Page 32 of The Dis-Graced
“God, how are you so good?”
My phone vibrates, and I look down to see an incoming call from Luke. Annabelle’s been a little sick, so I haven’t talked to him in days. I click connect.
Grace:Hello, dear brother.
Luke:Hey, Gracey. How you holdin’ up?
Grace:You never told me how boring the assignment would be.
Luke:Boring? I don’t know, ALAN’s always been a swell guy.
Grace:So, how’s my beautiful niece?
Luke:Ana’s better. Goddamn, I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since we brought her home.
Grace:And how’s Amanda?
Luke:Mad as hell. She wants to stay home a little longer with the baby, but her firm’s being a real dick.
Grace:Can she go off on her own?
Luke:That would take a lot of time, more time than she could give with a new baby. She’s already worried she’s going to get stuck with child custody cases or DUIs.
Grace:Ahhh, I’m sorry, Luke.
Luke:Anyway, I was just calling because I have a friend, and I wanted to see if you’d like to go out on a date with him.
Out on a date?
My stomach twists in knots, and for a moment, I’m not sure whether or not I’m just going to gag or if my whole stomach’s about to overturn. The thought of dating—of seeing another man after my face has been plastered all over the news, is inconceivable. It will take years before I could hope to find someone that doesn’t instantly recognize me as the woman caught in bed with a man twice her age.
And besides, I still haven’t gotten over Frank.
Grace:No!
Luke:He’s a great guy—
Grace:Stop it!
Luke:Gracey, this could be just what you need. It’ll be nice for you to get out again—
Grace:I’m not allowed out—Drake’s orders.
Luke:He’s already agreed to make an exception. In fact, it would be helpful if you were photographed out with someone. There’s nothing to worry about.
Grace:No—I’m not going.
I hit disconnect and throw my phone onto the counter. Hot tears well in my eyes, threatening to release. It’s silly that I try to hold them back when it’s only ALAN here, but for some reason, I don’t want him to see me cry.
It suddenly all becomes too much. My tarnished reputation. My broken engagement. The fact that I’m shoved in some arrogant asshole’s penthouse playing house with a glorified toaster oven.
I need some privacy. A little bit of peace, away from the probing, toddler-like questions that ALAN bombards me with all fucking day while I sit here, wasting away.
The tears come, and I’m helpless to hold them back. Great choking sobs that catch in my throat. I flee to my room, slamming the door behind me. For the briefest instant, I consider packing my bags and running away from it all. But where would I go? And what would become of me?
Instead, I crawl into bed, soaking in what little comfort I get from my elegant prison, and cry myself to sleep.
?
