Unclaimed (15 page)

“I didn’t say that.  Some people are meant to be doctors, other teachers, and so on.  Different people have different niches,” I tried to explain as I ran my fingers through my hair.  I felt Pru’s hand creep up onto my thigh and give a little squeeze.  I reached down and put my hand on hers.  I needed the reassurance as much as she did.

“And
what’s your niche Mr. O’Neil?  Bartending?  Motorcycle repair?  Or perhaps you are a teacher?” Her father was a condescending little ass.  I was going to kill him.  There was nothing wrong with any of those careers.  We all couldn’t be Fortune 500 billionaires.

“No, I’m a t
attoo artist,” I informed him.  I was not ashamed of my choice in careers but I knew it wouldn’t meet their approval.

“He does beautiful work,” Pru piped in.

Her father just smiled and nodded like he was humoring a child.  I wanted to slap him.  Not because he was belittling me but because of the way he was treating her.

“And how much does one make as a tattoo artist?” her mother asked as she eyed her now empty drink
.  Her mother had been silent for the entire exchange.  The most she had done was attempt to wink at me a few times which looked more like a spastic eye twitch.  I think she was flirting with me despite her disapproval of my relationship with her daughter.  Gross.

“
I make descent money,” I said.  I was not about to share my W2 with these people.  I ran both hands through my hair this time.  I knew that no matter how much money I made I’d never be good enough.  I saw that now.  I was not what they envisioned for their daughter.  They wanted to control her, plan her life for her.  I got in the way of that.

I was not good enough for her. 
I knew that, had for some time, and they knew it.  The only person that seemed to be in the dark about it was Pru.

“Enough to give Pru all she needs and wants in life?” her mother asked.

Probably not but I make her happy.  Isn’t that what mattered?  I’d never be able to buy her BMWs, or mountains of diamonds, or get her a country club membership but that never seemed to bother her.

“Mother,” Pru gasped. 
Her fake smile disappeared and she paled.  I had never seen her do that before.  That couldn’t be good.  I didn’t like this.

Her mother just shrugged and smiled up at the waiter when he brought her another drink.

“You know Alan Wayne just finished law school and he got a job with a wonderful practice,” she informed her daughter not even trying to defend her previous rudeness.

“I’m happy for him.”

“Now, Alan Wayne, he could provide for you.  Give you all things you wanted with a salary like he has,” her father said, “Six figures.”  He smiled over at his daughter before he turned to glare at me.  He was putting me in my place, letting me know I wasn’t good enough for Pru.  She had options.  I had always known that but I didn’t like it being flaunted in my face.

“Excuse me?” I said. 
I could take a lot from them for Pru’s sake but trying to pimp my own girl out in front of me was beyond my control.  Her parents ignored me.  Pru squeezed my leg again.  She knew my temper was flaring.  So much for being the calm, rational one.  Her rock.

“I
’m not interested in Alan Wayne.  I’m more than happy being with Lincoln,” she said, perfectly calm but I could see the spark in her eyes.  Her temper was rising too.  I ran my fingers through my hair again.  By the end of this night I was probably going to have more hair gel on my hands then in my actual hair.

“I asked him to take you to the Fourth of July barbeque,” her mother informed her
like she hadn’t said anything.  Was this how Pru’s life had been?  Did her parents always just ignore her and talk right over her.

“Hmmm,” was her response
again.

Hmmm? 
Hmmm?  I’ll be damned if she was going to some Fourth of July barbeque with this Alan Wayne character.  If she wanted to go to the barbeque I’d take her.

The topic was dropped at least for the moment.

“So where do you come from Mr. O’Neil?” her father asked turning the conversation back to me as our dinners were placed in front of us.  I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad one but I was glad her mother was now occupied with a fresh drink.

“Roseville.”

“What do your parents do?” he asked.

“My mother has her own flower shop.”

“How quaint,” her mother chimed in but her look said she didn’t mean that as a good thing.

“And your father?” he asked. 
Pru squeezed my leg again.

“I don’t know.  I never met my father.” 
I lied, well, not a complete lie.  I was not about to tell these horrible people that my father was Russell Kole.  I’m sure they’d just love that.

“How unfortunate,” her father said then looked over at Pru and raised an eyebrow, like she had to be joking.

“So which would you prefer Harvard or Stanford?” her father asked turning the conversation again.  He changed the topic so frequently it made my head spin.  At least my faults were no longer the topic of conversation.

Throughout the dinner she remained perfectly polite
and calm despite her parents.  The only sign of any tension in her body was the constant death grip on my leg.  By the time we were done I was sure I was going to have a hand size bruise on my thigh.

And th
e conversation went on and on.  They told her she was going to med school, or would tell her who she should be dating, or talk about people I didn’t know.  Her parents told her of events over the summer and she continued to make non-committal noises.  I noticed she never agreed to their plans for her but she didn’t reject them either.  She just hmmmed.  They seemed satisfied with that and would move on.  I was starting to hate that noise.

I wanted her to tell them she wasn’t going to date Alan Wayne or go to medical school, to stand
up for herself, but she didn’t. Not once did they show any real interest in her life with the exception of telling her what to do with it.

A
ll the while her parents found ways to remind me that I wasn’t worthy of her.  I didn’t make enough money.  How did I ever plan to get a real job with all those tattoos and piercings?  How long did a tattoo artist’s career actually last?  What was I planning to do after with my lack of education?  And it went on and on.  It was no wonder that Pru dreaded these dinners.  Why she was on the edge of a panic attack when we came in and had looked like a scared puppy ready to bolt.

Now I felt like a lion in
a cage, trapped but dying to be free.  Internally I was pacing.  I tugged on my already loose collar more than once and I swear I ran my fingers though my hair every time someone opened their mouth.

She had grown
up with these horrible people.  She had to deal with this for years and I was barely making it through one dinner.  It was amazing Pru turned out half as wonderful as she did.  These people could beat a person down.  Shoot, I felt like bloody pulp.

I hated that she had to deal with them but I saw the points they were tryi
ng to make for the both of us.  I was not good enough for her.  She spoke multiple languages, was selfless, and caring, soon to be a college grad.  Pru was used to a life of luxury.  She was raised with everything that she had ever wanted, every privilege possible.  She had never actually gone without anything.  And here I was bastard son of a rock star and a struggling tattoo artist/shop owner.  How was I ever going to compete with it?

Prudence

Dinner had been awful.  Worse than I had expected it to be.  My parents were in full form, doing what they did best: steam rolling over everyone else.

In a matter of two hours they had criticized everything about Lincoln: his family, his career, profession, clothing, pier
cings, tattoos, finances, car.  It just never seemed to end.  I was impressed that he hadn’t jumped across the table and attacked them or just stormed out.  I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had.  I’d probably follow him out.

Li
ncoln was miserable so was I.  I could see them wearing on him.  I hoped he didn’t let them get to him.  I thought I warned him that this was going to be bad but apparently not as much as I should have.

I considered not bringing him, saving him this torture, but I didn’t want him
to think I was ashamed of him.  I wasn’t.  I also wanted my parents to see how wonderful he was, how he made me happy.  Maybe they’d come to accept him if they saw I loved him, that he made me happy.  At least I hoped they would but they weren’t even giving him a chance.

The entire dinner had been a disaster, a mistake.

They’d invited him and I passed the invitation on hoping that they’d play nice, that they actually wanted to get to know the man in my life.  Oh I was so wrong.

I had met his mother a few weeks ago and she had been nothing but warm and welcoming to me and
my parents were anything but.  They were the exact opposite.

When they weren’t belittling Lincoln, and I could see that it was taking its toll on him,
they were telling me what do.  Making all kinds of plans for me, none of which they asked me about or included Lincoln.  I would go onto med school, become a doctor, move back home, date Alan Wayne, and so on and so on.

I hate
d conflict, always have.  I did what I always did to avoid any sort of confrontation with them.  I learned young that it was just easier to pretend to go along with it than actually fight them because I never won.  I didn’t agree or disagree with them and I just acknowledged that they had spoken.  I would say something was nice or interesting.  When they told me I was moving home I just smiled and said, “I hadn’t thought of that.”  It was the truth.  I hadn’t but it wasn’t happening.

I wasn’t committing to anything either way even though I knew that there was no chance
I was going to be moving home.  I’d live on the streets first but they seemed happy with my response and they’d never bring it up again.  It wasn’t like they actually ever spoke to me.  I mean I had managed to finish college with a teaching degree and they had no idea.

I just hoped that when this dinner ended Lincoln and I were able to walk away from this like it never happened and my parents would stay as far away from my life as possible.

Chapter 13

Prudence

The ride home was silent.  Lincoln offered to drive so I let him.  He was stiff and cold.  Dinner with my heartless parents could do that to a person.  It always left me feeling lacking and I could see it had done the same to him.  I never should have brought him.

I knew that this
evening had been hard on him.  I was just hoping that it wasn’t going to cost me him.  He told me he loved me for the first time only hours ago and now I was worried that my parents had destroyed us.  They had a way of doing that.  They found every possible way to point out that Lincoln wasn’t good enough for me although they never directly said it.  I just hoped he knew what they wanted in my life and what I wanted out of life were two very different things.  He knew that right?  Lincoln knew me.  He loved me.

We finally got to his house and he p
ulled right into the driveway.  The drive had been the longest we had gone without joking or talking ever.  He didn’t even try to touch me and that bothered me.  He just kept taking deep breaths and running his fingers through his hair.  That made me nervous.

I didn’t know whether he wanted me to come
in or not.  I had planned to stay the night but now I wondered if I was even welcome.  Should I leave?  Should I just follow him in?

He got out and so did I. 
I had to at least move to the driver’s seat but as soon as I shut the door he clicked the lock button on my keys to the car and grabbed my hand and headed for the door.  That answered that question.

My heart soared.  He was touching me.  He wanted me to stay.  All was not lost.  Lincoln still loved me. 
Lincoln still wanted me, despite my despicable parents.  I wanted to leap into his arms and smother him with kisses.

We headed straight up to hi
s room through the dark house.  He un-tucked his shirt while we walked with his free hand.  He shut the door behind us and dropped down on his bed.  His head fell into his hands.

“What the hell was that?” he asked with his he
ad still resting on his hands.  I was still standing in the middle of his room.  He made no move to grab me or pull me to the bed, which was unusual.

“That was my parents,” I laughed coldly.

“Why don’t you ever stop them?  You just let them run all over you.  You never tell them no.”  His head shot up and the look in his grey eyes scared me a little.  He was angry with me.

I just shrugged.  “They’re my parents. 
They think they know what’s best for me.”

“You’re twenty-one,” he ran his hands through his hair f
or the hundredth time tonight.  He was frustrated.

“I know,” I snapped.

“So are you going to become a doctor?” he snapped.

“What?  No?” 
He knew I had no intentions of running off to medical school.  Didn’t he?

“Are you gonna let them cart you off to some Ivy League school becaus
e they sure seem to think so.”  He ran his hand through his hair again and looked past me at something behind me.

“No. 
I didn’t tell them I would go.”  I didn’t like this conversation.  Lincoln and I didn’t fight but we were now.  My parents did this.

“No but y
ou didn’t tell them no either.  Damn it Pru,” he stood up and tossed my keys onto the bed harder than necessary and started to walk away from me.  “You just let them walk all over you.  You going to the Fourth of July barbeque with that Wayne guy?” he yelled from across the room when he turned to face me so he could pace back.  I took a step back in surprise.  Lincoln never yelled at me.  Never.

“
No.  I probably won’t hear from them again for months.”  I was yelling back now.  For the first time in my life I wasn’t going to just roll over and take it.  Our relationship wasn’t like that.  I had never been compliant or tried to placate him. I wasn’t going to start now.

“Then just tell them no.  Tell them to fuck off.  You want to be a teacher.” 
He stomped towards me.

“
It’s just easier to ignore it.  I suffer through one dinner or holiday and then we live our separate lives.  The more I fight them the more they push.”  He was standing directly in front of me now and I refused to back down.

“A life that they are trying to control,” he pointed out.

“Lincoln,” I groaned out and let my head fall so I was no longer staring up and him but at the floor.

“They’re right you know.”

“Excuse me?”  I looked back up at him.

“I will never be a doctor or a lawyer or be able to buy a mansion or all the wonde
rful things that you deserve.”  Oh no.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m poor,” he said as he flung his arms out motioning to his surrounding like it proved his point as he stepped away from me.

“You are not poor.”

He just rolled his eyes at me and dropped back onto his bed next to my keys.

“If I wanted Alan Wayne th
en I would be with Alan Wayne.  That’s not what I want.  He’s not who I want,” I put my hand over my heart, “I don’t love him.  I love you.”  I could feel the tears building in my eyes.  I can’t believe my parents had done this to us.  I hated them.  I couldn’t believe that Lincoln would let them do this to us.

“But love doesn’t pay the
bills.”  He laughed coldly.  I’d never heard that sound from him.  I didn’t like it.  It made my chest hurt.

“Oh my God,
Lincoln you are not a pauper.  We will be fine.”  I threw my arms out dramatically like he had to emphasis my point.  The panic inside me was growing.

“I think you should go,” he said after a few minutes of quiet while
we just stared at each other.  His voice was quiet now, even.  That was scarier than the emotion he had been showing only moments ago.

“Excuse me,” I snapped and stepped
back from him.  He was kicking me out.

“Your parents are right.  I don’t deserve you.  You’re too good for me.” 
He didn’t break eye contact when he said it and broke my heart.  The cold truth was there in his eyes.  He truly believed what he was saying.

“Are you b
reaking up with me?” I gasped.  Nooo.  This was not happening.

He just nodded and ran his fingers through his hair again.

“I don’t believe you.”  My voice was quiet now, broken.  He loved me.  He said he loved me.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

He was serious.  I took a few steps back and felt the air hitch in my chest.  My chest was tight as the tears started to fall from my eyes.  I was hurt.  I was mad.

“You’re right Lincoln. 
You don’t deserve me, not because you’re not a millionaire, but because you’re an ass.  Less than twenty-four hours ago you told me you loved me.”  Tears were streaming down my face now.  There was no stopping them.  My heart was breaking.  He ripped it out of my chest and was stomping all over it.

I stepped towards Lincoln and snatched my keys off the bed before
I turned to head for the door.  I had to get out of here, away from him before I completely fell apart.

Lincoln had his face buried in his hands, rubbing them over his face and through his hair repe
atedly.  He looked down at his feet refusing to watch me leave.

“You know what Lincoln,” I said
as I opened his bedroom door.  I didn’t turn to look back at him.  I was afraid that if I did I would beg him not to do this or see that he wasn’t dying inside like I was.  “How dare you judge me and my family issues when you can’t even face your own.”  With that I stepped out of his room and slammed the door behind me and fled to the safety of my car.

My
parents ruined everything.  They had set out to ruin the best thing I had going in my life, Lincoln, and he let them.

Lincoln

What did I just do?