7
Kayla
I’m speechless. And it’s taking everything in my power not to run after Eddie and beg him to draw up new paperwork right here at the bar. My father left me money.
My father.
Left me money.
I’m so shocked and relieved I could squeal. I might, actually. No, that wouldn’t be cool. I will not squeal in a room filled with people who are already judging me because of my bra size.
I slide my eyes to the raven-haired girl beside me who hasn’t stopped throwing dirty looks my way since I sat down, especially since Daren started talking to me. She’s probably a casualty of Daren’s undoubtedly long trail of broken hearts. Poor thing. I kind of feel bad for her. Broken hearts are the worst.
And speaking of Daren… he sure as hell better be on board with getting cuffed to me because we are going to get that letter.
Eddie wriggles his way through the crowd and out the front door with his food. The moment the door closes behind him, Daren and I snap our eyes to each other.
“We’re doing this,” we say at the same time. Followed by a confused, “You want to do this?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He nods back with bright brown eyes. “Me too.”
I shrug. “It’s not like we’d have to stay handcuffed for very long.”
“Of course not,” he agrees. “We’ll let Eddie cuff us, grab the letter, then uncuff ourselves once we know where the money is.”
“Right. And then I’ll go get the money.”
“Whoa.” He holds up a hand. “You mean, we’ll go get the money.”
“No. I mean I’ll go get the money,” I say. “Why would we go get the money?”
“Uh, because Turner left half of it to me?”
I scoff. “Yeah, because he didn’t think I’d show up. But guess what?” I mock a gasp. “I showed up.”
“And we’re all honored by your presence, Your Majesty.” He smiles sharply. “But that doesn’t mean you get to swipe my half of the inheritance.”
“Swipe? You’re rich,” I spit out. “What do you need the money for?”
“I’m rich? You’re the one who’s been living off of Daddy’s dime for the past ten years.”
“What are you talking about?” I scrunch up my face in confusion. “I’m broke.”
He scoffs. “Sure you are.”
My eyes widen. “I am.”
He shrugs and spins the ice in his glass. “Well, that’s too bad because half of that money is mine.”
I purse my lips.
Greedy. Selfish. Spoiled. Rich boy. There’s no way I’m sharing the only thing my father left to me. No way.
I didn’t get to have him in my life for five long years, and as insane as it sounds, the fact that my crazy father designed some kind of weird letter hunt for me to go on makes me feel loved—or at least remembered. And I don’t feel like sharing my father’s last memory of me with some pretty-boy heartthrob who has nothing to do with my family.
And besides, if I want to get into nursing school I’m going to need tuition money. Lots of tuition money. This might be my only opportunity to make something better of my life. There’s not a chance in hell I’m going to hand over half of my future to Daren Ackwood.
Not that he needs to know that.
“Fine,” I sigh in feigned reluctance, rolling my eyes to really sell it. “We’ll split the money.”
He nods. “Damn straight we will.”
“Hi, Daren,” coos a female voice behind me.
I turn to see a blonde Barbie doll standing beside a brunette Victoria’s Secret model, both wearing revealing tops and seductive smiles.
“Hey, Lizzy. Tanya.” Daren flashes them his dimple. “You two look lovely tonight.”
They giggle. They actually giggle. Grown women shouldn’t giggle.
But he’s right. They do look lovely, tight shirts and all. They’re very attractive and from the way they’re sizing him up I’m guessing they know Daren intimately.
“This is my friend, Kayla,” he says, gesturing to me. “Kayla, meet Lizzy and Tanya.”
I nod at them with a tentative smile. “Hello.”
They look me up and down. Then flash me fake smiles and even more fraudulent greetings.
“Love the shoes,” the Barbie says. I think she’s the one named Lizzy. She nods at my old sneakers with an air of satisfaction.
The other one—Tanya—says, “Nice… shirt.” She glances at my chest where I’m sure she’s doing girl math to see which of us has greater boob mass.
It takes all the self-control I have not to tuck my feet farther under the bar or cross my arms over my chest. There’s nothing wrong with my shoes. They’re old and ripped up a bit, but it’s not like they’re clown shoes with neon patches on them. And my shirt is completely normal. But still I feel an itch of insecurity start somewhere deep inside me and I want to slap myself for letting it exist.
They’re clearly trying to impress Daren with their false niceness. But from the look of disapproval on his face, he isn’t fooled at all.
I don’t have a lot. But I’m not ashamed of what I do have. And these two bullies are only picking on me in their passive-aggressive ways because they’re threatened by me. If I wasn’t so used to girls treating me this way, I might say something snotty in return. But instead, I smile as pleasantly as possible and remind myself that they are human beings with feelings.