Trying To Endure

Chapter Fifty-Eight

SONG: The Neighbourhood - Daddy Issues (slowed)

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April Levesque

The fact that Derek chose to watch remote films to bypass the time in his rehabilitation experience and out of compulsion is so exceedingly charming and reanimating. No wonder Derek is smart — he is interested in learning new things.

Alone in our booth, Derek's Security are positioned at all corners, drinking mocktails, secreted in the shadows, visible as the exotic lights undulate, chatting to their colleagues. 

Waiting for ten minutes it seems, I search for Derek. Where is he? He's not at the mocktails, not at the tables of mouth-watering food. I want to inquire his Security, but they seem flustered and preoccupied. The rest of the booths are not lucky. It would be hard to hunt for his figure — attire camouflaging in unity of the nightclub's murkiness.

I thought he was going to kiss me.

A part of me craved it.

A part of me wished I kissed him first.

In that moment on the dance floor, surrounded by bodies albeit so thoroughly isolated from the doings of the world, sensations birthed within my soul. Sentiments I never experienced for Roy Heston. It left me incredibly conflicted and confused.

I don't think he comprehended how damn handsome he is in that velvety, black shirt — as black as his ebony hair —, tucked into trousers, ensnared in a belt and polished shoes. So sexy how his top buttons were unfastened, as if he craved to cleave it off (I don't necessarily mind that), exposing his chiselled collarbone.

I love his eyes. After what happened, the pair excites me, leaves me breathless, leaves me speechless.

When he was sitting, holding a glass, leaned back ... The only good devil to exist, if that is possible. I saw the way he stared at me. Sensuous, amusing and adorable. Sensuous again. I wanted to laugh.

It never disturbed me.

Honestly, after everything that occurred, I was timorous and frightened to wear this dress. Not too revealing, but the colour and design ... I decided to wear it to have a sense of confidence, to remind myself that a bunch of men shouldn't be an excuse to not appreciate my body.

I was not going to let a boy to wreck my sense of style, to cleave my right to wear whatever I want. Clothes do not 'suggest' or 'invite' to touch.

I pour apricot punch, wavering to the shifting throng. Sorsha is right — it is strange to have countless celebrities in one place. Models, talk show hosts, actors and actresses, directors, producers, fashion designers and mayors. Famous figures I fan-girled over and dreamed of meeting. Here they are — in front of me, talking and laughing. I perceive a Korean male singer I adore. Should I talk to him? I've been a fan for years. It might be weird, might annoy him.

"What is this song?" grumbles a familiar voice.

My stomach heaves to my throat. I was so engrossed in the celebrities, I didn't realise who was next to me. "What are you doing here?"

Camila De La Cruz, in a lavish red, halter-neck dress, focuses on me, also comprehending my presence just now. "I've been invited."

I briefly observe the club. If Camila is here, so are Destiny and Kristina.

"We came for Destiny."

"Derek doesn't want her."

She chuckles. "And you think he wants you?"

"I never said that."

I distinguish a female guard in a hijab. Sanem Ersoy. She meets my gaze, and distinguishing Camila, she hastens to us.

"You should back off, April." Camila cruelly smiles. "Have you forgotten the little visit from my dear papa?"

My grip hardens on the glass. "Leave."

Her leer darkens. "I know Bodie talked to you. Be careful of who you believe. In case you haven't noticed, there are liars all around you—"

"I'm looking at one now, bitch."

"Bodie was a liar."

"I know you assaulted him," I snapped. "I heard you confess, Camila—"

She suddenly takes out her phone, tapping the screen. "Enough to make daddy come after you."

My heart pounds. "Daddy? Are you a little girl who needs to be cared for? Aww."

"Like your dad is here to do that," she snarls. 

I slapped her. Her face whips to the side, her cheek as red as her dress. "At least my Dad doesn't go around threatening girls."

Ersoy reaches us. Camila huffs at the invasion, about to leave, but three more women cage her in. My head spins for a second, as if lacking iron, light-headed. Next thing I know, it vanishes completely.

Ersoy inspects the blonde. "Camila, is it?"

A Latina says, "We found her."

Camila and I frown as the four women are silent for seconds. Then, Ersoy tenderly latches onto Camila. "Madame Everston wants to have a word with you."

"W—what?" she stutters. "Why?"

No answer, she thrashes as the four, powerful women draw her away.

I grab Ersoy's wrist. "Where is Derek?"

"He's currently busy," she replies. "But he'll be with you soon — Are you alright, April? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," I lied. "Thank you."

I let her go. She disappears into the darkness, and I wonder why Derek wants to converse with Camila. My ex-friend screams and thrashes, and more women of his Security hurry to assist. The commotion disappears behind a malicious, hellish veil.

My eyelids are heavy. When I try to widen my eyes, it hurts. I sip the punch and stop, staring at the drink, then at the other mocktails. No alcohol, but ... No. I'm not drunk. I'd know if I am.

"You know what she did?"

A cold hand grabs my shoulder. Treyvon Mensah, in a beguiling outfit of silk and bedazzle. I never thought Derek invited him. I can see why — Treyvon is an outgoing guy, easy to get along with. At Ines's party, he orchestrated the music. Ines's party ...

Treyvon grits his teeth. "You know what she did and you're not doing anything about it?"

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please forgive me <3