really don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Elly shakes her head, making her short brown hair brush the outline of her jaw. “Fine, be your usual shit-don’t-bother-Blaire self, but if you want to talk about it or if you need a good cry—”
“I’m not going to. I’m wearing my favorite Chanel mascara, and I like it too much to waste it on him.”
She sighs. “Oh, girl, what am I going to do with you?”
“Nothing. Just love me like I love you.” I smile and grip her hand, squeezing it hard. “Thank you, Elly. I mean it. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
She squeezes my hand back. “Just know that I’m here for you, okay?”
I nod. “All right, get your cute ass behind the bar before I get you in trouble. I need to go talk to Carl about the computer at the hostess station. I think Carla messed up the program because some reservations won’t show up,” I say.
Later that night, when the restaurant is at its busiest, I smile at the couples waiting to be seated as I go over my conversation with Elly in my head. I don’t want to explain to her why I called Lawrence because it would mean having to admit that Walker actually hurt me. That he managed to get under my skin when I least expected it and, like the Trojan horse, showed me how vulnerable I still am by cracking the indestructible walls I thought I erected. He showed me that they were breakable.
If I’m honest with myself, I feel like shit, but I will make sure that never happens again. I’m Blaire White after all.
I don’t wallow.
I don’t cry.
I move on.
I forget.
I discard … or get discarded.
I’m a survivor.
I’m resilient.
I will always have the last say in what goes on in my life. I’ve gone through too much not to. And if that means maybe getting involved with someone who is actually willing to pay me to sleep with him at the expense of feelings, so be it.
I don’t care.
I’M LYING IN BED TRYING TO figure out what to do with my day. I don’t have anything going on until work later tonight, and staring at my white ceiling fan while I wonder if the blades could actually cut my head off is not what I consider healthy or fun .
I shake my head, dismissing the morbid thought, and stretch my body, yawning. Minutes pass in silence where the only sounds I can hear are my steady breathing and the noises coming from outside the window.
I grab my old copy of Persuasion —my favorite novel—and try to get lost in the love story of Captain Wentworth and his Anne Elliot. But today, not even Jane Austen’s witty narrative will do. I’m restless and I can’t focus.
Putting the book down on my nightstand table, I get out of bed and go to the bathroom to take a shower. I have to get moving so I can avoid thinking about what the hell I’m doing with my life and what is my purpose to exist other than sucking a rich man dry. It’s quite annoying because as easy as it is to lie to everyone, it’s close to impossible to lie to oneself since deep down we always know whether we are a failure or not.
And, oh, boy, don’t I know it.
I decide to spend my time shopping. Yep, that’s something that doesn’t require much thinking, and there’s no woe that a great outfit won’t solve. And if it doesn’t, at least I’ll look good.
After I settle on a cute chocolate-brown, bohemian babydoll dress with a very delicate flower pattern, and loafer ankle boots, I take a shower and finish getting ready. But as I apply my makeup, I think that maybe I shouldn’t go shopping since I need to make Walker’s money last until I find someone else. I guess one of the reasons why I’ve managed to stay debt free for this long is because I only splurge when I’m dating someone who will take care of the bill. I try to avoid tapping into my personal savings account.
But then I remember Lawrence …
After buying a short leather skirt and a silk cream blouse with black piping, I leave Barneys. I’m standing outside the department
Elly shakes her head, making her short brown hair brush the outline of her jaw. “Fine, be your usual shit-don’t-bother-Blaire self, but if you want to talk about it or if you need a good cry—”
“I’m not going to. I’m wearing my favorite Chanel mascara, and I like it too much to waste it on him.”
She sighs. “Oh, girl, what am I going to do with you?”
“Nothing. Just love me like I love you.” I smile and grip her hand, squeezing it hard. “Thank you, Elly. I mean it. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
She squeezes my hand back. “Just know that I’m here for you, okay?”
I nod. “All right, get your cute ass behind the bar before I get you in trouble. I need to go talk to Carl about the computer at the hostess station. I think Carla messed up the program because some reservations won’t show up,” I say.
Later that night, when the restaurant is at its busiest, I smile at the couples waiting to be seated as I go over my conversation with Elly in my head. I don’t want to explain to her why I called Lawrence because it would mean having to admit that Walker actually hurt me. That he managed to get under my skin when I least expected it and, like the Trojan horse, showed me how vulnerable I still am by cracking the indestructible walls I thought I erected. He showed me that they were breakable.
If I’m honest with myself, I feel like shit, but I will make sure that never happens again. I’m Blaire White after all.
I don’t wallow.
I don’t cry.
I move on.
I forget.
I discard … or get discarded.
I’m a survivor.
I’m resilient.
I will always have the last say in what goes on in my life. I’ve gone through too much not to. And if that means maybe getting involved with someone who is actually willing to pay me to sleep with him at the expense of feelings, so be it.
I don’t care.
I’M LYING IN BED TRYING TO figure out what to do with my day. I don’t have anything going on until work later tonight, and staring at my white ceiling fan while I wonder if the blades could actually cut my head off is not what I consider healthy or fun .
I shake my head, dismissing the morbid thought, and stretch my body, yawning. Minutes pass in silence where the only sounds I can hear are my steady breathing and the noises coming from outside the window.
I grab my old copy of Persuasion —my favorite novel—and try to get lost in the love story of Captain Wentworth and his Anne Elliot. But today, not even Jane Austen’s witty narrative will do. I’m restless and I can’t focus.
Putting the book down on my nightstand table, I get out of bed and go to the bathroom to take a shower. I have to get moving so I can avoid thinking about what the hell I’m doing with my life and what is my purpose to exist other than sucking a rich man dry. It’s quite annoying because as easy as it is to lie to everyone, it’s close to impossible to lie to oneself since deep down we always know whether we are a failure or not.
And, oh, boy, don’t I know it.
I decide to spend my time shopping. Yep, that’s something that doesn’t require much thinking, and there’s no woe that a great outfit won’t solve. And if it doesn’t, at least I’ll look good.
After I settle on a cute chocolate-brown, bohemian babydoll dress with a very delicate flower pattern, and loafer ankle boots, I take a shower and finish getting ready. But as I apply my makeup, I think that maybe I shouldn’t go shopping since I need to make Walker’s money last until I find someone else. I guess one of the reasons why I’ve managed to stay debt free for this long is because I only splurge when I’m dating someone who will take care of the bill. I try to avoid tapping into my personal savings account.
But then I remember Lawrence …
After buying a short leather skirt and a silk cream blouse with black piping, I leave Barneys. I’m standing outside the department
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