Missus Chic.
Growing up is hard to do. I no longer smell teen spirit or the leather seats of an old tour van; in fact, the only things I now smell are breakfasts of fruit parfait a with raw honey, the scent of my husband's Calvin Klein cologne when he douses himself each morning, and the only leather in my life exists in the form of heels, handbags, and my office chair.
I'm owner of a dream; CEO of a company ... in my imagination, at least. Maybe it will be a reality someday. Eighths and Bass Lyrics - the brain child of my grunge-self, and a way to keep a Jimmy Choo'd foot in the world in which I was forced to conform, and a combat booted foot in the one I wish to remain. Someday, I tell myself. Someday.
I'm living a proper, American, post-9/11 life. My hair is bobbed, highlighted and straight, and a the Stars and Stripes fly proudly in front of our four bedroom, three bath ranch built in 1954. Jacob, an investment banker, and I have the predetermined life of the average American couple: a dog, Roofus, a garden of roses and lilacs, a pool, a trampoline, a landline and two mobile phones, and 2.5 kids. For real. There's a bun in this oven. I just found out. I can't say I'm thrilled.
Only a handful of people know the truth - my biggest secret. Jake is one of those people, and I know he resents me just a little for it, but he'd never let Reny catch the bitter eyes he forgets to hide from me.
My oldest daughter, an eight-year-old beauty with fiery hair, is not his child. She's the product of my old life - drugs and alcohol and rock-n-roll; Seattle, when I was a groupie, and Eddie Cullen was the shit.
He came in my mouth, on my tits, in my ass, and everywhere he wanted, because as long as I had him on me, he was mine. What we lacked in romance, we made up for in fun. I was his go-to girl. I didn't ask for exclusivity, but he gave it. He fell in love with me before I had a chance to grow up. To a nineteen-year-old, love and lust and two different things. To Eddie, a twenty-one-year old drummer and Stanford drop-out, the two were mutually exclusive.
My last night with him in Seattle, a night of coke and whiskey and fucking, created my beautiful girl. And he had no idea. I took off first thing the next morning, heading straight to my future at NYU.
I don't think he'll ever know.
A/N:
Enjoy the ride!