Enemies & Lovers

by Christine Zolendz

  Matteo flinches back at Vaughn’s accusations.

  My stomach drops.

  What happened to last night? What happened to missing me? What about all the things he said—all the things he felt? What about—

  No. I’m not doing this right now in front of them. Screw him.

  “Don’t worry,” I say as steadily as I can, “after I get out of here you will never see or hear of me again.”

  “Good,” he says, pulling on his coat. “I called Matteo to bring his truck to get us out of here. I’ll have him drop you under whatever rock you crawled out from, but you’ll have to deal with your car stuck up here on your own. That’s not my problem.”

  I nod, because I know if I say anything my voice will give away the sheer heartache that’s spinning through my head right now.

  Vaughn rolls his eyes and storms to the front door.

  When he’s out of view, Matteo touches a hand to my elbow. “Claire, are you okay?”

  I slowly bring my gaze up to meet his, “No, but I will be, as long as it’s okay if you do drive me home.”

  “That’s not a problem, Claire. I’ll get you home safely,” he says. His expression looks deeply concerned.

  “Thank you, Matteo,” I whisper. “I’m going to get dressed.”

  I gather up my clothes and coat, bringing them all into the bathroom to change and freshen up. I don’t bother looking in the mirror, I don’t want to see my mother looking back at me. I pull on my clothes and splash some warm water over my face without taking even a small glimpse of my reflection. I end up sobbing into my hands.

  Vaughn lied to me about everything. He manipulated my feelings, took advantage of my fears and vulnerability and took what he wanted. I never want to see another Montgomery for as long as I live. They’ve taken everything they could from me, and now the only thing I can think about doing is getting home, packing a bag, and starting over somewhere far away from all of this.

  I’ve never felt more used or dirty in all my life.

  None of us speak as we climb into Matteo’s truck. It’s so high off the ground I have to pull up on a bar to reach the footrail. Neither men offer me any help.

  The drive down the mountain is slow and treacherous. It takes three hours, when it only took me a little less than an hour to get there in the first place.

  Vaughn spends the entire ride on his phone, making call after call, talking with friends and making dates and plans with numerous women. His conversations get sexually explicit on more than one call, and I sit in silence letting each sickening exchange wash over me like rain. I feel badly for every woman he speaks with; none of them know the monster he truly is deep inside. They just see the Montgomery name and the price tag attached to him.

  Matteo spends the entire drive with his attention bouncing between the snowy roads ahead of us and looking at me through the rearview mirror. Every time I lift my gaze forward, I can feel him watching me through the small rectangular reflection, and when our gazes meet his face pales like he’s seeing a ghost.

  Maybe I am one.

  Some empty dead spirit that walks among the rich living people.

  I’ll have to rectify that soon. I’ll make sure no Montgomery will ever be able to find me again.

  When we get to the base of the mountain, the snow on the ground is thinner, less dangerous to drive in. Matteo asks for directions to my house and we speak quietly back and forth, while Vaughn talks about the killer blowjob he would like a repeat performance of the next time he sees—I believe her name is Genevieve.

  I’m sick to my stomach by the time Matteo pulls up to the front of my apartment. My stomach a tight knot of pain.

  Matteo clears his throat as I open the car door. “It was…uh…good to see you again, Claire,” he says.

  I don’t say anything, I just look at him quickly and nod.

  Vaughn cuts his phone conversation short and leans his head back against the front seat to look at me dead in the eyes. “Yeah, that was a pretty decent lay. Thanks for the easy wet hole.”

  My eyes immediately well up.

  A sound like a whimper escapes past my lips. I’m mortified, but I know he could have said something worse—he could have offered me money.

  I climb out of the car and my boots instantly sink into the snow. I close the car door just as Vaughn rolls down his window.

  He’s about to say something else to me and I refuse to let him have the last word. “Montgomery, get out of the car and walk me to the door,” I growl.

  “I don’t think so, I’m sure you could—”

  “Now, Montgomery, or I will call TMZ and your mother and tell her everything. And believe me, I will embellish a shit-ton,” I grunt under my breath. I’m trying not to let Matteo hear me, but I doubt I’ve accomplished that goal.

  Vaughn groans, annoyed, and climbs out of the car. He stomps his way ahead of me and waits at my front door, looking angry as hell.

  I follow after him, wondering how he even knew which row house I lived in, if he was so busy having phone sex with other women while I told Matteo my address. Before I jam my key into the door or gouge his eyes out with it, I turn to him with a leveled glare. “So, I was right all along? You’re just like your father?” I seethe.

  He doesn’t look away. “Yeah, guess you were right. So?”

  “Or—” I say, folding my arms across my chest, “something happened that made you say all those lies to Matteo?”

  “Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he says, averting his eyes back to Matteo’s car.

  He’s freaking lying to me.

  Why is he lying to me?

  What the hell is going on?

  “I thought that there was something—"

  Vaughn groans and jumps at me, thrusting his hand into my coat pocket.

  I scrabble away, slapping his hand away. “What the fuck, Montgomery!” I scream.

  “Yeah. I thought there was something too, until I watched you go back into that drawer last night and sneak what you found out of it and hide it in here,” he mutters, yanking and gripping at my coat pocket.

  I slip and slide on the snowy walkway as he struggles to get his way.

  “No, don’t!” I screech, “You don’t understand. Stop!” I let go of his hands and slap him hard across the face.

  His eyes, angry and violent, glare into mine. My handprint reddens his cheek and I desperately want to add another one to the other side of his stupid face.

  He yanks the pocket, ripping it right off my coat, getting his way. I’m embarrassed and hurt, but I’m too full of rage to cry. “You thought I found the accounts, didn’t you?” I whisper, in disbelief. That’s what this was all about. All the hate he just spewed on me, all that hurt? “I didn’t find them.”

  He holds up what I hid in my pocket the night before, between us. His eyes zone in on it and his face instantly blanches. Good, I hope it hurts.

  It’s a ripped picture of me and my mother. It was one of the last times we were good together, before everything in my family went to hell. In the picture I’m fifteen and I’ve just won an award at school. I was inducted in the National Junior’s Honor Society and she was so proud of me, she came to the school assembly and even took me out to dinner to celebrate.

  “I found it and I couldn’t leave it there. It’s the only thing I had left of her and me.” The damn breaks and tears rush down my cheeks. “You thought I found the accounts? The whole night I laid in your arms?” I shove my hands at his chest, over and over. “Don’t ever come near me again! I hate you. I fucking hate you…you…you Montgomery!”

  I fumble with the key and the door. I can’t see through the blur of tears. When I get it open, I rush through and slam it closed in his face. I sob into the back of it for what feels like an eternity until no more tears will come and hiccups and panic breathing take over.

  When I turn around, I scream in absolute shock.

  My apartment is ransacked—completely destroyed—and it sounds like whoever did
it is still here.

  Chapter 19

  Vaughn

  I stumble back to Matteo’s truck, numb.

  “Bro,” Matteo says when I get inside and close the door. “Are you all right? What’s going on? You and Claire?” He’s just as stunned about the idea of it as I was, and now I’m more confused than ever—more shocked than I could imagine. The only thing inside her coat pocket was a picture of her and her mother. There were no stolen accounts. She just found a picture of her and her mother together and she wanted to keep it and what did I end up doing? I ripped it out of her pocket like a caveman all because I assumed—I assumed she was just like Libby.

  Even when she told me over and over again she was nothing like her.

  “Whose house was that? On that mountain?” Matteo asks as he starts driving.

  “That place…it was, it was Libby Radcliffe’s…” I sigh, hating the fact I have to say any of this shit out loud. “It was Libby’s and my father’s.”

  Matteo slams on the brakes and the truck skids along the icy blacktop. “What?” he asks, incredulously. “Are you serious? Your father and her mother? They were still together after all these years?”

  I run my hands down my face. “I don’t know if they carried on the affair for this long or it was something that rekindled in recent years, but Libby lived in that house and all my father’s things were there. Current pictures of them together. His clothes. It was unsettling to see it all, for both of us.”

  “How did you find out about it? And what did Libby have to say for herself about all this?”

  “Libby’s dead. Suicide,” I say, drawing out a long breath. “And the house was my inheritance. At the reading of his will me, my mother, and Chloe were all given envelopes that were supposed to be even parts of his estate. Only they weren’t. He gave away his fortune to charity in my mother and Chloe’s name, and I got the deed to the house that Libby lived in.”

  “That’s unreal,” he whispers.

  “Why would my inheritance be the deed to the house he shared with his mistress? The mistress who was also the mother to the one person who…”

  “The one person who what?” He glares at me. I don’t understand his expression. Maybe I’m just too exhausted and confused to think straight about any of this right now. “How does Claire fit into all this? What did she say about it?”

  “Claire was just as surprised as I was, and she hadn’t seen her mother in over five years. She was up there packing her mom’s stuff. Your mother was there, Claire said she let her in.”

  “My mother knew about it, damn. No wonder we’re so fucked up and have such questionable morals,” he laughs.

  I laugh alongside him.

  Thing is, it’s not funny, not at all. And I don’t know why I’m laughing.

  “Look, don’t say anything to anyone about this, please. I need to figure some things out,” I breathe.

  “Yes, sure,” he says, moving the gear shift into drive again. “But let me get this straight, because I don’t understand. Your father left your mom and Chloe nada, and you get a picturesque mountain house? Did he leave anything to Libby or Claire?” The streets are empty as he drives, and it starts to snow again.

  For some reason my gut tells me not to say anything about any secret offshore accounts my father might have had. There’s no way to know for sure if they’re real or not, right now the only thing I know for sure about them is that some stranger who has Libby Radcliffe’s phone thinks there might be accounts. God only knows if that’s that truth. “No. No one got anything but me.”

  “You mean he left no money for his family? At all?”

  “There’s nothing, nothing but a house where love once lived,” I whisper to myself. I can’t help not caring about the money or the house or any of it. All I can think about at this moment is Claire and all the things I accused her of doing and being. Did I just lose the only person I ever loved?

  Matteo tries to keep asking questions, but I can’t listen any longer. “Just give me a minute, Matt, please. I need to just sit here in silence and try and get my thoughts together, okay?” I turn my back on him without waiting for his answer and stare out the window. He makes a garbled noise and I know I’ve offended him, but he’s not my priority right now, he’s got nothing to do with any of this. It’s not even his family.

  What the hell did I just do to Claire? Could this be the end? Will I ever see her again? Will she ever forgive me for thinking the worst of her? And if she could ever forgive me, then what? Will I ever be able to stop thinking the worst of her when things are questionable?

  Forty minutes later, Matteo, still annoyed with me, pulls onto my mother’s estate and parks right in front of the entrance. I know he’s not trying to be a dick, but he really could have parked the car on the side of the house, where no one could see I was back. But no, he pulled right in front and now Chloe is out of the front door, hugging her arms around her torso shivering and yelling at me, all full of concern.

  Jesus, really?

  “She’s been worried about you. Where have you been? Why did you leave without telling us? Mom isn’t doing well. Why would you leave me all alone to handle her like this?” Chloe sounds like a petulant child. “Vaughn, seriously,” she yanks me back by the sleeve as I walk through the door. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

  I keep walking inside, searching the foyer. Matteo slips in the house after me and closes out the cold.

  “Where is she?” I whisper in Chloe’s direction.

  “In bed, full of Valium,” Chloe mumbles back.

  “Come on, let’s go into the library where no one can hear anything,” I say, leading the way. Matteo follows behind us. I want to tell him to give us a moment, or at least some space, but I can tell he’s still annoyed with me and I know he’s only trying to be there for us, so I choose not to send him away. He’ll find out everything soon anyway.

  When we get into the library Matteo locks the door behind us and I know it was a good choice to let him stay because he could be our lookout, in case he hears my mother or any of the help.

  “Dad left me a house,” I blurt, facing Chloe.

  “He left you a house? And I got nothing?” Her face turns ashen.

  “Just listen,” I say, holding up a hand to stop her, “before you go off on one of your self-loathing, ‘poor me’ tantrums. I went to the house.” I sit down on one of the reading chairs and motion for Chloe to do the same. “It’s a mountain cabin, right out of a Hallmark holiday movie, beautiful. But when I got there, someone was already there.”

  Chloe slides to the edge of the chair. “Cut to the chase, Vaughn. What happened? Who was there?”

  “Claire.” I whisper her name because I want to hold in inside my mouth and savor it. I don’t want to share it with anyone, just like when we were children.

  “Claire? I don’t know anyone named—” she cuts her thought short.

  “Claire Radcliffe,” I say.

  Chloe jumps to her feet, hands tightened into little fists at her sides. “What was Claire Radcliffe doing at the house Daddy left you?” Her mouth drops open, her jaw goes slack. “Are you telling me…please do not tell me Claire was doing anything with—”

  “Ew, no!” It’s my turn to jump up and ball my hands into fists. “She was there getting her mother’s stuff. Libby and Dad were secretly living there together. For years.”

  “Mom is going to kill her,” she breathes.

  “Libby’s already dead,” I explain, raking my hands through my hair. “Just listen to the rest of the story, please, and stop jumping to conclusions.” I blow out a quick breath. “Claire had no idea about them. She hasn’t seen her mother in years, she barely ever spoke to her.”

  Chloe gave me a doubtful glare.

  “I’m pretty positive she was telling me the truth,” I stammer loudly.

  “Yeah, right,” she scoffs.

  “Do you know after what happened that night, she was sent away from her fam
ily? She didn’t see them at all. And when she got out and went back home, she had no home? Remember how everyone promised her jobs? She had all those internships lined up…She came here and tried to get a job, and no one here would give her one because of what people said about her and her mother.”

  “Yeah, of course I remember that. Mom had the entire staff at the country club sign a waiver to never allow Libby Radcliffe to be able to step foot inside again. But her mother did that to herself, Vaughn. She ruined our family. You remember what happened to Mom after she found out about the affair, how sick and depressed she got?”

  “Yes, I know what she went through, but Claire was the one who suffered for everything Libby and Dad did, Chloe. Claire couldn’t step foot in the club either. She was eighteen and homeless. She couldn’t even get a job stocking shelves at the grocery store in town because no one wanted to go against Mom.”

  “So what?” she says, throwing her hands in the air. “They tore our parents’ marriage apart!”

  “Libby did, not Claire!” I shout, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Her mother abandoned her for our father, and her father disowned the both of them. She’s been on her own since that night.” I squeezed her shoulders tighter, wanting her desperately to understand. “How could you think Dad was so innocent? Do you think he was somehow tricked into having the affair? Chloe, come on. He…” it was still hard for me to say, but it had to be the truth, “he loved her.” Claire was right, it couldn’t be any other way.

  Chloe’s gaze drops to the floor.

  “And Claire suffered so much more than we did. She sold her eggs and plasma to put herself through school. Even now, she lives in a shitty little row-house apartment in the worst neighborhood. And she works her ass off.”

  “Don’t talk about her like she’s human, Vaughn. She and Libby were manipulators, and they were always after our family’s money!”