Page 3 of Deserving Cora
But it didn’t matter. Eleanor simply wasn’t going to let Cora win something that she’d so desperately wanted.
She huffed out a breath as she blindly pushed through the crowd. She needed to get the hell out of there. No way was she going to give Eleanor the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Detouring to the coat check area at the back of the grand ballroom, then down a short hall to the bathrooms, Cora locked herself inside one of the stalls and leaned against the wall as she desperately tried to keep despair from overwhelming her.
She’d been so sure she’d be able to convince Bryson Clark to help. All she needed was an hour or so to talk to him. To plead her case. The police hadn’t believed her. Lara’s own parents dismissed her concerns without thinking twice, and she’d exhausted all of her other options. But Cora knew down to her bones that her friend was in danger. An ex-special forces soldier could easily get to Lara. Talk to her. Find out if she was safe or not.
Taking a deep breath, Cora straightened. Fine, Eleanor might’ve ruined her plans tonight, but she still had six thousand bucks. She could fly out to New Mexico, go to The Refuge in person, and see if she could talk to one of the men who owned the place. It would be better if she could get a reservation for one of the cabins so she could seem like a visitor, but that was impossible. They were booked up for months.
Cora wasn’t even sure why she was so fixated on the men who ran The Refuge. They were no longer in the military. They all suffered from various degrees of PTSD. Hell, they were resort owners now, not mercenaries for hire or something. But from the moment she’d visited their website…seen their pictures and read their bios…something about the men had struck a chord deep within her. They’d all suffered, and yet they’d gone out of their way to help others. And from the news accounts she’d read about recent situations with some of the women who now lived and worked at The Refuge, the owners seemed to have a soft spot for women in peril.
So maybe, just maybe, they’d be willing to look into Lara’s situation. It was worth a shot. Cora would do whatever it took to help her friend.
She dismissed going straight to Phoenix to try to see Lara herself, because she had a feeling that would be an epic failure. She didn’t have the strength or skills needed to succeed. No, she needed someone like Mr. Clark or one of the other men who worked at The Refuge.
Deciding that going to The Refuge would’ve been a better plan than trying to win the auction anyway, Cora reached into the bag she’d checked earlier and began to change clothes. She’d never been one to dwell on the bad shit in her life; if she was, she wouldn’t be able to function. Her life had never been easy, and why she’d expected tonight to be any different was a complete mystery.
Cora quickly changed into the jeans, T-shirt, old, comfy sweatshirt, and sneakers that she’d brought with her, and stuffed the black dress and heels into the bag. She wasn’t stupid enough to ride back to her crappy part of town wearing something so nice. She’d be picked off by one of the many drug dealers or creeps who prowled the Metro looking for victims before she could blink.
She used the bathroom for good measure while she was there, then exited the stall. After washing her hands, Cora pushed open the restroom door and headed down the hall that led back into the ballroom. Her plan had been to slide out of there unnoticed by the crowd, whose attention was still on the stage for the ongoing auction. But of course, like all her carefully crafted plans that night, that was also destined to fail.
Eleanor Vanlandingham and two of her Barbie followers were waiting for her as soon as she stepped into the dim lights of the ballroom.
Of course, Eleanor looked beautiful in the dark green dress she’d poured herself into. The bitch duo flanking her, Valentina and Scarlett, also looked as perfect as ever in their almost-matching strapless black dresses and four-inch heels. Their makeup was perfectly painted onto their Botox-injected faces. Valentina rocked her curves, filling out her LBD like a Marilyn Monroe lookalike, while Scarlett was her opposite, rail thin like a runway model.
The trio might be beautiful on the outside, but they were rotten to the core. They took every opportunity to step on anyone they considered beneath them…which was just about everyone.
Eleanor didn’t give Cora the chance to speak, simply jumped in with the insults she was known to use every time she opened her mouth. If words were colors, Eleanor’s would’ve been pitch black.
“Yeah, that’s right, bitch, go back to the hole you crawled out of. I don’t know how you got a ticket for tonight’s event, but you aren’t good enough to be here.”
“Funny, my money’s just as green as yours, El,” Cora said, straightening her shoulders. Now that she was wearing clothes she was more comfortable in, she felt more sure of herself. As if she’d redonned her armor.
“What money?” Eleanor sneered. “Your dress was from Walmart, and those shoes you had on? You get those at Payless?”
Valentina and Scarlett giggled as if Eleanor had said the most hilarious thing ever.
Cora refused to be ashamed that Eleanor’s guesses on where she’d gotten her clothes and shoes were spot on. She’d been saving her money for more important things.
“Why are you such a horrible person?” Cora asked. “I mean, seriously, I would’ve thought you’d grown out of being a mean, bitchy, stuck-up snob after you graduated from high school. Instead, more than two decades later, you’ve just gotten worse. The world doesn’t revolve around you, El.”
“Stop calling me that,” Eleanor growled, taking a step closer.
Cora stood her ground. No way would she ever back down from this bitch. If she wanted to throw down right here, right now, Cora was ready. In fact, she wished she would. Eleanor would get her ass kicked in front of everyone, just like she deserved. She could take this stuck-up bitch in her heels and tight dress in a heartbeat. Hell, could take on Frick and Frack standing next to her, as well. All she needed was Eleanor to make the first move.
She’d learned the hard way that being the aggressor never turned out well after a fight…but if she was protecting herself, that was a different story.
But of course, Eleanor wouldn’t use physical force. Her words were her weapons.
“You’re trash, and you always will be, Cora Rooney,” Eleanor hissed. “You’re an embarrassment. Everyone was laughing at you tonight, wondering why the hell you were here, who made the mistake and sold you a ticket. Even if the only way you couldeverget a man to look twice at you is by buying one, you were never going to win an auction. The second we saw you, we decided if you bid on anyone, you’d be the loser you already are.”
The old feeling of rejection hit Cora hard. None of her foster families had ever wanted to keep her, so she’d shuffled from home to home, school to school. Consequently, it was impossible to make friends. People she’d thought had her back turned on her the second someone more interesting came along.
Except for Lara. It had been hard for Cora to trust her for a long time, but whenever she did or said something to drive her away, Lara never even flinched. She’d stood by her time and time again. Had helped her get a job when she’d needed one desperately, had let her live with her when she was one day away from living on the streets.
Pushing down the pain of Eleanor’s words, Cora glared. “Fuck you,” she said between clenched teeth.
“Oh, yeah, that’s elegant,” Eleanor sniped with a roll of her eyes. “So classy. Why don’t you just die already?” she added. “No one liked you in high school, and no one likes you now. You’re weird, ugly, and pathetic!”
