The Pull of Destiny (37 page)

“I live in East Harlem.”

Ever the trooper, dad
strove to salvage something from their conversation, which was steadily going
downhill. “Upper Yorkville? With the yuppies?”

“Um, no. I live in the
projects,” CiCi replied hesitantly.

Dad drummed his fingers on
the table, digesting this. Finally, he looked up at CiCi, and to my surprise,
he was smiling. “You’re joking, right?” he asked, almost pleading.

I snapped a bread stick in
half, wishing I could hit dad over the head with it. He would deserve it. What
the hell was wrong with him?

CiCi glanced at me out of
the corner of her eye then looked at dad again. “Uh, no, sir. I really do live
in the projects. The Robert F. Wagner houses, to be exact.”

CiCi said this with a
touch of pride that I respected. Even though she lived in the hood, it was home
to her and nobody could take that away from her. Not even my dad, even though
it was clear he wanted to try.

“Dad, just leave it
alone,” I groaned, glaring at him.

But a knowing smile spread
across the man’s face as he stabbed a finger in CiCi’s direction. “I get it!
It’s part of a humanitarian outreach program, right?” he exclaimed, sounding
pleased with himself for figuring out the puzzle. Identical expressions of
confusion flickered over Hope and CiCi’s faces as dad nodded in satisfaction.
“You give up your cushy existence in some Park Avenue penthouse to see how the
other half lives, right?”

My bread stick was now
little more than crumbs in my napkin as I listened to the ridiculous
conversation.

CiCi sounded baffled.
“What do you mean?”

“You and your family trade
places with a poor family to spend some time in their shoes while they live in
yours, right? Kind of like ‘Trading Spouses’, only this time you’re trading
houses and neighbourhoods.”

I didn’t know what was
weirder, the fact that dad actually watched Trading Spouses or the fact that he
was trying this hard to convince himself that CiCi didn’t come from money.

What was his problem?

A lot.

Shaking her head, CiCi
looked at me, totally confused. “I’m from a poor family, Mr. Astor,” she said
slowly. “I’ve lived in the hood all my life.”

Dad’s mouth made a little
‘o’ of surprise, which might have been funny under different circumstances, but
was not funny right now.

I braced myself as,
ignoring CiCi completely, he turned to me.

D-day.

“What the hell is this?”
he growled over Hope’s head.

I let out a breath. “Dad,
let’s not do this right now,” I said calmly, even though I felt anything but
calm. The man had issues and I wanted to punch him out. “It’s not a big deal.”

Yeah right.

“Not a big deal?” Dad let
out a bark of sarcastic laughter. “I gave you one simple directive- find a
suitable date for tonight.” He gestured at a wide-eyed CiCi, who was sitting so
still I wasn’t sure she was breathing. “You find a beautiful date that doesn’t
have two pennies to rub together! And you say it’s not a big deal?”

Snidely, I said, “It could
be coz I’m not a snob,” even though I should have kept my mouth shut.

Dad turned back to CiCi,
glaring at her. “How’d you get into Dalton?” he asked sternly.

Quietly, CiCi replied,
“I’m on Financial Aid.”

“Of course. I should have
guessed.” Dad looked disgusted. “What-.”

Hope stepped in to save
the day. Putting a hand on dad’s arm, she said, “Lucas, please. Not in front of
Faith.” Dad looked at Faith, who was staring with wide, scared eyes and
subsided. “Let’s try to have a nice, civil dinner.”

Thumping on the table, dad
muttered, “Where’s the damn waiter, I need a drink.”

Our food arrived and we
ate, Hope trying valiantly to keep the conversation flowing. CiCi joined in and
Faith had a ton of stories about her teddy bears and Barbie’s, but dad didn’t
say a word. He just shovelled down his food, refilling his wine glass every few
minutes. And I just pushed my food around my plate, my appetite gone.

I felt so humiliated and
embarrassed that I couldn’t even look in CiCi’s direction. Now that she knew
exactly what my dad was like, there was no way she would want to help me with
my list. Not that that was the most important thing. She wouldn’t want to hang
out with me either, which actually sucked, strangely enough. Or maybe not
strangely enough since I had gotten quite used to CiCi over the past few weeks.

When dinner was over, (and
not a moment too soon) and dad stood up to receive his award and give his
speech, I leaned over to CiCi to whisper, “Sorry,” in her ear. And somehow
managed to refrain from nibbling on it. There’s just something about ears and
CiCi’s looked made for nibbling. I pushed that disturbing thought out of my
head as she smiled at me.

“It’s okay,” she whispered
back but I shook my head adamantly.

“It’s not okay. He’s
messed up. And I messed up.” I sighed. “I should have warned you that he can be
a dick.”

CiCi patted my arm, her
touch making my skin tingle through my shirt. “Relax, Luke,” she said
cheerfully. I stared at her. She didn’t seem offended or unhappy. “I’m having
fun.”

Say what?

In disbelief, I asked,
“Really?”

“Aren’t you having fun?”

I shrugged. “I’m trying
to, but-.”

CiCi gave me a contented
look. “I guess it’s because this is the first major social event I’ve ever been
to,” she explained, tapping the side of her water glass with her hot pink
fingernail. God, they looked sexy. “So it’ll take more than a couple comments
to spoil my night.”

I bit my lip, smiling at
her. “You’re a sweetheart,” I whispered in her ear, sensing Wendy’s eyes on us
from her table.

In the back of my mind, I
wondered if she was just pretending that all the stuff my dad had said didn’t
faze her.

“Thanks,” she said in a
soft and rather sexy voice. Pursing her lips up, she suddenly looked very
kissable and I tried to push that thought away. How the hell could I focus on
anything when the thought of kissing her was in my head? And why was I thinking
of kissing her? “I get where your dad’s coming from, though.”

I raised my eyebrows in
surprise, glad to have something (anything!) take my mind off kissing her. “What
do you mean?”

She brushed a few strands
of hair from her eyes as I stared at her, feeling an urge to do it myself. I
almost groaned out loud. What was wrong with me, thinking about CiCi like that?
It’s all Joanna's fault. Insinuating that I wanted to ‘nail’ CiCi. I didn’t,
but apparently the idea was lodged in my mind for good. I couldn’t take my eyes
off her lips as she spoke. How come I never noticed that she had a slight gap
between her front teeth? Obviously something in the air was getting to me, or
something in my flat water. There was no other way to explain why I was
suddenly checking CiCi out.

Totally oblivious to my
scrutiny, CiCi said ,“I mean, you’re Luke Astor.”

“I know,” I sighed glumly,
tearing my eyes from her face to glance at my dad, who was still waxing lyrical
about himself.

CiCi blinked at me before
continuing. “What I mean is, you could have had your pick of New York City’s
elite, but you chose a poor girl like me.”

Snorting, I said, “Why
does everyone keep pointing that out?” in a quiet voice so that Hope and Faith
wouldn’t hear. I was getting sick and tired of hearing the same thing over and
over. “Sure, you’re poor, but I don’t care!”

“I know you don’t care,”
CiCi nodded, looking pleased. “And don’t get me wrong, I’m super glad that you
asked me. But just because you’re cool with me being poor doesn’t mean everyone
else is, you know?”

Running a hand through my
hair, I let out a breath. I knew what she meant, but I didn’t like the way
knowing what she meant made me feel.

“But since I’m the one who
asked you here, everybody else doesn’t matter,” I told her, suddenly feeling
possessive of her feelings.

She flushed prettily. “Now
you’re being the sweetheart.”

I grinned. “Don’t tell
anyone, though. It’ll ruin my reputation,” I joked.

Smiling, she said, “Done.”
Her smile faded as she stared at dad on the podium. “I guess what I’m trying to
say is that if I was your dad and my son pulled something like this, I wouldn’t
be too happy either.”

I couldn’t believe my
ears. Narrowing my eyes, I asked, “You’re defending him?”

“What?” CiCi looked at me,
a confused expression flitting across her face. “Well-.”

“Because you don’t have
to.” I shook my head. “I know he’s wrong.”

“I’m just saying his
reason for being mad is valid.”

“He just wants to bitch
about something,” I muttered, glaring at my water glass. “It’s not even about
you, he just wants to make me mad.”

“Why?”

I looked up to find CiCi
gazing at me, a troubled look on her pretty face.

Waving my hand in
dismissal, I replied, “Who knows? All I know is nothing he could say would make
me regret asking you to be my date.”

And I meant it.

“Thanks, Luke,” CiCi
breathed, a smile on her face.

I smiled back, patting her
knee and trying to ignore the thrill I got from touching her. Maybe my water
was spiked with some kind of aphrodisiac. That would explain everything. “Thank
you for understanding.”

Dad’s long, boring speech
ended finally and as he stepped down from the podium, the Master of Ceremonies
announced that the dance floor was open.

Award in hand, dad
sauntered back to our table, being stopped by well-wishers wanting to
congratulate him. Out of nowhere, a photographer appeared to take a group shot
of us.

“I hope this isn’t in the
news,” CiCi whispered to me as I wiped my patented ‘public’ smile off my face
as soon as the camera flash went off. “Nate would freak!”

“Did you tell him you were
coming?” I asked her curiously.

Probably not. Mr.
Overprotective probably didn’t know she was anywhere near this place, which was
a good thing. Because if he did know, he’d probably come deal with me.

Shaking her head, CiCi
said, “No, I didn’t tell him. I told my aunt. Nate- he wouldn’t have let me
come here.”

“He doesn’t let you go
out?”

“Not really.” CiCi cupped
her face in her hands, staring blankly into space as Hope stood up to talk to
some pervy old man who kept staring at her chest. “He only lets me go to
Shazia’s or Robyn’s places. He says he doesn’t want me to end up like- he wants
me to stay on the right path.”

“Hmm,” I murmured,
searching CiCi’s face as she looked around, trying to pretend that she didn’t
know that I wanted to make eye contact with her. I was pretty sure she’d been
about to say something else, but I decided not to push her. She was already
having a shitty night; I didn’t want to bring up more drama.

Right on cue, or so it
seemed, Faith pulled at the sleeve of my shirt. I looked down at her earnest
face. “Luke! You’re s’posed to ask Celsi to dance!” she hissed furtively.

Groaning playfully, I
said, “Is she my date or yours?”

“Luke!” Faith whined as I
smiled.

Of course I wanted to
dance with CiCi; I just didn’t want to seem too desperate!

I stood up, giving an
exaggerated bow in CiCi’s direction as she giggled. “Would you like to dance,
Madame?” I asked, extending my arm out to her. “And please don’t say no, or
else Faith’s gonna kill me.”

You see what I did there?
I put it all on Faith! Am I smart or what?

Hope looked on approvingly
as I asked CiCi to dance. I could tell she liked CiCi already. Then again, who
wouldn’t? There was just something about her that made her impossible not to
like, once you got to know her. Anyone would like her fresh faced approach to
life. Apart from my snob of a father, who had thankfully been abducted by some
friends.

“Of course,” CiCi smiled,
taking my hand and standing up.

Turning to Hope, I told
her, “We’ll be back soon.”

She winked at us. “Take
your time, kids. Have fun.”

Hope’s pervy friend leered
at us. “Don’t step on her feet, young man,” he croaked, while Faith stared at
us, glee written all over her face.

As luck would have it, we
had to pass dad on our way to the dance floor. I tried to get past without him
noticing but the man he was chit chatting to was too quick for me.

“Ah, young Astor!” he
boomed, making CiCi start nervously. Warily, I turned around, a fake smile on
my face. When your dad’s a multi-millionaire who gets his picture taken even
when he’s using the men’s room at Burger King, you have to have a fake smile.
“You look sharp.”