Chapter 3
After dinner, Dylan's rowdy crew was all hyped to hit up a bar.
I couldn't really say no, so I ended up going along with them.
The music in the bar was deafening. Dylan had his arm draped around Kayla, the two of them holed up in the corner, so close that they looked like they might just melt into each other.
Meanwhile, I, his official girlfriend, was totally ignored.
Dylan's buddies were whispering and shooting me mocking looks, their eyes flicking over like I was the punchline to some inside joke.
"Hey, Kylie, here's to you," one of them called out. "Thanks for looking after Mr. Fletcher all these years."
One of the slick, pretty boys, seeing how little Dylan cared about me, swaggered over with his drink, his words so blatantly suggestive that it made my skin crawl.
I forced a sweet, innocent smile, but inside, I was cursing him as an idiot.
Then I gently tried to refuse, saying, "Mr. Hunter, I don't handle alcohol well. Maybe I should take it easy."
"Come on, what's the worst that could happen if you get drunk? Mr. Fletcher's got your back," one of them joked.
Another piped up, "What? Is Mr. Fletcher going to stop you from having a good time?"
But Dylan, who was mentioned, didn't even glance our way.
He was snuggled up with Kayla, the two of them whispering and laughing quietly, totally lost in each other.
It was his silent approval.
Maybe I was just a prop for Dylan, something he used to show Kayla she was the only one special to him.
With Dylan's silent approval, his buddies immediately closed in on me.
"Kylie, you really should know your place."
"Kayla's a legit pianist. She's won international awards. And you? Besides drinking and laughing along, what else can you do?"
"Oh, and she's great at burning through cash."
The room burst out in loud, mocking laughter.
For a moment, I just blanked out, stunned by it all.
She remembered what happened in the past and understood now.
I once tried playing piano in front of Dylan, hoping he'd notice me.
But he totally lost it and actually slapped me across the face.
He snarled at me, "If you ever touch a piano again, I'll make sure your hands get smashed."
After that, he trashed everything in the house that had anything to do with the piano. He even ripped the only sheet music I'd had since I was little to shreds and tossed it out.
Apparently, he thought me playing piano was some kind of insult to the girl he worshiped, his beloved Kayla.
They wouldn't let up, shoving drink after drink into my hands, crowding around me, pushing me to drink while picking me apart with their snarky comments and laughter.
My stomach was a mess, and my head was getting fuzzy.
Just then, Blake Hunter, the one who'd started all this, got handsy, wrapping his arm around my waist.
He pressed in close, his breath reeking of booze, his face so close to mine that it felt like he was about to kiss me. "Hey, Kylie, why don't you and I go somewhere else to have fun?"
I froze, instinctively trying to pull away, but he tightened his grip, refusing to let go.
Dylan, who'd been watching with that frosty look, finally stepped in.
He grabbed Blake's wrist and growled, "Back off."
Blake flinched, grumbling, "Come on, it was just a joke. Why so serious, Mr. Fletcher?"
Everyone burst out laughing, their voices full of innuendo and that knowing look.
Right on cue, Kayla tugged at Dylan's sleeve. "Dylan, don't let something so trivial kill the vibe. Mr. Hunter and Kylie are just a little tipsy."
Like I was the one throwing myself at Blake or something.
Sure enough, Dylan's face went even darker. He yanked me by the arm, his voice cold and impatient: "Home, now."
His grip on my wrist was so tight that it hurt, and my stomach burned like hell.
I told myself that I was just doing it for the money.
I kept repeating those words in my head, trying to keep myself together.
I would hang in there. Soon, I would be able to leave this place for good.