Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Sitting down to dinner, I am still waiting to be informed of why my presence has been requested. They summoned, I came; why can’t we get on with it? Why such a charade?
“How are you, Morgan?” my slightly balding father asks me, aiming for casual conversation.
“Fine, sir,” I answer, deciding to keep my answers short to try to get through this evening quicker. However, I must not forget to address them with manners. To fail to do so would end up in a lecture an hour long about how I should always respect my elders.
“We’ve asked you to come because your cousin, Sarah, is getting married in three weeks. Mallory and Madyson can’t attend, so you must go with us,” my mother informs me.
Unable to hide the shock on my face, I momentarily sit with my mouth wide open. My sisters choose this moment to enter the room without a greeting. Rather than wait for my brain to catch up and give a reply, my sister, Madyson, wades into the conversation.
“Seriously, why does Morgan need to go? You could go by yourselves, you know. For whatever reason, you won’t be seen with Mallory or me, but you’ll torture Morgan by making her sit through Sarah’s wedding. Warped. Y’all are completely warped.”
“We are family, a close family,” my mom annunciates each word. “Weddings are family events. Therefore, we are expected to arrive as a family. I can explain Madyson and Mallory have school commitments and are unable to attend, but we need you there to show we are a cohesive unit, Morgan.”
“Mallory and I are available to go, but you won’t let us,” Madyson continues her argument that it should be them, not me, attending.
Quite frankly, I don’t see why any of us need to go the wedding of a cousin we haven’t spoken to in years. However, my parents will never agree with that sentiment. It all boils down to the dog and pony show they demand I put on for our family. It is about appearances, after all. We couldn’t have the rest of the Powell clan thinking our little family unit was anything less than perfect.
“Look at you!” my dad snaps as he waves his hand at Madyson’s short denim skirt and tank top. “Half the time you prance around like a little whore. Not to mention you act as though you have no respect, whatsoever, for your elders. Your sister is a freak-show. She sulks around the house, listening to that god-awful screeching she calls music while putting more holes in her face. There is no way we are taking either of you to a family event.” His voice is condescending, though rife with authority, to let his middle daughter know this is the end of the conversation. His blunt, nasty summarization of both of my younger sisters is all he needs for both him, and our mother, to justify their heartless attitudes and ridiculous request of me.
“Where did we go wrong?” he snidely asks his wife.
“I don’t know… hmmm… maybe spending all your energy making sure Morgan was the perfect child while completely ignoring us,” Madyson quips.
“Madyson Leigh Powell, that’s enough of your disrespect! If you followed the rules and acted appropriately, you would be able to go with us. Instead, you’re always like a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off or doing something stupid like flashing your rear end in those scraps of fabric you call skirts to men twice your age. We can’t trust you to not make us look bad. We have three girls. At least one of you needs to be with us, and it needs to be Morgan,” my mother states, slamming her fork down to make it clear there will be no further discussion on the topic.
Madyson starts to chime in again when I put my hand up to stop her. She is fighting a losing battle. It is better for everyone involved if I simply go and get it done with.
“See, at least one of you is agreeable. Oh, and Morgan, you will need to bring a date. People are beginning to wonder if you have”—she leans in towards me—“deficiencies” —she leans back again—“since you never have a boyfriend. Sarah is younger than you; thus, we need to show everyone you will be the next one to get married.”
I only nod my head in agreement. Why must everything be about what people see or think?
Chapter
4
Ice
“Sandoval.”
“Ice, good to see you handling this trade personally. I have much respect for a man who stays so intimately involved in his business.” His heavy Cuban accent laces each word.
Lazaro Sandoval stands before me, a true ‘Don.’ The tailor made, gray pinstriped suit covers a pastel pink button down shirt that only further highlights his tan skin, his jet black hair gelled back to perfection. My six foot frame towers over the man, although his short stature does nothing to make his presence any less intimidating. No, this man is contained fury. His venom runs right below the surface, waiting for a reason to be released. He would be as deadly as they come, except I am deadlier. So is every man in my club. He simply hasn’t realized it yet.