by JA Huss
“If she were your daughter… what?” I growl.
“I’d leave her alone. I’d let her have her special, perfect life. I’d let her keep her father, and her sister, and her house. Because she looks happy here. Everyone looks happy here. And happy isn’t something you can buy like a ring, or a house, or a fiancée.”
“Fuck you,” I say. “Fuck. You.”
“OK,” Wald says, stepping between us. “Let’s all take a deep breath. Joey, we don’t know that anything is going wrong. So we’re not leaving. Yet. Brooke’s right. That’s just quitting at this point. At least see it through before you make a decision.”
I look at Huck. He shrugs. “I got your back. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”
I don’t look at Brooke. I’m fucking pissed at her. I’m fucking paying her with loyalty to be on my side and she can’t even deliver on her end of the deal.
“Just change clothes,” Wald says. “At least put on a fresh shirt.”
Everyone turns away from me and goes about the business of getting ready. And this is how it’s always been.
I could be in a room filled with hundreds of people and I’d still be alone.
And that’s got nothing to do with the extent of Huck or Wald’s loyalty.
It’s all about me.
And OK. Sure. Brooke can call that whatever she wants. Self-centered or selfish. Egomaniacal. Possibly borderline narcissistic. Fine.
But that doesn’t make it any less true.
The only time I don’t feel alone—the only time I ever feel like I belong—is when my brothers are standing next to me.
And I hate that.
Because I hate them.
I fucking hate them. Johnny, most of all. Especially after what I witnessed at the Bossy Building that night. But Jesse too. Because he never gave a shit about me. He never bothered to ask me if I was OK. He went and did his thing. Left and never looked back.
And yeah. I have a bad habit of leaving too. But why stay? That was always the question. Why bother?
Johnny is never going to tell me what’s really happening and Jesse has moved on. And Zach. Zach never liked me.
So this is what it boils down to. Johnny has his secrets. Jesse has his girl. And Zach has Jesse.
I watch Huck slip on a new shirt and start buttoning it up. I glance at Wald as he runs his fingers through his hair while looking in a dressing table mirror.
I have them. I have known them for sixteen years. Have spent nearly every single day with them since we met.
And they have no idea who the real Joey Boston is.
How could they?
I don’t even know who the real Joey Boston is.
CHAPTER THIRTY - BROOKE
There’s a lot of tension in the room as we get ready for dinner. I go into the bathroom and wash my face, leaning on the vanity as I cup cool water into my hands and splash it on my cheeks.
Then find myself staring into the mirror. Just like I was before I left my apartment to go on my Bright Berry Beach interview.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
It’s a valid question. I just don’t have an answer.
Everything seemed OK until I got here. At the house it felt good. Being with them felt fine. I didn’t even wonder what other people might think of us. And I guess that’s because I’m all those things I just accused Joey of being.
The world revolves around me.
But isn’t that true for everyone?
I was too hard on him. Hell, I was maybe even kind of mean. He’s here for his daughter. This whole thing was never about me. It was always about her.
And I get that. I do. If I had a child I’d never seen and that child was living with some woman telling her she was her mother instead of me, I’d be livid. I’d be out for revenge. I’d want what was taken from me.
But I cannot get on his side about these people or this place.
Why?
I have no good reason to feel this way. I should be on Joey’s side. I should agree with him.
I just don’t.
“That’s because you want this life, Brooke.”
I’m surprised that the me in the mirror has such insight when the me outside of the mirror has none.
But she’s right.
I want this life.
I want to go backwards and live this life that little Maisy has been given. I want to be her, up in that window, waving at beautiful people down below. I want to be her, as a teenager, riding horses with cousins, or friends, or sisters around your family estate. I want those old ladies in hats to care about me. To brag about me or, hell, just gossip about me.
I want to matter to them. Someone. Hell, anyone.
I want all the things every little girl wants.
But I’m not a little girl anymore.
Maisy is, though. Maisy has that life. And she could keep it. She could remain unaware of her true beginnings. Of the father who never was. And she could grow up never knowing.
So I guess the question is… which is better?
Blissful ignorance or harsh reality?
My father, Miklos. He was a good man. He loved me, and I loved him, and my life after the age of sixteen wasn’t horrible anymore.
But it wasn’t great either.
I am not an honest person. I am not pure, or benevolent, or charitable.
This is a job. I’m not doing this out of the good of my heart. I’m doing this to buy friends. To make relationships based on secrets.
Because that’s the only way I know how to make them, isn’t it? Lies and secrets bind people together in weird ways.
That’s the only way I know how to be loyal to people.
Give a secret, get a secret. Poof. You have yourself a bond.
It’s sick.
I used to think about Esmilia when I was younger. I used to wonder if she’d want to know about me. Her replacement. I used to wonder if she helped him choose me. And that bothered me for a long, long time. Because then I was just a thing he kept for her, not himself.
And I wanted him to love me the way I loved him. I wanted to know the truth. Why me? That’s all I’ve ever wanted to know. But here’s the thing… the truth doesn’t always lead to happiness. Because if Miklos’s answer to that question was, “Esmilia chose you,” I’d never see him the same way again. I’d never feel the same way about him again.
That truth would ruin everything. All the years. All the love. All the happiness.
So maybe… I feel like a traitor for even thinking this. But maybe Maisy is better off not knowing?
Not better off for not knowing Joey is her father.
But better off not knowing Michael isn’t her father?
There’s a difference between the two and—
“Brooke?” Wald knocks on the door. “Are you ready? A footman just came to the door and said it’s time to go downstairs.”
A footman. What the fuck is a footman, anyway?
I don’t know. But I want one. I want a house that comes with footmen.
I want the fucking fairytale.
It’s too late for me but it’s not too late for Maisy.
I’m not saying Joey wouldn’t be an awesome father but Maisy Kane already has everything she needs.
And it’s real.
There. I admitted it. That’s what I think.
“Brooke?” Wald asks again.
“Coming,” I say. “I’ll be right out.”
I apply fresh makeup—just a bit of mascara and a shine of lip gloss, which is funny, since I started this week with the big dream of being a Bright Berry Beach independent cosmetics saleswoman and makeup is the last thing on my mind right now—then adjust my hair and finally slip on the off-white shift dress I brought. It’s very understated. But I had no idea what to bring when we were packing this morning so it will have to do.
I take one last look in the mirror. Suck in a deep breath. Then turn and let it out as I open the door.
All three of them are wearing
suits. Wald is wearing the same fashionable light gray one he put on this morning, now paired with a crisp white shirt instead of light blue, and a light gray tie. Huck is wearing light tan with a dark tie—very Room with a View—and Joey is wearing black on black.
He catches me looking at him. Makes a face. One I think I recognize even though he insists I don’t know him.
His expression says… Might as well look the part. And the part he’s playing today is… bad guy.
“I love that dress,” Huck says.
I’m not sure it’s a dress anyone loves. It’s that nondescript. But I say, “Thanks,” anyway. Because… well, that’s the polite response.
“Ready?” Wald asks, looking at Joey.
“Sure,” he says.
But he doesn’t look ready. None of us actually look ready.
And what are we supposed to be ready for?
What do they think is happening?
It’s just a dinner. Probably a very nice dinner. Maybe a huge overstated table that is so long it requires more than one chandelier to light it up. Probably fine china too. And flatware made of real silver.
It’s gonna be stressful because this is not really my scene, but I’m sort of excited about the dinner.
The footman, who is dressed in what I think might be called livery—it’s black with white accents and fancy ornaments—bows to us and says, “Please follow me.”
It’s a long, slow walk down the many stairs and there’s a hum of conversation filling the house. Like there’s hundreds of people here, but when we get down to the main foyer, it’s not hundreds. Maybe three dozen. Four if you count all the spectacularly dressed children.
“Hors d’oeuvres in the foyer,” the footman says. “They’ll call you for dinner.”
“Thanks,” Joey mumbles.
Huck leans in to Wald and says, “Now what?”
Everyone is staring at us and I suddenly get the feeling this is the family. These are the special people who live in this special place.
Wald doesn’t answer, but then, he really doesn’t have a chance. Michael Conner approaches us and says, “Good. You’re here. I heard rumblings that you were leaving.”
“We stayed,” Huck says.
“Where’s Maisy?” Joey asks. “She’s here for this part?”
“Yes,” Michael says. “Let me go find her so I can introduce her to your… friends.” He smiles at us. But I think I’m the only one who smiles back.
“Friends,” Huck says. “Hmm.”
“Hmm, indeed,” Wald whispers back.
But then the crowd parts for Michael Conner as he slowly leads two little girls through.
Maisy, the taller one, wearing a pink fluff of a dress with tulle skirts and a bodice embroidered with tiny pearls. And Malinda, the little one. Birthday tomorrow. Hundreds of people here to help her celebrate, wearing another fluffy dress, only in yellow.
And Joey was right about Maisy. She is lovely and so is her sister.
“Girls,” Michael says, bending down in front of them. “These are Joey’s friends. This is Brooke,” he says, pointing to me.
Both girls curtsey.
I die.
“And this is Huck.” They turn to him and repeat their act. “And this is Wald.” One more curtsey.
“Very sweet,” Wald says.
Maisy walks up to me and takes my hand. “That’s a very pretty ring.”
“Thank you.”
“Did Joey give it to you?”
“Yes,” I say. “He did, actually.”
“Are you getting married?”
I look at Joey. He smiles and bends down to Maisy. “She’s thinking about it, Maisy. But right now it’s just a promise ring.”
“I have one of those,” Maisy says, holding out her hand so we can see the tiny chip of a diamond on her finger.
“Who gave it to you?” Joey asks.
“My daddy did,” Maisy says.
Joey nods his head and stands back up.
“It was for her fifth birthday,” Michael explains.
“After my mommy left,” Maisy adds.
“She was worried I would leave too,” Michael says. “So I made her a promise.”
Joey says nothing. Just forces a smile and nods.
“It’s very pretty,” Huck says, taking over. “I like it.”
“Thank you,” Maisy says.
“Maisy,” Michael says. “Why don’t you take Malinda outside now so she can take the first ride on the carousel?”
“Yes!” Maisy squeals. “Let’s go!”
She tugs on Malinda and the crowd—who have been watching this entire encounter like we’re specimens in a zoo—parts. But then Maisy stops and turns. “It was nice seeing you, Joey. And I like your friends.”
Joey says nothing.
And then the two princesses are gone.
“The party tomorrow is going to be pretty spectacular,” Michael says. Then he puts up a hand. “I already know. It’s over the top. You don’t need to tell me. But… I truly cherish my children. I hope you can see that.”
Joey. Says. Nothing. Just stares blankly at the place where the two little girls disappeared into the crowd.
“Well,” Michael says. “Shall we go in for dinner? Everyone’s waiting.”
“Where are Charlotte’s parents?” Joey suddenly says.
“What?”
“Where are they?” he asks. “No one but you wanted to meet me?”
“They’re… here.” He pretends to look around but it’s pretty clear Joey will not be meeting Charlotte’s parents. “Everyone you need to worry about is in the ballroom right now. Waiting for us. And of course they wanted to meet you, but… maybe later.”
Joey shoots Wald a look.
And again, maybe I don’t know him well, but I know that look says, I told you so.
“Who are all these people?” Huck asks.
“Oh.” Michael looks around at the crowd. “These are family members. Conners, and Kanes, and a bunch of other surnames you probably wouldn’t recognize. They’re here for Malinda’s party.” Then he looks at Joey. “Not for you. All those people are already inside the ballroom.”
Now I look at Wald. And so does Huck. Joey is still staring at Michael.
And we’re all thinking the same thing.
Something is wrong.
“OK,” Joey says, straightening his jacket. “Let’s do this.”
We follow Michael through the crowd. And if people are staring at us in an unusual way—something that is more than a casual ‘who is that’ kind of way—I don’t see it. So maybe we’re all overreacting now? Maybe Joey’s paranoia has just rubbed off and we’re picking up his uneasiness?
I tell myself that as we come out of the crowd and head through a large—solarium? Looks like a greenhouse inside a real house? That could be the name of this room. Who knows?—then through the other side of the solarium and into a large, wide hallway.
There are more of those footmen standing guard in front of a massive double door. And while the one who came to get us upstairs looked kind of ridiculous in his fancy uniform, for some reason, these five—all wearing the same getup—look a little more… militaristic.
One of them hands Michael a white mask. The kind you wear for a masquerade party.
We don’t get masks.
“What the hell?” Huck mumbles.
“We’re here now,” Joey whispers back. “Just… be cool.”
Wald and I exchange a glance. But just a quick one. Because two of the footmen open the wide double doors and the hum of conversation that we heard coming down the stairs—but which was clearly not being made by the family guests in the foyer—stops.
And there is dead silence.
Hundreds of people in white masks stare back at us as Michael enters and Joey follows.
My feet are stuck, my mind too taken aback at the sudden switch in mood and atmosphere.
Huck takes one arm, Wald takes the other, and we walk forward together as a
team.
The people have parted. But the admiring, good-natured awe that accompanied the parting for two small beautiful girls in the foyer is gone. Hidden behind those masks are glares of animosity.
“Please!” someone yells. “Everyone take their seats!”
The crowd disperses and we end up at the top of the massive ballroom in front of a large round table.
All the tables are round. I can see that now that people are taking their seats. But the one unusual thing about our table is that it’s set for four. Just us four, I guess. And only on one side. So when we take our seats we are facing the room.
“Breathe,” Huck says, leaning in to my ear. “It’s fine.”
“I don’t think it’s fine,” Joey says. “But I’m just paranoid. So don’t mind me.”
“Welcome to the Kane family estate,” a disembodied voice says from… somewhere.
I look around for Michael, but he’s disappeared into the room. Impossible to pick out among the many white-masked faces.
“Joey Boston,” the voice continues. “Wald Wynn. Huck Newtown. And…”
I cringe and suck in a deep breath of air. Because I just know he’s not going to call me Brooke.
“Brooke Alder,” he finishes.
I let out the breath.
And then someone says, “Brooke!” And all heads turn towards a man walking up the center aisle towards our table.
I know who he is before he takes off that mask.
Even though I have not seen or heard from him since I was sixteen years old, I would recognize that voice anywhere.
My mother’s old boyfriend.
And I don’t need the woman on his arm to take off her mask, either.
I don’t even need her to speak.
I know her immediately. Like the past thirteen years never happened, there she is.
My mother.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - JOEY
“Who the fuck is that?” Huck says.
I glance at him, then Brooke. She’s seated on my right. Huck is on the other side of her and Wald is on my left. We all have a look of utter confusion. Even me, and I thought I knew what this was.
