“You can’t save people who don’t want to be saved, Hendrix.” She got a knowing, almost faraway look in her eyes, and I had a feeling she was talking about more than just my current situation.
“That’s just it though. I think she does. She just won’t admit it. And then she makes me feel like shit when I try to be there for her.”
“Does she know? About . . .”
“No.” I shook my head. “No one knows, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Fair enough. But I think you should talk to her. In a real way. Try to explain where you’re coming from. Lay it all out, and then you have to be OK with what she does with that. You can’t force someone to accept your help, but you can say your piece and move on knowing you did all you could.”
“She won’t talk to me.” I slumped against the back of the couch.
“Make her.” She shrugged. “You’re a big strong man.”
“I thought I was a kid.”
“Clearly, I was mistaken.”
“Did you just advise me to manhandle an innocent young girl?”
“I did no such thing. A man knows how to make someone hear him without resorting to violence or childish yelling.” She gave me a pointed look.
I sighed and stared at the ceiling. She was right. I had to make her listen. This churning, unsettling feeling in my gut wouldn’t go away until I did.
I got to my feet. “OK. I’ll be back.”
“Now?” Hannah bugged her eyes out.
“No time like the present. Life’s too short. Carpe diem, et cetera, et cetera.”
I grabbed my keys and waved over my shoulder as I headed right back to my car.
It took less than ten minutes to drive to her house. The big black metal gates were open wide, her ostentatious driveway curving up and around a bend. The top of the house was just visible in the distance.
I slowed down, nearly came to a stop . . . then pushed down on the accelerator and drove off again, swearing under my breath. I’d driven over here determined to make her listen, but with no idea what I wanted to say.
After pulling over around the corner, I pinched the bridge of my nose. What exactly did I want to tell her? I definitely didn’t want to detail my whole sordid past. I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about that, let alone the girl who’d managed to get under my skin more than anyone ever had.
Nearly half an hour went by as my mind wandered off on tangents, the same frustrations looping around and around, half-finished sentences floating past. None of it felt right.
I was getting nowhere.
“Fuck it.” I started the car.
Driving around the block took almost as long as it had taken me to drive there in the first place, as the properties in the area were massive. I pulled into the driveway and made slow progress up the hill, then parked away from the imposing front doors, on the other side of the fountain.
No way was I going to slink up to that front door looking timid and unsure, so I squared my shoulders, ran a hand through my hair—again—and walked up the stairs steadily and confidently.
I rang the doorbell and resisted the urge to fidget as I waited.
Donna’s mom pulled the door open—there was no way the petite blonde in three-quarter yoga pants and a loose shirt was a servant. Plus, Donna and Harlow looked like her.
“Hello.” She gave me a friendly smile, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. “How can I help you?”
This wasn’t my first time introducing myself to rich, proper people or to the parents of a girl I wanted to speak to. I’d had more privileged pussy than I could count—way more practice at this than I cared to admit.
I pulled my Ray-Bans off and flashed her a grin. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m so sorry to bother you during the holidays. Please accept my apologies for showing up unannounced. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I just need to speak with your daughter.”
She watched me for a moment, amusement replacing the curiosity in her eyes. “Don’t you kids all have cell phones for that?” She was teasing me. I liked her. Is this where Donna got her quick wit?
“Yes, we do, Mrs. Mead, but this is a conversation I’d prefer to have face to face.”
“OK then.” She looked me up and down one more time. “I’m guessing you’re here to see Harlow?”