Very Bad Things (Briarcrest Academy #1)(29)

She eventually followed, grabbing her dress up and saying bye to the others still in the pool.

I unlocked and opened the double doors, my mind already thinking of calling Tiffany. What I felt for her was predictable and straight forward. No wacked out emotions there.

Before Nora walked out the door, she turned to me and said, “So, did you decide if you like me or not?”





Chapter 9


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Nora

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“Bad decisions can make some damn good memories.” –Nora Blakely

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Even a few days after the pool, I still couldn’t get Leo out of my head. I found myself glancing out the window several times a day for a glimpse of him. I kept remembering him whispering his happy stories to me as we lay together, about him choosing Teddy for his band because he liked imperfect people.

At the swim party, he’d been aloof and avoided being near me. At least he’d decided to let me help Teddy, which I was looking forward to.

Staying with Aunt Portia while Mother worked in the city seemed to perk me up as the days passed. During the day, I hung out at the shop and helped her bake and wait on customers. During the slow hours, I studied the paperwork for Princeton and shopped for school clothes with Mila. At night while Aunt Portia slept, I drank myself to sleep, chasing oblivion.

On Monday, I received a text from Lina, my mother’s personal assistant, reminding me of my monthly lunch date with Mother. So the next day, I drove to Ricardo’s, a fancy Italian restaurant only a short walk from Mother’s downtown Dallas office. I’d been meeting her there for the past two years on the last Tuesday of every month. If it was summer and school was out, we met for lunch. If it was during the school year and I didn’t have too much homework, we met for dinner. On rare occasions Dad would come, but it was hard since his office was on the other side of town.

I pulled up to valet parking and quickly checked myself in the mirror. Lipstick not too bright . . . check. Blonde hair in a French twist . . . check. Elegant dress . . . check.

One of the parking attendants opened my door and greeted me with a broad smile. “Miss Blakely, looking lovely today,” he said in rolling Italian lilt, offering me his hand. “Your mother is inside waiting.”

I took his hand and climbed out. “Geno, good to see you. How’s your little girl? Sophia, right?” I asked. “Didn’t you tell me she was crawling last time I was here?”

He chuckled, escorting me to the double glass doors. “Ah, the little bambina is fine, very good. Goes everywhere,” he said, waving his arms around. He dug in the front pocket of his maroon uniform and pulled out a small picture. “See, she is getting big.”

“Oh, she’s such a cutie!” I said, gazing down at the smiling little baby that had tons of glossy black curls. She had a mischievous smile, and I could even see a little tooth poking through on the bottom of her gums. I looked back at Geno’s proud face inquisitively, my eyes searching for what happy looked like, felt like. I gave the photo back, and he smiled shyly and bowed, leaving me at the hostess stand.

“Miss Blakely, please follow me,” said the young girl at the podium.

I followed her into the black-and-silver themed dining area. Yeah, this place was swanky, but I loved it, mostly because it wasn’t a quiet place like most ritzy restaurants. No, at Ricardo’s not only could you hear the pots and pans clanging in the back and the loud Italian’s yelling at each other, but it smelled divine, like warm bread and garlic butter. Sure, I’d much rather be kicking it at Aunt Portia’s, helping her ice some cupcakes, but eating at Ricardo’s was a heavenly experience if Mother was in a good mood. Which I doubted she would be.

She was sitting at a round table by the window, gazing down at the menu, and with the combination of the sun warming her light brown hair and her cream suit, she looked almost angelic. She glanced up as we approached, and I automatically focused on holding my shoulders up and back, gliding over to my seat, despising myself for trying to please her.

The white-gloved waiter pulled out my chair for me, and I sat as fluidly as I could, thinking of myself as a flowing waterfall. If there’d been any posture judges in the place, I would have gotten a ten out of ten.

She’d already ordered me the usual glass of ice water and lime. I took a sip and waited.

She sat her menu down and arched her brow. “You’re ten minutes late which means we’ll have to rush this, Nora.”

I sighed. “Sorry, Mother.”

“I already ordered for you, of course. Chicken Caesar salad, dressing on the side,” she said.

I swallowed, thinking about lasagna, spaghetti bolognaise, and fried eggplant. Well, at least the salad came with parmesan cheese. “Sounds wonderful.”

She smiled. “So, how was your time at Portia’s?”

“Perfectly boring,” I replied, staring her straight in the face. Eye contact is a must when telling a lie.

She nodded. “Good. But, when school starts, you’ll have to stay at the house with Mona. Can’t have you slacking on homework and piano.”

“Of course,” I said as the waiter came and sat down our naked salads.

I looked down at my plate and then back at her. “Style of eating?”