriel stays at a respectful distance, choosing a table with a guy who quickly introduces himself as Dev. I’ve never seen him before, but I assume he’s part of the security staff.

  Why did I need to be here for this uncomfortable conversation? I thought everything that needed to be said had been discussed yesterday.

  “See, this is what’s making this so hard to understand,” Jimmy says. “You have everything. You have a wife now, I don’t know, maybe you even want a family someday.”

  Now this is interesting. Carter’s expression is unreadable as she waits for him to continue.

  “Do you really still feel the need to go toe to toe with drug dealers and pimps? How about letting it go, and we all wouldn’t need those extra bodyguards. Penny?”

  “It’s because of this sort of lowlife that I almost lost Penelope and a good friend of mine,” Carter interjects, making a point of using my full name. Sometimes it’s reverent and sexy. At this moment, it’s only to put her brother in his place. “Look, I’m not even asking you to pay for any of it.”

  “That’s not the point. I can pay for my own security.”

  Susan is silent.

  “I don’t understand what the problem is,” I admit. “Carter has helped these women…”

  “Illegally more often than not.”

  “Because she could! How many people just do nothing, or turn away when they are faced with an opportunity to help? I can’t believe you’re mad because of the inconvenience that comes with a few extra security guards.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m highly inconvenienced by the fact that someone might try to go after my family because my sister has to play the hero. It’s not your job, Carter.”

  “It has to be someone’s job,” she says darkly. “This is getting nowhere. Why don’t you go home and let me worry about these things? We’ll get the guy who took Colette, and we’ll hand him over to the authorities, again. He’ll have some more names to share, and it will all be over. I thought we had settled this.”

  Jimmy tosses his napkin onto the table.

  “I’m beginning to understand why Mom avoided talking to you all those years. The idea you could be wrong on something never once enters your mind, does it?”

  “That’s enough. Enjoy your stay in town, but don’t bother me. Penelope?”

  I have no choice other than to follow her.

  When we’re in the backseat of the car, after she’s instructed the driver to get us to headquarters, I take her hand. She flinches, but doesn’t pull away.

  “Thanks for trying,” she says tiredly. I think of what Colette said earlier, their shared history. When did Carter start getting so involved, and why did she make it her mission not to look away when others do? Me, Colette and Muriel, Emilia, changing the course of all of those stories takes a lot more than money. There’s a passion that borders on desperation.

  “How did it all start?” I wonder out loud. “You know, I had some conversations…with Muriel and Colette.”

  “I don’t have a tragic story to tell you. Knowing Colette allowed me some insights I wouldn’t have had otherwise. Things we know about but don’t want to remind ourselves everyday. I hated it. I wanted to do something. So here we are.”

  “What made you chose them?”

  “Opportunity?”

  “So I was a randomly chosen winner too,” I muse, not entirely sure how I feel about it.

  “Nothing about you is random. Don’t go there, ever. I wanted you.”

  “And you always get what you want.”

  That makes her smile. “Most of the time, yes, but you know that already.”

  * * * *

  It shouldn’t matter so much, I know, but when you’re out in public, the wife of one of the richest women in the country, it’s a relief to have a talented stylist at your beck and call. In the vacation home, I thought I did a pretty decent job doing it by myself. Denise works magic every time, and when I see the results, I almost don’t mind losing study time anymore.

  Carter wears these gowns and elaborate hairstyles with a shrug, it’s an afterthought to her, going with what’s appropriate for the context, no big deal.

  It’s nothing usual for me. I feel like a princess, an all grown up feminist princess in her thirties. There’s something about this image making me cringe. Welcome to womanland. Damned if we don’t, damned if we do.

  In any case, this should do and show the world there was no reason ever to assume Carter committed a crime, and that I’m by her side because I want to. Of course, Carter, in a simple slit black dress that comes down to her ankles, black stiletto heels, upstages me. That’s fine, she’s going to accept the award after all.

  These days, it’s hard for me to anticipate what’s going to happen next, so the best is to just go with the flow, follow the instructions.

  There’s a cocktail buffet in the lobby, and as soon as we’re there, a lot of people want to talk to Carter. I’m left to mingle, or drink by myself. I shouldn’t do too much of the latter, as there’s still the exam tomorrow.

  * * * *

  I feel hung over and not entirely happy as I leave the classroom, wondering if I made the passing grade. I could kick myself—it’s not like it was that hard, and Carter is right, I’ve been going to those study groups, trying to keep up, but my mind is on too many different things. Maybe I’m simply not cut out for this. When I was still working at the café Vienna, I dreamed about having absolute financial security, thinking it would make my life so much easier and clear my mind for studying. I worry. It’s what I do, rich or poor, better or worse. This is why our private, intimate life has been such a revelation to me—those are the few moments where my mind isn’t on something else, something that I should be doing. Carter told me from the beginning she wouldn’t mind
if I didn’t work. I pushed her to give me the internship so I didn’t feel like…what, taking advantage? That’s an odd way to look at it, because I didn’t ask her for anything to begin with.

  There are groups of students in the cafeteria, hanging out after the exam. I look for familiar faces, startled when I realize that my arrival seems to bring conversations to a halt across the room. Then they start again, and I try to overhear, but don’t succeed. I’m pretty sure I caught the term ‘sugar mama’ from one table. While I contemplate going over there and tell them my life is absolutely none of their business, Muriel appears behind me. “I guess they have seen this. I’m sorry.”

  She shows me a newspaper article on her table. The headline is enough to make my jaw drop. “What?”

  Carter Forbes presents her wife at the WEA awards ceremony.

  I thought I’d done an okay job, small-talk, smiles and staying away from the cameras best I could, but obviously it wasn’t enough. I skim over the article, soon disheartened with the idea that everyone, from the students to the university president, and the professor who gave the exam today, might have seen it. It’s as bad as I ever imagined, painting me as a precious object acquired for the collection of a ridiculously rich person. It’s not like that, I know it and Carter knows it which matters most, right?

  I look around once more, but no one’s meeting my gaze, all of them suddenly occupied with their coffees and muffins.

  “Yikes,” I say for the lack of a better word. “Yesterday I felt like a princess, now I feel like a gold digger. What a rude awakening.”

  “They are curious,” Muriel says with a shrug. “The press, I mean. They have no comparatives, as Carter didn’t really introduce her dates to the public.”

  “This makes me look bad. It’s not even an original story.”

  “It’s the only story they can come up with, apparently. Come on, forget about it. Let’s eat something. You’ll feel better.”

  I don’t think so, but I appreciate her attempt. Besides, I’m not willing to retreat. If someone here has questions, they could just ask me instead of speculating behind my back.

  At this point, I’m glad to know Muriel, and Colette, women who can confirm the reality I live in now, which is so foreign to everyone else in my life. They know the truth, don’t they?

  * * * *

  I come home to someone playing guitar in the den, the chords sounding wistful, fitting my mood. I haven’t talked to Carter all day.

  “You’re still in town,” I say to Jimmy who interrupts his play by the fireplace.

  “Obviously. I’m planning to stay until I can talk reason into Carter.”

  Whatever that might be. Men sometimes have this strange idea that whatever they think is always more reasonable than a woman’s point of view, even if it’s his own sister. I like him, but he’s wrong on this—and what would Carter do anyway, after the fact? The man who beat up Colette will be apprehended and turned over to the authorities. I feel relieved to think that it will be mostly Nick involved in the specifics. Carter doesn’t mind getting her hands dirty when it’s for a good cause, but she has a business to run after all. It will all work out.

  “I thought you were doing the tour?”

  “My manager thought it was better to delay the second half—the security risk. Look, I’m not saying this because I’m jealous. I get by nicely. I’ve dealt with some very rich people, and they all have this in common—looking for the next thrill. If you have everything money can possibly buy, if there’s nothing you truly desire that you can’t get at one click or phone call—what do you do? I don’t want anything bad to happen to Carter. I just wish she’d found another hobby, instead of getting mixed up with this kind of people.”

  “She has also helped a lot of people,” I say sharply. “That’s hardly a hobby.”

  “No, it’s not, but the principle is the same. Satisfaction doesn’t come easily when there isn’t a challenge.”

  “Who says I have no challenges?” Carter says behind me, making me jump as if I’ve done something forbidden. “Come with me to the office sometime, you’ll see. In fact I have to go back in an hour or so, but I wanted to see my wife for a bit. I’m not sure I’m happy to see you still here, no offense, J. I think we’ve said everything.”

  “I’m sorry for what I said about Mom. It’s still true that you got involved in some bad shit, and I hope you care about your family enough to let it go.”

  “If you’re hungry, let Marlene know what you’d like and she’ll make it for you. Drinks are on the house. See you, Jimmy. Penelope?”

  Once more, I follow her obediently, thinking that in the grand scheme of things, it wouldn’t do much to complain about an exam I might have tanked—or the article. Jimmy’s words stay with me longer than I care to have them on my mind.

  Over dinner, I regard Carter who, aware of my scrutiny, gives me a speculative smile. Love is complex, a lot more than I ever imagined. It takes negotiation. It takes guts. Sometimes, you need to deal with uncomfortable truths, but it’s all in the bigger picture.

  It’s worth it. The devil is in the details, and I might struggle with some of them…I’ve never been more myself than I am with her, to the darkest depths of my soul.

  “It’s tempting,” she says. “Unfortunately I don’t have that long, but I do have a little surprise for you. Us. How did the exam go?”

  “All right, I think. I’m sorry for making it such a big deal.” The scene at the cafeteria comes to mind. Sugar mama. I’m sure Muriel told her about it already. Who cares what they think? “You mentioned a surprise?”

  “Yes. Something to try soon. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

  She hands me a small box containing—what? I have a moment of confusion looking at the small heart-shaped objects, two of them, connected by a thin cord. They look like something you’d use to tie your hair back, except they’re a little bit bigger, and…oh. The heat rushes to my face, and other places, producing a warm, pleasant twinge when I realize what they are.

  Soon.

  Carter chuckles at my reaction. “For a moment there, you weren’t sure what to do with it.”

  “Yeah, forgive me. I’ve never seen them heart-shaped.” Right, like I’ve ever seen them at all other than in an adult catalogue. I take a deep breath. “This is not fair, handing this to me when you know I’ll probably be asleep when you come home.”

  “I’ll make it up to you on the weekend, I promise. By then, we’ll hopefully get rid of our houseguest, Jimmy, I mean, and we have time to…experiment. You’d like that?” I regard the object once more, imagining…I’m so easy. I need to feel like I stand on my own two feet in the world. Here in privacy and in the bedroom, I crave the feeling I get from playing out our shared fantasies, because they complete each other.

  “Sure, yes. I’d like that.”

  “Good. I’m glad you were with me yesterday. It makes a big difference to have one person who’s all the way on you side.”

  “I am.” Proud of it, too. Moments like this, it all seems so much easier, almost possible to forget that Jimmy, Muriel and Colette are under our roof for a reason. Nothing is ever simple, but when it comes to what’s at the core, between us, it is. I need to remember that.

  I am tempted to try the beads by myself, my thoughts revolving around how Carter might want to introduce them into play. I think it wouldn’t be fair though when she has to work. Tomorrow night will be book club—including a new member named Muriel—and after that…the weekend, time to ourselves. I can’t wait.

  * * * *

  We read Fingersmith, and Lara wonders out loud why lesbian novels aren’t more popular. I’m not sure it’s the lesbian theme that contributed to its fame more than the historic context and the fact that these women are both somewhat evil… “It’s not a traditional novel either,” I say, “and you straight people have way too many choices to even start.”

  “It’s not like we don’t care,” Haley says. “I like something every now and t
hen that’s different from my life, that’s why I read those romances. It’s not like I want some guy to pay for everything and feel like he owns me. It doesn’t work like that in real life.”

  I’m not sure what to make of her words, but they sting anyway. Since Carter and I are back, she hasn’t said anything about the mortgage. She’s not going to let it go.

  No one has mentioned it, but I assume they have read about the awards ceremony.

  “That’s not the point.” Is it? Isn’t it the elephant in the room whenever I’m with my friends now? I try to do my part, invite them which they don’t always accept, try not to act like I’ve become a completely different person. They don’t entirely trust Carter, and that hurts, because I feel like I’m under suspicion by proxy.

  “Really? I thought that was what it was all about,” Haley argues. “You always found something wrong with those women because they caved too easily, gave away too much.”

  “I didn’t say there was something wrong with them, just that the guy was too cocky expecting they’d be happy to become a plaything…”

  “But it’s fantasy,” Lara interjects and Bridget who has followed the exchange with interest, nods.

  “It’s not fantasy when they try to buy off your friends,” Haley snaps and jumps to her feet. “I need a cigarette.”

  I stay seated, as baffled about her outburst as the others.

  “I saw a picture of you at the awards,” Lara says, trying to be helpful. “You looked amazing.”

  “Thanks. I think I should talk to Haley. Excuse me for a moment?”

  I have to tread carefully. Carter, knowing I mostly hang out with Haley and Lara, had made those huge gifts to both of them. Bridget and Renee would not be amused if they knew.

  I find Haley on the balcony, smoking her cigarette in quick angry movements.

  “I thought you quit.”

  “That was a while ago. I got stressed when my best friend was kidnapped. Makes you fall back into bad habits.”