Chapter 2

I heard that Loreine did not do well in prison. He messed with the wrong people and paid the price with his life. After everything he did to me I didn't hold a grudge against him, however Lucas had to pay too high a price in losing not only a mother but the ability to one day know her. 

"Well, I'm not gay, happy?" He was focused on you. Trying to be mother and father. Now that you've grown up, you don't give me much space in your life, do you? Someone must take care of me. 

He made a disgusted face, to spit out—: Too much information, dad! She covered her ears to emphasize his protest. 

"You called me gay." We are even. 

He wrinkled the corner of his lip, to turn the gesture into a smile. Then she gave a tired sigh as she looked out over the parking lot. She hoped that she would adjust to school. Lucas was at a difficult age. 

"Will you come back later or will Greg?" she asked when she turned her face to look at me. Greg was our driver. He wasn't always available to pick him up in the evenings. He often lost track of time.

"I'll come get you," I promised. It was the least she could do after all the months she was away from classes. 

Lucas nodded and, without bothering to answer, got out of the car. I watched my son leave, silently thanking Allyson again for giving my son hope. He could never repay everything he gave me by operating on him. 

• ────── ✾ ────── •

Tom gave me that dirty look that I screwed up. Yes, his wife was furious at how badly her friend spoke to her about me. 

"Don't look at me like that, Tom. You, and I clearly remember her, both emphasized that it was a fuck to make her feel better for her fucking husband. If anyone should feel used here, it's me.

That night I had to attend a charity dinner, an issue that bothered me not because of the purpose of the event but because of the fake people in it. Most had enough money to donate, but preferred to do it publicly, as if donating was something to brag about. 

"Brad?" My friend warned when he noticed that I began to feel reluctant to go to the event.

"Remind me one more time why I have to attend," I swore, not hiding the disgust in my voice and, for that matter, in my expression either. 

Tom sighed, shaking his head at me, listing the reasons, “First, it's important to the firm. Second, it's a charity dinner your family has been throwing for as long as I can remember. Third, you must set an example by being the senior partner in everything. He.” She circled her index finger on the last word. Fourth, it's for a good cause. You know that the battered women's foundation needs the funds for the workshops and professional attention. Fifth, there will be big shots that we need to eliminate… The competition, Brad.That bastard Jones...

-Ready. I already got it. I'm forced to go,” I murmured, accommodating the black bird. 

I hated that finery stuff, but he was right, it was important. I decided to invest some of the Dempsey family's money in a foundation for women who suffer from abuse, be it domestic or sexual. He had a lot of work and money. Money that even though I didn't need it, I couldn't leave it all in the foundation. I had payrolls to pay, bonuses, benefits, and many other things that also required money. So my mom offered to let me use her charity dinner that year to raise the funds. 

They are events where arriving driving your car looks vulgar. You must arrive in a limousine, show off your checkbook, and the trips you have taken during the year. Oh, also about how much money you've spent. 

That was my life: loneliness and money. 

When Dad talked to me about running the Dempsey empire, I figured I could leave people in charge and be what I liked: a lawyer. However, it was far from one. He was in charge, and as the one who gave the orders, I found myself on the go constantly, mired in paperwork, with little time and many enemies. So that was the perfect life for a forty-four-year-old: fraught with monotony.

I giggled as I got out of the limo and noticed a black-haired girl getting out of an electric blue Lamborghini. She might have been in her twenties, in an emerald green dress that made a good contrast to her extremely white skin. 

"Be careful with the bodywork, it's my baby," he asked the boy who had to park his car.

Surely he felt my gaze because he turned to see me. His car was behind the limo so he could clearly hear what he was saying, however, he had no way of telling the color of his eyes. Although that was not an impediment to interpret his curious look, which ended in a flirtatious smile. 

"Come on, Chelsea, it's getting late," a guy next to her muttered. He had glasses and was perhaps her age. The man's request was answered with a nod from what he assumed was Chelsea. 

"Brad, man, we should go in," Tom suggested when he finally got out of the limo. 

The black-haired girl turned her head to look at me, waving her hand in my direction as if she were greeting me, or maybe saying goodbye, I had no idea. That made me frown; the most likely thing was that she mistook me for someone else or perhaps her action was not with me. I watched her walk away from her, climbing the few steps to enter one of the most luxurious hotels in Louisiana.

—Hey, is your brother-in-law coming with your sister? 'Cause the guy's a kick in the balls,” Tom asked as we also walked up the steps. That way I forgot about the black-haired girl named Chelsea, focusing my attention on my friend's doubt. 

My brother-in-law Gerard was Allyson's brother. During all this time he had treated me with the whip of contempt because I ended up with his sister. Also because he never liked that I was too old to be with her. In addition to the fact that he was still married to Loreine although they had separated due to the fraud scandal. And, well, there was also the factor that I met Allyson because he was about to marry my sister Dona. In a nutshell: the brothers-in-law were attracted to each other and it sparked a relationship.

Gerard held a grudge against me for an affair that happened too many years ago.

"Yes, he will come. They are family things. Although most likely it won't take too long. He'll invent any excuse to leave," I replied in a low tone, looking to the sides to avoid prying ears. Tom sighed and then wrinkled his mouth, perhaps thinking the same thing as me: it would be an uncomfortable night.

Usually at those parties he used to socialize. However, since it was dinner and I just had to wait for the auction, I stayed at my table, anxious for the night to pass and hopefully go home for an early night. Maybe find my son awake and tell him that I loved him. 

The rest of those who sat at my table were milling about. Doing what I wasn't doing: enjoying. I wasn't good at pretending I liked being there. My mind was still on Allyson, that even though Lucas's operation was months ago, I hadn't gotten over seeing her again.

—Bradley Dempsey. Listening to his voice was like fingernails scratching a blackboard. But he wasn't in high school where she could ignore him or tell her to fuck off with his fake smile. He had to reciprocate the gesture and say hello. 

—Patrick Jones. It's nice to see you here. 

He knew it was also false. We were in the world of appearances. Everyone had to pretend that they didn't need anything, that they were incredibly happy. That they had reached the top, looking down on the rest. 

“My dear, this is Bradley Dempsey. Director in charge of Dempsey & Dempsey,” he warned in a mocking tone towards a woman. 

She was a green-eyed brunette, maybe in her late twenties. She looked uncomfortable, as if everything here was boring to her. She reached out to me and smiled politely. 

—Claire Davis.

I shook her hand, trying to remember if I'd seen her before, but I hadn't. She was definitely not Jones's regular escort. He was known to bring a prostitute to events, even if he was tacky. Although, it was the first time he had introduced me to one.

»Isn't he the competition? she asked looking at Jones. 

He smiled mischievously, nodding. 

-That's how it is. But you know, doll, keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. — Ella She continued with the giggle, carrying a bit of perversion. I felt sorry for the girl.

"Jones, Miss Davis," I said goodbye. He didn't need to put up with that disgusting fat man. We were the same age, but there were differences between us, like his hair was starting to look grayer and he had glasses; besides, he was sure that this man hated gyms or even tried to eat something healthy in his life. 

I walked up to my sister, who was almost in front of us. 

"I don't understand how they can put up with it," Doña murmured, referring to the exchange that took place. 

I frowned when Gerard instead of following his course to come to his wife, he spun on his heel, pretending he had to talk to Jones. Sometimes his immaturity irritated me. He didn't look like a married guy with a family, but a kid from elementary school. However, I thought that if someone hurt my sister, it was very likely that she would repay them with all my contempt. He just hoped that Gerard would one day put an end to his trauma. After more than twelve years, he still held a grudge against me about Allyson, to the point that he preferred to work for Jones after finishing law school and not at my Seattle firm. He didn't blame him, in the end, everyone looks for where he feels comfortable, but it was almost universal knowledge that the Jones signature was the worst; they bought prosecutors, judges, even jurors. Rumor had it that he had not very convenient dealings with people from the mafia. You add whatever you want to that list and rest assured Jones would be involved. My only consolation was that there were still good judges and prosecutors who did their job without having to be bought.