Page 1 of Flowers and Moonlight

CHAPTER 1

POSY

“Posy,” my name being bellowed from down the hall makes me flinch.

My father’s voice, laced with disappointment and hate, always has this effect on me. I wish I could pinpoint when it started—when he started looking at me like an inconvenience instead of his daughter and the last bit of my mom he had—but I can’t. It was a slow process which began when Clarissa, his second wife, and Samantha, her daughter, came into our lives.

I felt the neglect almost instantly, but at ten, even though I was still grieving my mom, I could understand Dad wanting to make them feel like part of the family. He gave them attention and showered them with gifts. It was easy for him to do since he’s rich. He even started spending less time at the office.

Cutting back at work should have made me resent the hell out of him considering the number of times I heard Mom begging him to be home more and spend more time with us. He never did. Not until Clarissa and Samantha showed up.

Suddenly, he had so much time for them.

Now, 15 years later, he still finds time for them, but somewhere along the way I became the one who was nevergood enough. Never smart enough. Never pretty enough. Never driven enough.

It’s a strange thing since I’ve been working since I was old enough and was always a straight A student. I always did what he wanted me to do. I never broke curfew.

Samantha became his golden daughter even though she was never a good student. She came home late all the time. She dated boys who Dad never liked, but tolerated because Samantha would pout at him and manipulate him by saying he must not love her or accept her.

She’s evil and I hate her.

She never lets me forget that she took my place as my father’s daughter. If only I could stop caring. If only it didn’t bother me. If only I didn’t make decisions with the hope of having my father wake up and love me again. I’m pretty sure that’s never going to happen.

When my door swings open so hard that it bangs against the wall, the look on Dad’s face is filled with malice. I shrink back from him. He has never put his hands on me, but I’m also not willing to test the theory. How could I when it’s clear I don’t know the man anymore?

Maybe I never did.

“Samantha doesn’t like the dress she picked out for the Guidice Ball tonight,” he says the words like I should care.

I try not to, but my eyes dart over to the dress I picked out. When I saw it, I loved it instantly. It’s an off the shoulder black gown with long lace sleeves. There’s a slit up the leg and is backless.

Samantha picked out a bright red dress which barely covers her ass, but I wasn’t surprised with her choice. Everything about Samantha begs for everyone’s attention. I’m not sure if I used to be like her, but I know I’m not now. I’d rather fade into the background; it’s safer that way.

I was shocked when Dad told me we’d be going to the ball as a family. It’s always held on the last day of Mardi Gras and is the hot ticket event in the city because it’s thrown by the Guidice family, currently run by Dante Guidice. Dad and Clarissa have gone for years, but I’ve never been allowed to attend.

I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks.

“Her dress is very pretty,” I speak the words softly and slowly, unsure where this conversation is going.

The lie slips easily from my lips because I’ve gotten good at complimenting all things Samantha in the hope of not angering my father. I learned my lesson the hard way.

When I was in high school, I complained one time about her being mean to me at school when she pushed me and had one of the guys panting after her ask me out as a joke. The worst part is that the guy was apologetic about it and told me I was beautiful, but he really wanted Samantha.

Dad accused me of making the whole thing up, took away my car, and grounded me. I still shiver at the way he verbally berated me. Then there were the chores he made me do. He made sure I remembered every day of my punishment to the point that my grades almost slipped because I was doing so many chores and barely had time for homework.

I’ve never talked badly about Samantha since then. If he can’t see the kind of person she is, it’s on him. I see her very clearly.

Speaking of, Samantha comes up behind my father with a wicked smile on her face. She’s up to something and I hate it. There’s also nothing I can do to stop whatever is about to happen.

“Samantha told me about how you stole the dress she wanted right out from under her,” my father’s voice is full of admonishment. “You will give her the dress she originally wanted.”

“Dad,” my voice is high and tight, my throat trying to close because I’m scared of standing up to him, but also sick of this shit. “I didn’t steal the dress from her. I saw it first and it was the only dress I tried on. It’s not her style at all. She never said anything about liking the dress I picked out.”

Dad snarls, “You will not talk back to me, Posy.”

“I,” I swallow hard and try to find some strength.

When it comes to Dad, there’s a scared little girl inside of me who still wants his acceptance and love. It’s pathetic. It’s not worth it; none of it is.