Page 67 of Crazy Thing

I manage to fake a smile. “Everything’s great.” My attention returns to the woman who gave birth to me. “Good evening, Mother. We should do this all again next year.” I start to walk off. “On second thought, let’s make it a whole two years next time.”

As I stomp away, I’m shaking with anger. I’m reminded yet again that rich people really have no scruples. I hate them all. They’re all the same. Hiding behind their money and their fake personalities and their selfish intentions.

I feel a large, warm hand at the small of my back. Butinstead of providing comfort, this time, Darius’s touch makes my spine go ramrod stiff.

He is just the same. He’s just like my awful parents. Of course he is. I can’t trust him and I never will.

When it comes down to choosing money or doing the right thing, they’ll always choose money.Every. Single. Time.

The only reason I’m helping him with this whole waterfall thing now is because he’s the lesser of two evils.

At least I hope so.

28

DARIUS

Ziggy and I stick around for the dinner. But after I’ve made a ridiculously generous donation—in Robert Ross’s name—we don’t hang around the charity event any longer. It’s clear that Ziggy is tired, and since we’ve accomplished what we set out to do, I don’t see the need to stay for the full evening.

In the car, we’re both quiet. Ziggy’s been in a strange mood for most of the evening. I suspect it has something to do with that run-in she had with her mother and father.

She denied it when I asked, but I couldn’t help but notice Mrs. Beaumont staring disapprovingly at our table throughout dinner.

Her parents never gave out a warm and fuzzy vibe like my folks do. I find myself wondering just how much damage those assholes have done to their daughter.

I’m guessing, a lot.

Because Ziggy is the complete opposite of her parents. Most of the time, when I look at her, I forget that she’s even a Beaumont.

She is genuinely kind and thoughtful. She’s authentic.She brims with compassion. She stands by her values, even when it costs her dearly. She’d make unthinkable sacrifices for the sake of the people she loves. She’s good, and that goodness shines through effortlessly. It lights her up from within. All those qualities make her so endearing to me.

Our drive back to my house is quiet, aside from the hard rain that’s loudly pelting the roof of my car. Ziggy has plucked her flower crown off of her head and she’s mindlessly fiddling with it in her lap. It’s completely dark when I pull into my driveway.

Before shutting off the engine, I sit here watching Ziggy stare out the blurry window as I try to figure out what to say to her.

Not only did she singlehandedly hunt down the property owner who will help us save the waterfall, but she also somehow convinced him to schedule a meeting with me, even after I nearly fucked everything up. She keeps saving the day—again and again—and I don’t know the right way to thank her.

And the most important part? Even though I was eager to get away from the gala, I don’t want this night to be over. I want more time with her.

But before I can make my mouth say as much, Ziggy unsnaps her seatbelt. “Good night,” she says curtly as she opens the door and quickly climbs out of the car.

Fuck.

I jump out of the driver’s side and chase after her in the heavy rain. I’m instantly soaked all the way through my tuxedo jacket and even my dress shirt underneath.

I catch up to her halfway down the driveway. She’s already on the way to her bus. “Wait! You’re leaving?” I’m practically yelling over the pounding downpour.

Ziggy turns and wipes rain out of her eyes. Her once-curled hair is now a heavy, wet curtain around her shoulders. Her gown is now dripping, too. “Um, yes,” she yells back.

“Ziggy, it’s a freaking storm.” I throw my arms outward. “I’m not letting you leave here tonight. It’s dangerous!”

She rolls her eyes. “You do realize that I’m an adult, right?”

“An adult who’s going to run herself off the road in that giant bus and get herself killed if she drives down the mountain in this weather.”

The stubborn woman opens her mouth to protest, but just then, a bolt of lightning strikes close enough that it lights up the paleness of her face. She jumps, her eyes flashing with worry. But she immediately tries to shake it off.

“Ziggy, you’re not leaving here,” I declare, ready for an all-out war with this woman.

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