Page 129 of Powerless
And I love her.
37
Sloane
Mom:I’m sorry I can’t be there.
Sloane:I really don’t blame you. It won’t be a long meal. I can tell you that much.
Mom:You inspire me, Sloane.
Sloane:Inspire you?
Mom:To care less what anyone thinks. To put myself first. To be stronger.
Sloane:I don’t feel strong.
Mom:Oh, my darling. But you are. And I’ll never regret sending you that text, because that day you learned just how strong you can be.
From where I’m standing, I have the perfect view of Dad and Sterling sitting beside each other at a table by the window. They’ve got their heads together and smiles on their faces, like two little boys whispering in class.
Little boys.
That’s precisely what they are. After the last couple months spent in the presence of real men, I’m seeing the difference clearer than ever. It has nothing to do with money or education or a person’s public reputation. It has everything to do with what’s inside.
Soul. Heart. Actions speaking louder than words.
These two assholes can say whatever the hell they want. I’m not falling for it anymore. I see right through it.
For too long, I was a soft, demure little dove. And then they burned me. Scorched me.
Turns out I’m a dragon and I’m fed the fuck up with boys and their bullshit.
My shoulders roll back as I lean against the outside wall of Cartier across the street from The Frontier.
I’m a little hungover today. Winter and I hit it off. Turns out we have more in common than I ever imagined. She’s fun and totally down to drink too much cheap beer and lie on the floor with me.
I have her to thank for the power suit I’m wearing and also for the ride into the city. I also have her to look forward to as a neighbor in Chestnut Springs because once I’m done with this stupid fucking dinner, I’m heading straight back to that little house.
Where I belong. Where I feel like myself. I’ll figure the rest out as I go—for myself.
And there’s something freeing about having no rules. After a lifetime of having a path and plan laid out before me, I’m going to do . . . whatever the hell I want.
I roll my shoulders one more time, check both ways across the four lanes of traffic, and step onto the street.
Even jaywalking feels good.
I give the host a flat smile, holding one hand up. “No, thanks. I know where I’m going.” Without giving him a chance to answer, I march past, right toward the table by the window where two of the men I least want to see are seated.
I thought I’d be nervous, but I just feel . . . exhilarated.
“Dad, Sterling.”
Their heads snap up as though they’re surprised to see me. Usually, a staff member would guide me here, but that’s exactly what I didn’t want.
“Sloaney . . .” Sterling eyes me, head to toe. “You look very severe in that outfit.”
I almost laugh. After months of me ignoring him,that’swhat he has to say.
