Cold Hard Cash: Los Angeles Bad Boys Read Free

nothing to say. I honestly don’t think he’s ever heard me; I have no reason to believe he will now.
    “If you have nothing more to say, Evangeline, I have a meeting in five. Can you see yourself out?” Dad walks over to where I’m standing and kisses my forehead like we’re not in the worst fight of our life. Like I’m a little doll he can keep on a shelf. “And don’t forget tomorrow, remember? You have a dinner date with Thomas Bracken. Now that is something that will be good for you. Get you out of the house with a safe, respectable young man.”
    I purse my lips. It’s unbelievable that I’ve been home for all of three days and already Dad thinks he knows what is best for me.
    “Listen,” he says, “I’m having drinks tonight with the manager of my newest talent. And if you want to get out and do something so badly, go get dinner at the club. Everyone there is vetted and respectable.” He raises a finger patronizingly, wagging it in my face. “Just no dinners with any of my clients. It’s even in the contract. Against my rules. Business and pleasure never mix. Besides, you’re way too good for them. Always have been. The perfect daughter, the perfect student.”
    I scowl. As if I’d ever date the guys he signs. The only half-decent one all year was Jack Harris, and the entire world knows he’s a married man.
    He leaves with a smug smile on his face, leaving me alone in his office. I think he actually believes he just parented me.
    I exhale, completely disappointed by this well planned—on my part—meeting that went absolutely nowhere.
    And did he seriously suggest I make some plans for tonight? Does he not know me at all? I don’t do nights out.
    I never have, but especially not now.
    Whatever meaning I used to draw from life now falls flat.
    I spent my life trying to make my mother proud, but she’s gone. I can’t help but wonder why I spent so many years sitting before a piano. Because she wanted me to? In the end, my musical talent wasn’t enough for her to choose life over death, so why should it be enough for me?
    My dad is a multi-millionaire and my mom devoted her life to me, her only child.
    Well, she also spent a fair share of her life on alcohol. She spent as much time in rehab as she did at the house.
    I’ll never need to work in my life, never need to wash my own clothes or grocery shop. I can hire people to do everything for me
    So, yeah, I get that it’s a privileged life, but it’s still my life. It’s the only one I get.
    There’s this poet I read in a Lit class—Mary Oliver—and she said, This is my one wild and precious life . That’s how I feel. Mom dying so suddenly put it all in such clear, precise focus.
    Dad wants me to stay in his box so I stay safe, so nothing happens to me—but the four walls he and Mom made for me are too small.
    I’ve spent forever tiptoeing, making sure my words were light and my smile sweet.
    But maybe I’m bigger than that.
    Maybe my life is too.
    I just don’t know how to make it happen, because I’ve always let my world be defined by the people around me.
    I don’t know how to define for myself, even if I want to.
    Pulling open the doors to Dad’s office, telling myself not to take it personally that Dad hired the interns who wander around yet he wouldn’t hire me, I step in the hallway with my heart on my sleeve.
    I step into the hallway knowing something needs to change. Now.
    By the time I press the button for the elevator, I feel as if my heart is crushed. As if I’m all alone. As if what I really want is for someone to reach out and offer me their hand, and be in this with me. For just a day, even.
    I’m not greedy. I’m just so lonely.
    In the elevator, I blink back tears. This can’t be my life. Dad dismissing me. Mom being dead. Me having no one else.
    I spent my childhood with private tutors and piano coaches, and I have nothing to show for any of it. I don’t even want to play music anymore.
    I just want to go back