Page 85 of The True Garza
“The sad part is,” Guy casually comments, typing away on his laptop, “people really believe thatTrent’sthe asshole and you’re the nice guy.” He makes a dramatic sound, because he could never help being a low-key dick. “Oh, the truths that rest on my shoulders.”
“Lexi would’ve been able to tell right away.”
“Lexi grew up with you guys, London didn’t,” he says. “EvenIget momentarily fooled every time you walk into a meeting as Trent. It would always take me a bit to catch on. Don’t underestimate your acting skills.”
She should be able to tell.
“Do you want me to just go ahead and take care of the forms with HR for both of you?” he asks. “Because whatever’s going on between you two is clearly not a one-night stand.”
I slide him a side glance. “How would you know?”
Again, the fucker sighs. “Yeah, I’ll just go ahead and handle those forms.”
CHAPTER Twenty-Two
“Do you not know what fuck off means?”
Lonny
I hear her laughter evenbefore I enter the house. I used to love that sound. Once upon a time, that laugh was a sound of comfort for me. Now, it’s the sound that brings me unease, the sound that evokes both sadness and ire within me.
My fingers tighten around the straps of my work bag as I walk into the house.
They’re having dinner, she and Brook. As always, her smile is worry-free, her eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth, not age. Long, naturally white hair falls in waves all around her shoulders. Happiness, contentment, and the absence of a conscience and remorse have her aging backward. She’s the type to go after whatever she wants, no matter who gets hurt in the process. And she never, ever compromises on contentment, even if it’s at the expense of others’ misery. I used to admire her tough and unyielding spirit.
Until she wielded it at her own family.
“Lonny,” Brook says around a full mouth when she sees me. She winces in apology. “I didn’t—I thought you were working a double shift….”
“Yeah, that was the plan, but my colleague showed up. Don’t mind me, though.”
Mom starts to stand, her chair screeching on the floor. “London, we should—”
“Don’t,” I cut her off, unable to even look at her. “I’m in for the night, Brook.”
“Okay. Oh, some packages came for you today. They’re in your room.”
Packages? “Cool. Thanks.”
Without a backward glance, I head straight to my room and close the door, turning the lock for good measure. Unlike me, Brook has a healthy mother-daughter relationship with Mom. They have dinner together at least once a week. Brook knows my feelings toward Mom are resolute, though, so she usually lets me know in advance when she’ll be at the house, and I’ll keep my distance.
There was no warning this time, so seeing her shameless face has unexpectedly offset my mood. And I’ve hadsucha positive day.
Two large, lavender-colored boxes sit on the floor next to the door. It’s been a while since I’ve even ordered anything, so I can’t imagine what these are.
I drop my work bag and get out my switchblade, then stoop down and slit the tape on the boxes. Inside the first box are several packages with different brand names on them. As I open the packages one by one, I realize they’re all… dresses. All perfectly my size.
It’s a message.
No jeans.
The second box contains a boatload of intimates along with several pairs of flat sandals.
I’ve not seen or heard from that philanderer in over a week, and instead of giving me a simple “Hey, how ya doing?” call, this is what he does?
Thatshithead. Who does he think he is, trying to control how I dress? I don’t wear sandals.
I get out my phone and snap a picture of the unloaded boxes, then type out a quick message.
