The Silver Lining
Authors: Jennifer Raygoza
The Silver Lining
By
Jennifer Raygoza
Published by
Hot Ink Press
This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The Silver Lining
Copyright © 2015 by Jennifer Raygoza
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are
either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Artist: Rue Volley
Edited by: Elizabeth A. Lance
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means without written permission of the author.
I dedicate this book to those I have loved and to those I have lost, and to the one man who has stayed by my side for all of these years, Joel Raygoza. I can say this with experience. Love is never easy. Nothing about taking two people, shoving them together in life and asking them to trust the other person 100%, is simple. My favorite quote from this book is this one. Love has no limits. No boundaries. It has no rules or regulations. It just is. To me this is the most touching part of the story. Sometimes love is found in the worst moments of someone’s life and with that in mind I wrote this book.
Contents
Chapter 1. Money is like a disease
Chapter 3. Mixed Messages and Broken Signals.
Chapter 5. I Just Spilt My Heart Out
Chapter 6. These are delicate times
Chapter 7. You’re not crazy. You’re in love
Chapter 10. You have my interest
Chapter 12. Give me more details
“First day out, huh? That’s got to feel great,” the gray haired driver shouted back.
“Yeah,” I responded, with a lack of enthusiasm, as I climbed into the taxi.
I sat there in the back of the cab nervously running the palm of my hands up and down my legs. The thought of returning back to my mother’s house had me on edge. I inhaled long and deep and then exhaled out slowly. This painful ache started to build in my neck area, as I looked out the window. A twenty five year old man, such as myself shouldn’t feel this much anxiety about seeing their mom, but I did. I mean, look at me sitting here all wound up like a politician on Election Day.
The lady I speak of, my mother, gave birth to me, but she damn sure wasn’t very maternal, at least not in my case. Now, my younger brother Chad, on the other hand has always been mommy’s perfect, little boy. He’s currently attending Harvard Medical School, and my mother eats-it-up. “He’s going to be a big time Doctor one day,” she says. That’s her favorite card to play. It’s always the first thing she vomits out of her mouth in any conversation. It’s also something she gets to brag about, to all her obnoxious country club friends. The members there all like to one up each other, and my mother is no different. I swear they keep mental notes of all of the member’s achievements. It’s sick.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous of Chad at all. My problem lies solely with my mother. Chad, is a good person with a good heart. He worked extremely hard for all his accomplishments, and I respect that. He deserved the world. It’s just hard to keep swallowing all of his perfection, since my mother so eagerly crams it down my throat at every opportunity. I can just hear her now. “Why can’t you be more like your brother? He makes no mistakes. He takes all the high roads and never, ever gets into trouble.” She’s right though. That is exactly how I would describe my brother. Chad is an angel in her eyes.
Then there’s me, James King. Son of wealthy, ambitious hotel owner, Victoria King, busted for cocaine possession. Let’s be honest. I’ve always been a rebel, a little rough around the edges. The black sheep of the family. The outcast. No one ever thought twice about me, not even when I was arrested. The only thing was I didn’t really do it, but I served time for the crime. Call it guy code or loyalty to a friend or whatever you want. I never snitched. I could have ratted. I should have ratted, but I didn’t. I waited for the person who was responsible to step forward and own up to it and this person failed me.
All that doesn’t matter now though. I have my freedom and along with that came another issue to deal with. One that felt like a death sentence, because being sent to my mother’s home was the equivalent. I suppose to understand fully why I felt this way, one would have to go back and see the rise and fall of our family.
Here’s a little family history. My father started up a hotel chain, before he died, that successfully grew and spread like wildfire across the United States. People loved staying there. King Hotels suddenly had a reputation of being top of the line, which brought in the celebrities from all over the world. These hotels were considered a luxury stop, a home away from home, but only for those with an expensive taste. When I say expensive I mean, it’s the type of place that charges you five thousand dollars a night, and in return you get treated like the royalty you think you are. In addition, valet parks your car, while bell boys take the luggage up to your very classy room. Tips are then expected, so the guests feel obligated to pay. Most people didn’t mind tipping, because they got what they paid for, with all the yes sir’s and no sir’s, and can I get your bag ma’am or fetch your paper miss? If some of these guests had it their way, they would probably ask the staff to wipe their ass for them too.
I know because I used to help my mother out, after dad passed. I’ve seen it all. I demand this or I demand that, and don’t forget to add this to my room. I once was asked to separate, and throw out, all of the blue M&M’s from the rest of the bag of candy, because the guest hated the color blue. One ridiculous request after another, but that’s how it went in this industry. Guests pay the hotel an insane amount of money to stay there, and in return the employees became their personal bitches. The wealthy loved it. They took pride in showing off how much money sat in their bank account by spending, spending, spending. I always said money was like a disease and people were all infected. They just spread it around. Look what I have that you don’t. Look what I can afford that you can’t. It’s unbelievable.
King Hotels weren’t always like this. Initially the hotels used to be affordable and more family oriented, until my mother took over with her three infamous words…raise the price. This wasn’t what my father wanted. He built these hotels, so that the average person could enjoy a luxury stay at an economy price. Now with the hotel cost being what it is, white collar workers can’t even glance at the place without flinching. My father was probably turning over in his grave, and he had every right to.
I can still remember when he started the business fifteen years ago. He gave away two night stays to couples right off the street. He wanted to make a few people’s day. My father was that type of person. He had a big heart, big smile and making people happy made him happy. He was the type of business man that actually cared about people. It wasn’t just about money to him, like it was for my mother. She’s let money take priority in her life over everything, and I do mean everything.
The very thought of it all angered me, and because of the way the hotels were being run, I wanted no part of the King Business. No matter how hard my mother tried to convince me when I returned home to come work for her, I would not bend. It was just not for me. I couldn’t imagine myself in a tight monkey suit kissing people’s asses all day. That wouldn’t stop her from trying though. I knew her appetite to pull me in would be pretty strong, especially now that I had a felony on my record and the family name had been shamed. I could just see it. Victoria King in full effect. As soon as I got home it would be her duty to do damage control and try to turn my reputation into one that was publicly remarkable. A squeaky clean image that could be presented to the media. One that screamed I’m a changed man. This was where my nightmare would begin. I jiggled my leg as the taxi slowed to a stop.
I paid the driver, stepped out of the taxi and looked around. This was my old home here in Cherry Hills, California. The city itself was just how I left it. Prejudice as ever. I could already see a red headed woman, staring me down from across the street. She power walked my way in stiletto heels, carrying a Yorkie dog in one hand and a water bottle in the other. As she approached, I could smell the vodka coming off of her breath. She had her chin slightly tilted to the side in a suspicious manner, and her obvious breast implants seemed to bounce and lunge for me like a vicious tiger. She stopped, looked me up and down, and arched an eyebrow. That damn dog of hers was already growling. I groaned and ran my fingers through my hair. I really didn’t need this shit right now. I guess I’ll just stand here and let the drama unfold. It’s a beautiful day. The birds are chirping. The sun is out. Big red over here is eyeballing me. Why the hell not? I closed my eyes for a second and waited for it.
“Excuse me. My name is Mary Riverton. I’m head of the Neighborhood Watch, and I should let you know that whatever you’re selling we don’t need it on this street. There is absolutely no solicitation allowed here.” I tried to cut her off to say that I wasn’t a salesman, but she wouldn’t let me. “Don’t even think about breaking in around here either. I have the police on speed dial, and I’m very close friends with the chief. So, no funny business, understand?”
“You must be new around here.” I crossed my arms and stared at her.
“Pardon me?” She puckered her big, red lips at me, and pulled her dog closer to her chest.
“My name is James King. I’m Victoria’s other son. I just got back into town. I live right here.” I threw my thumb over my shoulder.
“Oh my goodness. I thought you were a crazy hoodlum casing out our street.”
“What would give you that impression, Mary?”
“Well…you just…you look…I thought…Oh never mind.”
I squinted my eyes at her, and rubbed my chin.
“First impressions are rough, right? I almost thought you were propositioning me for sex when you walked over. Silly me. It must have been that low cut top, and those hooker shoes you have on. The red hair alone screams escort to be honest.”
“Excuse me.” Her mouth dropped open.
“It’s great to be home, Mary Riverton. Good luck with that Neighborhood Watch thing. You might want to conceal that Vodka a little better, but other than that, you’re doing an awesome job so far,” I said, sarcastically and gave her a thumbs up.
I turned and chuckled as I walked toward my mother’s house. Mary was not about to ruin my day. I stopped letting people’s opinions get to me a long time ago. I’d deal with people like Mary any day of the week over paparazzi. I was just glad the media missed my release day entirely. It was another annoying thing that I wished I could just cut out of my life, because I didn’t think I was famous, but being the son of a millionaire proved different. I stared at the large security gate briefly before making my way over to the keypad. I punched in the secret code, which was my father’s birthday and the gate slowly opened. I felt as though I was stepping into the gates of hell once my foot hit the driveway. I walked down the long road and up to the mansion. I stopped to take in the place. It seemed so much bigger than it did sixteen months ago. I can’t even count all the damn windows in this place without getting tired.
I looked around to see all the perfect plants and all the perfect green grass that surrounded my mother’s home. The whole scene was beautiful, almost unattainable for most, like something out of a magazine. A good majority of men would give their left nut for this lifestyle, and here I had access to the dream, and wanted none of it. People would never understand why. The irony of it all. I turned my head to see zero cars in the driveway, which indicated that my mother and her new husband Carl must be out. Thank god. I didn’t have to knock. I still had the house key from when I used to stay here. I pulled the keys out of my pants pocket and opened the door.
The first thing I wanted to do was make myself a decent lunch, then take a long, hot shower. I took a good look around the house as I entered. It was spotless like always. The house had that freshly cleaned scent. I took a deep breathe in, because this was becoming real. I was out of prison, and standing inside her house. I looked up at the pictures on the wall to notice my mother took down every photo I was in. I quickly glanced over to the fire place. Damn. Not one photo of me was up. Was I that much of a disappointment to her, that she just erased me while I was locked up? For fuck’s sake, mom. I shook my head and brushed it off.
I turned to head down the long hallway to the kitchen. My pace picked up as I got closer. I rounded the corner, and stopped breathing when I saw her. She had her back to me and her ass was moving at a rate that made my cock twitch. I pushed it down once and mentally told myself to behave. Apparently good food wasn’t the only thing I missed while being in jail. I could hear music faintly playing, and from the way she was moving I had to assume she had ear buds in. I leaned myself up against the doorframe and watched her. This shit was entertaining as hell. She mopped the floor while gyrating her hips, and I have never been more turned on in my life by a cleaning lady. Her long black ponytail moved from side to side, almost in rhythm with her ass. She slowly circled her body and moved up and down and then she spun around and stared directly at me. I raised my eyebrows and stared back in silence. She dropped the mop and screamed bloody murder, which scared the shit out of me. She ripped the ear buds out of her ears and ran over to the counter, grabbing a butcher knife.