by Ward, Susan
She sets down her pencil, lays her arms on the piano, and studies me. “Why Tahoe?”
“Snowboarding with his friends.”
My mom’s brows hitch up—oh fuck, I shouldn’t have said that—and then she smiles. “Snowboarding again. A lot of that going around lately.”
I tense. I was delusional to think even for a moment that asking her to go would be a good thing. And why does it feel like my mom knows about Thanksgiving, and if she’s going to bust me, why can’t she just do it?
She grabs the pencil and starts tapping it on the wood. “Why didn’t you ask to go?”
I lift a brow. “You would have said no.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But you don’t know because you didn’t ask. In fact, you’ve pretty much stopped talking to me about everything.”
I flush. “That’s not true. I’m talking to you now.”
Chrissie drops her gaze first. She focuses on rearranging her papers. “You can go to Tahoe if you want to. That is why you’re talking to me today. You want to go snowboarding with Bobby.”
I flush. “What? I didn’t even ask if I could go.”
Chrissie lifts her chin. “You’re just trying to work up to it. Trying to decide whether to be honest or tell me a fib. I’d rather we talked honestly about the things you do so I know where you are than have you sneaking around lying to me.”
Oh fuck. She does know.
It was a mistake to come in here.
I go to the piano and settle on the bench beside her. “I’m not sneaking around. I’m not doing anything. I don’t want to go Tahoe.”
“Well, I want you to know you can if you want to.”
“I don’t!”
Crap, this is stupid.
How does she make me feel like I’ve been doing something wrong when I’m not doing anything she wasn’t doing at my age?
I stand. “I’ve got to go. I’m meeting Zoe. We’re going to the movies. Is it all right if I stay over at her house tonight?”
Chrissie’s gaze changes, doe-eyed hurt and worried. “It’s all right to stay the night. Just text me later if you decide to. And try to remember, you can talk to me any time you want to, baby girl.”
She makes one of her comical faces.
Oh crap, I’ve got to get out of here fast.
Comical face always precedes serious shit about to tumble out of her.
I roll my eyes. “You are so funny, Mom, I forgot to laugh. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I’m almost to the studio door.
“There’s a full box on condoms in my nightstand drawer, Kaley. You don’t have to ask. Just take some if it’s something you need.”
I freeze with my hand on the knob.
Fuck, I can’t just walk out on that one, not when she worked so hard to get it out. I turn back to face her. She’s just sitting there, all concerned and junk, nervously staring at the piano and rubbing her index finger on the middle-C key.
Chrissie can’t even look at me.
Her cheeks are cute-cute pink.
Inwardly, I groan.
“That is definitely too much information, Mom. And I so don’t want to know why you have them.”
Her face shoots up and her bright blue eyes lock on me. “I’m sorry. I know that was awkwardly put…and not a very good way of easing into…what I mean to say is, you and Bobby—”
Oh fuck, she’s rambling, and you have got to be kidding me, Chrissie. Really, now? When I’m almost eighteen?
I go back to the piano and kiss her on the head. “No, Mom. It was fine. You’ve said all you need to say. But no sex talk. No safe sex talk. No you-should-wait-for-sex talk. No sex talk of any kind. Can’t do it. Nope. We’re good with the location of the family condoms. I’m out of here.”
* * *
Zoe can’t stop laughing. “Family condoms.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling. “You should have seen my mom’s face. I felt so bad for her. She really did try.”
“It’s so ridiculous.” Zoe’s gaze starts to sparkle. “I think you should have stayed for the sex talk. I mean, think of who your mom’s been banging for the last twenty years. I bet she’s a wealth of knowledge. An untapped resource. Definitely better than Yotti.”
I shudder. “Gross, don’t say things like that about my mother. I don’t know how you and Yotti just talk about everything like it’s normal that you do.”
“Ah—because it is.”
“Well, it isn’t in our family. And it would have been awful. Chrissie could hardly say the word condom.”
“Probably because they’re a new invention in Chrissie’s universe. Maybe now that she’s discovered them, she’ll stop having kids.”
Zoe busts out laughing again.
I glare at her. “That was mean.”
Zoe pouts. “Don’t be pissed, Kaley. I’m just kidding.”
I struggle to hold it in, but laughter bubbles upward anyway. Zoe smiles.
“What do you want to do now?” she asks.
I shrug. “It’s really pathetic how hard it is to figure out what to do when the guys are gone.”
Zoe’s eyes light up. “We could go clubbing. Jake hates to dance. Probably because he sucks at it.”
I crinkle my nose. “Clubbing? I don’t know. It just wouldn’t seem right without Bobby.”
She groans. “You’re not married. You can go clubbing. Jake doesn’t care if I go without him.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yep.” Then she makes a face. “It means he doesn’t have to go and he’s cool with that.”
“I’ll have to stop at my house to get different clothes. All I have is jeans and shorts at your place.”
I turn off Highway 1 and start making my way through the surface streets of our neighborhood.
“Was Bobby stoked when you told him you could go to Tahoe?”
“Yep, pretty darn happy boy. I’m flying out tomorrow. I still can’t believe that when I called Chrissie to discuss flight details she was still cool with everything.”
Zoe pouts. “I wish I could go.”
I lift a brow. “Are you ever going to tell me what got you put on restrictions with the coolest parents ever, Ian and Yotti?”
She crinkles her nose. “Jake stayed over by accident. He didn’t mean to. He fell asleep and my dad saw him in the morning nude and in my bathroom.”
“Oh shit.”
“Exactly. I can’t go anywhere with anyone but you, Kaley, for the entire winter break.”
I glance at her. “Do you want me to stay and not go to Tahoe?”
She beams. “No. It’s OK. But it’s really sweet that you offered.”
I turn into my driveway. “I’ll stay if you want me to.”
“Nope, that’s OK.” Zoe frowns. “Whose car is that and what the heck kind of car is it?”
A sleek, foreign sport car is parked where the Mercedes had been.
I pull my keys from the ignition. “I’ve never seen a car like that before.” I make a face. “But I’m pretty sure it’s Alan’s.”
“So everything is good. Right?”
I slouch back in my seat. “Good? I don’t know if it’s good. My mom’s not talking to me about it. And I’m not prying because Bobby’s right. It’s their shit and it’s better that I stay out of it.”
Zoe nods in approval. “My mom says whenever I hear them fight all night that my only job is to be happy. Which is totally confusing, because I can’t be happy when they’re fighting and when I am happy she grounds me. Like she did over Jake.”
We both start laughing again.
I open my door. “Do you want to wait here, I’ll just be a sec, or do you want to come in?”
Zoe unbuckles fast. “Definitely in.”
When I step through the front door, Ethan barrels into me, wrapping his arms around my legs. I set down my keys on the console table and lift him up onto my hip.
“What’s wrong, little buddy?”
He lifts his face from my should
er. “Is Aarsi still here?” he whispers fiercely.
My eyes go wide. “Her car is gone. I don’t think so. Why?”
“I don’t want her to catch me. Don’t want to go to Grandma’s with Krystal and Eric. Want to stay with Mom.”
I kiss him on the cheek and set him on his feet. “I think you’re safe. You don’t have to hide anymore, Ethan. Where’s Mom?”
He stares up at me. “In the studio.”
I frown. “Still?”
He takes off without answering me and disappears down the hall.
“God, he’s so cute,” Zoe says.
“He looks just like my grandpa Jack.”
Zoe looks around the house with her nose slightly lifted in the air. “Something smells good.”
“Lourdes must be cooking. Are you hungry?”
Zoe nods enthusiastically. “That popcorn didn’t do it. I could definitely eat.”
We go into the kitchen to find Lourdes hard at work.
“Hi, Lourdes. How long until dinner is ready?”
She arches a brow. “Ethan has already eaten. I did not know you would be here for dinner. You will have to wait. I’m busy now.”
I peek into the oven. “Wait? Why? There’s braciole.”
“That is not for you, mi niña. You want braciole you tell me you will be here. I am not a restaurant. That is for Mrs. Harris and Señor Alan. A special dinner for them. You wait until I’m done. Then you can cook yourself a grilled cheese.”
I give her the wide puppy-dog eyes. “But it smells so good. And braciole is my favorite.”
Well, that worked brilliantly.
She doesn’t even look at me. She stares intently at the tablet beside her, chopping vegetables somehow without chopping herself.
Her eyes shift to me briefly. “It is Señor Alan’s favorite, too. That is why I make it. For him. Not you.”
Zoe chokes back a laugh, but my cheeks burn. Fuck. I’ve only been gone five hours. Everything feels totally out of whack again.
I sink down heavily on a barstool. “Where is Alan, anyway?”
She points with her chin. “He is in there.”
Zoe’s eyes glow impishly as she leans in to me. “He’s in the cabinet? Way to go, Chrissie. She’s got him hog-tied now.”
We both laugh.
Lourdes rebukes us with her eyes. “Señor Alan is in the nursery. He has been there all evening with Khloe. I have been watching. It is why I am cooking him braciole tonight. A man who does not love his children is not a real man. Even if they are as cute as Señor Bobby, you should not sleep with them unless you are positive he will love his children. Remember that, chica. Much happens in a woman’s life beyond her control. But a real man always loves his children.”
My entire body is on fire.
Oh fuck.
Does everyone know my personal stuff that I’m sleeping with Bobby?
Did they have a group meeting without me?
“Let’s bail, Zoe. We can eat out.”
I turn and her attention is glued to the tablet. She’s all mushy and emotional. She looks at Lourdes. “I’d make him braciole, too. That’s got to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen a guy do.”
Lourdes smiles. “Is he still sitting with her, crying?”
Zoe nods.
Crying?
I rip the iPad away from her.
Oh God.
Alan is sitting there on the bench with Khloe, cuddling her against his chest and crying.
I can’t breathe.
It feels like there is a knife stuck in my stomach.
My insides are roiling again.
I can forgive Zoe—she’s not thoughtless, only a ditz—but Lourdes? How could she say those things with me in the room?
“A man who doesn’t shed tears over his children will never be a good father,” Lourdes tells Zoe. “Señor Alan will be a very good father. I am not worried any longer.”
It’s like there is a pillow on my face, darkening the world and suffocating me. Without a word to either of them, I run from the kitchen. I’m in the foyer when the tears let go.
“Kaley,” I hear Zoe call from behind me.
I stop my forward motion, but I can’t stop everything rumbling through me.
Why do they lie about me and not her? Why does Alan love Khloe and not me? I’m ashamed of what I’m feeling because in this moment I truly hate her, and it’s not her fault. She’s just a baby. But why her and not me?
I’m walking in circles, shaking my hands, trying to calm the sudden rush of too much inside me. It’s a shock like seeing a horrific traffic accident. Only it’s not an ugly thing. It was beautiful, it was loving, it was right, and I hate everyone for it.
Zoe clutches my shoulders and whirls me around. “Oh, Kaley, I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“It’s not your fault,” I whisper, gasping with every breath. “But I can’t take it anymore. I can’t. This shit stops tonight. It feels like it’s killing me.”
Zoe’s eyes are enormous on her face. “What are you going to do?”
I reach for my keys on the console table, see Alan’s, and take those instead. It’s time to get him someplace away from Chrissie and have it out finally. He won’t chase after me. Not this daughter. But I’m pretty fucking sure he’ll chase after his car.
CHAPTER 19
Bang. Bang. Thud.
“Zoe Kennedy, what is the matter with you?” a voice bellows, shattering the airwaves as something hits the wall.
I jerk awake to find Mr. Kennedy standing in the open doorway, messy as if he’s just climbed from bed, wearing boxers, a t-shirt and an open robe.
Oh crap, he’s frantic.
Alan must be here.
Zoe pulls slowly from sleep, rolls over and grabs her phone from the bedside table. “Jeez, Dad, it’s 7:30 a.m.”
Ian looks like his eyes are about to pop out of his head.
He crosses to the room and sinks down on Zoe’s bed. “Really, that’s what you’re worried about? How early it is? You weren’t joking last night. You stole a Bugatti Veyron Super Sport. It’s parked in my driveway. A $2.4 million car. Have you lost your mind, girl?”
Zoe flips over toward me, eyes enormous and fixed on my face. “Kaley! We stole a $2.4 million car! I knew it was a bad idea.”
Oh fuck.
Don’t fold on me now, Zoe.
I struggle to remain calm because there is entirely too much anxiety in the room, I don’t want to get swept away in their panic and lose my nerve, and Alan’s here and it’s time to get this over with finally.
I push the hair back from my face. “Well, how was I supposed to know it was worth that much? It’s foreign.”
Ian shakes his head. “I’m not even going to ask why you girls stole Alan’s Manzone’s car last night. Get up. Get dressed. Get moving. He is in my kitchen, pissed off and demanding to speak with you, Kaley.”
An internal prick of distress; I ignore it.
My lips pucker anyway. “See, I told you he’d follow his car.”
Zoe’s eyes somehow grow larger. “You’re not going to do it, are you? I thought you were just letting off steam. I didn’t think you’d really go through with it.”
I arch a brow. “Well, you thought wrong. Of course I’m doing it. It would be stupid to come this far and not finish.”
“Do what?” Ian’s face snaps up anxiously.
“Jeez, Dad, do you have to know everything?” Zoe makes an aggravated growl and stares at her father. “Can you get out of here so we can get dressed?”
Ian springs to his feet. “I’ll wait in the hallway, but you girls better not take long. I want you in that kitchen apologizing to him in five minutes. And before you argue with me, Zoe, he can call the cops for what you did. So unless jail is what you two girls are into, you better start moving fast.”
The door closes behind him and Zoe’s panic kicks up ten notches. “Jail. I don’t want to go jail,” she wails as she pulls on a pair of sweats.
I roll my eyes. “We’re not going to jail. Alan won’t even get mad at me. Denial may be a terminal addiction for my dad, but instinct won’t ever let him do something that would hurt me. He never has and he never will. And he can’t send you to jail without me. I stole the car.”
“My dad made it sound to me like Alan was pretty mad.”
Once I’ve put on my clothes, I run my fingers through my hair, and then do a fast check in the mirror. “He won’t even yell. I promise. Try not to freak out, Zoe, and don’t say anything. Let me do all the talking. It’s all good.”
“Good? It’s a freaking nightmare.”
I let out a frustrated sigh and we race for the door.
I follow Ian into the kitchen, and Zoe hangs behind me ten steps like she’s going to cut out or something.
I falter for a moment in the doorway. Yep, there’s Alan, in the clothes he wore yesterday, standing at the kitchen island sipping coffee. The only unexpected part of this scene is the hour. 7:30 a.m. Didn’t see that one coming.
I lean back against the counter, cross my arms and meet his black stare with my own black stare.
“I believe you have something that’s mine,” Alan says, his voice clipped and controlled.
My gaze shifts to Zoe, hovering close to her dad by the fridge. “What did I tell you? Nothing. Whatever I do he never gets angry at me. I swear one of these days I’m going to explode. I can’t take it anymore.”
Zoe’s eyes flash with sad comprehension, but she says nothing.
Alan sets down his coffee. “Oh, believe me, Kaley, I am very angry. I just prefer not to yell in Ian’s kitchen. Go grab your things. Get in the car. We’ll go somewhere where we can both yell until you can explain to me what stealing my car is about.”
Nope, last thing I want is to end this now. I search for something to say that will piss him off.
“Did you have a nice night with my mother?”
That worked.
His face reddens.
“That’s what this is about? You stole my car because you’re angry that I spent the night with your mother?”
I take a moment to look around the kitchen, making sure Alan knows I’m in control of this and that he isn’t, and then I shift my gaze back to him.
“Why should I be angry about that?” I jeer, but maintain an air of indifference. “You’ve used my mom as an emotional crash pad my entire life. I’ve watched this movie before. I know how it ends. So why don’t you leave before you fuck up my family even more than it is already?”
