“Alright. Hey baby, Momma is on the phone. Wanna talk?” Vic’s tone changes from the callous mafioso he is, to sweet like pure sugar. This façade is what made me fall in love with him in the first place.
“Momma!” Kaia screeches loudly and a few seconds pass by. “Momma! I miss you.”
“I miss you, baby. Are you having fun with Daddy?”
“Mhm, he took me to the park today and tomorrow we go to the zoo! He said so!” If it weren’t for his foul nature, I’d be so happy for her, but here I stand, knowing I need to fake it.
“That’s great, sweetie. I’m glad you’re having so much fun.”
“Yeah, it’s the best!” And just like that, the line goes dead. Glancing up, I see I’m in the parking garage. Ah, right on time to lose signal.
With a huff I drop my phone back into my purse and dig out my keys, ready to make my break for it when the doors open. Yet again, I’ve made another deal with the devil. I only hope I can live with the price I’ve paid, and more than that, I hope Sasha will appreciate the sacrifice I’ve made for her health.
Chapter Three
Gemma
By the time I’m finish meal prepping for Clayton it’s around seven at night. I made him a mixture of marinated chicken and salmon, sweet potatoes, rice, and green vegetables. He’s a picky eater, yet loves consistency, so at least I have him covered here. An hour ago, Poppy gave me a call and asked if we could go out to dinner. It’s her first official day working at the gym, so I agreed. She probably wants to go out for a much needed drink. Can’t say I blame her, especially after Alice being brought up earlier. I’m still furious about that.
One day I’m sure I will come out to my family, but there hasn’t ever been a right time. In the back of my mind, I suppose I’m waiting for some sort of golden moment, when I know I’ve made them so extremely proud. This is why racing is so important to me, because the second I get in the car and start flying around the track I know my dad will be so proud of me. Regardless of my sexuality, I’ll be a Storm.
At least, that’s the hope.
Who knows? He could disown me right after I tell him. We did grow up in the backwoods of Louisiana, and our neighbors were all about hunting gators, praising Jesus, and drinking moonshine. To say I didn’t grow up in a very open-minded area is putting things lightly.
I finish sliding the meal prep containers in the fridge with their assigned Post-It Notes taped on their sides and shut the door. There’s nothing else to do here, so I go grab my jacket from the hook and slide it over my shoulders. It’s mid-January and lately it’s been in the mid-fifties because we’ve been having a cold front storming through. I’m a huge fan of the warmer months, so I’ll bundle up however I need to right now. Zipping my jacket up, I grab my purse and head for the door.
After I open it, I close it behind me and tap the lock button on the door. Clay’ has some sort of fancy schmancy lock. It can recognize fingerprints, retinas, and more. Feels like a Men in Black rip off to me, but whatever makes him happy.
Clayton has a penthouse that overlooks the lake, so he has to be a bit extra about certain things. I make my way down the hall and press the button for the elevator to come up. After a few moments the doors open and I walk inside. Instrumental music fills my ears as the elevator takes me down to the parking garage. Before I know it, I’m on my way to a small café called Justine’s. It’s one of my favorite places to eat in the entire city. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s like mixing life in Paris with the heart of the south.
I manage to get a parking spot a block away from Justine’s, so I walk to the restaurant to find Poppy already seated outside on the mustard colored booth. Across from her is a chair, so I pull it out and sit down. “You managed to get here early,” I mutter with a laugh.
“The early bird gets the worm. Isn’t that the saying? And in my case, I got the last glass of sauvignon blanc. Thank God.” She bugs her eyes out, giving me the first indication she’s had one hell of a day.
“Let me guess. Clay’ was micromanaging the hell out of you?” I might’ve experienced the same thing a time or two, which led to me not working at the gym for long. I’m still a partial owner, but I don’t make it a point to head over there every day. Lord knows I’d never be able to stand it.
“Does he think I’m an idiot? I mean, really? I have a degree in fitness management and have how many physical training certifications? I’ve done what I need to prove I know what the hell I’m doing, yet he wants me to start at the bottom like everyone else who’s ever worked at the gym? Fuck that. I mean, really? He has me sanitizing equipment, Gem’. No one else at the gym came in with this much schooling and I can guarantee it. All Dad, Clay’, and Brax’ have wanted to hire is ex-cons, minorities, and people who are desperate for a job. They never cared about training, degrees, or certifications. Not once, not until people were already working at the gym. I took initiative to get a start on my education and graduate with honors and . . . what . . . I’m still supposed to sanitize equipment all day? Screw that.” Poppy rolls her eyes and downs the rest of her wine.
“Did you forget that was the last glass they had?”
She shakes her head, “No, I took an Uber here, which means you can drive us back home.”
Rolling my eyes, I have no doubts I’ll agree to what she’s said. “Fine, but you have to be the sober one next time. Got it?”
“Yes, I got it.” Poppy sticks her tongue out at me before turning her body to grab the attention of the nearest waiter. She throws her hands up in the air and one comes dashing over.
“Is there something I can do for you, miss?”
“Yes, I need a double shot of vodka, stat.”
He smiles sweetly, “Of course. And for your friend here?”
“A Coke would be fine.”
“Certainly. I’ll be back with your drinks in a few minutes.”
“Thanks so much,” Poppy smirks at him, causing the man to smile a little brighter as he walks off.
Poppy and I have both been blessed with beauty, practically the spitting image of our mother. My hair is almost as white as snow and goes to about my shoulders. Though I often curl it and put a bit of product in to give it more volume, so it doesn’t quite touch my shoulders when all is said and done. Poppy on the other hand has honey blonde hair that flows down to her mid-back, with a dash of a caramel swirl through it. I remember our mom having hair like that when I was little. Poppy was about three months old when she died. Hell, I think the day of the race was the first time she left Poppy after she was born. Jesus, the world can have such cruelty.
Poppy throws her arm over the back of the booth and tilts her head, furrowing her brows as she stares me down. “What’s with you? You’re all quiet.”
I shut my eyes for a split second and sigh, “Nothing, really. I’m just not looking forward to flying out to Los Angeles tomorrow for this conference.” One of the best parts of being an owner of a gym is the requirement to go to conferences once or twice a year. It’s where we get to see the latest new equipment, techniques, and more. Of course, when I say it’s the best parts of being an owner, I’m lying through my teeth. I hate it. It’s agonizingly boring and I can’t stand it at all, being stuffed in the room with total strangers, especially when most of them try to use the conference to get a couple one-night stands out of it.