by Lucia Franco
Even though I knew she was keeping things from me, I decided to spend my free hours with Avery, who'd only gotten out of school yesterday for the holiday break. We hadn't spoke about the day she hung up on me or why she’d had such an attitude. I let it go because I missed her and wanted to spend as much time as I could with her before I had to leave.
We were in her massive walk-in closet, where she was trying on different outfits as I sat on her custom floral love seat. Rows and rows of clothes, drawers filled with accessories and fine jewelry, purses and designer shoes, all perfectly placed with a dramatic chandelier in the center.
"Ria," she said in a horribly fake Russian accent, distracting me from my thoughts. Every so often she used Kova’s nickname for me to get my attention. I laughed. "I have a rash on the back of my head. It is really bad and I do not know what to do about it."
My brows pinched together as I studied her, trying not to laugh at her terrible imitation and lack of contractions.
"Is this you being serious? Or are you being an asshole?"
Avery was staring at herself in the mirror, head slanted while she debated if she liked the tenth outfit she'd tried on. "I am being serious."
"Okay…so go to the doctor."
She turned around and walked toward me. Before I knew it, she was sitting next to me with her bleach blonde hair held up and a view of the back of her head just centimeters from my face. I pulled back.
"Will you look at it for me?" She leaned into me, and I put a hand on her back to stop her.
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
We both laughed.
"First of all, you need to dye your roots. They're almost black and resemble the color of shit."
She groaned like she was tired of my existence. "Just shut the fuck up and focus on the issue at hand—my bumps, please."
"Only because you said please," I countered and leaned closer to get a better look. There was a trail of pale bumps with a rosy undertone that formed around her ear and down the back of her neck. "It's not bad, just a light allergic reaction if anything. Maybe some prickly heat?"
She whined her complaint. "It itches and won't go away! I've had it for weeks now. How's someone ever going to want to have sex with me again with this?"
"Right…because when you have sex he stares at the back of your ear. Is this a secret spot where you like to be licked or something? If so, then I could see the issue."
Avery started laughing and turned around to face me. "No, but it's on my neck and everything."
"I can't believe you even have sex considering what a Jesus freak you are."
Avery came from an extremely religious family. They attended mass every Wednesday and Sunday and all the holidays, whereas my family never did. We didn't even attend the important ones.
She laughed again. "Of course I have sex. Although, if the next guy I meet is a strong Christian and wants to wait until marriage, I would do that."
"But if he finds out you're not a virgin, are you going to lie and insist that you are? Because lying is a sin, and you've already sinned in the Lord’s eyes by fornicating before marriage. A double sin. And if he's a strong Christian and wants to wait to have sex, chances are he's a virgin. But I guess if you lied about your virginity, he would never know, because I'm sure he wouldn’t know what a broken hymen feels like." I paused, then said, "Basically, you're doomed either way."
Avery was silent as she mused over my words. Her crystal blue eyes twinkled. A slight smirk tipped her lips, and then a full-blown smile followed.
"Oh my God. You're so right! And with all my issues, I'm sure I'd bleed in the middle of it anyway!"
I busted out laughing. "With your luck, that would happen, but that's also what I call winning. The virgin husband would never know and probably think he got lucky with a wife who knows how to have sex the first time."
Avery's head rolled back onto the cushion. She clutched her chest. "Ugh. My life is a mess."
"I think you're overstressed about the possible STD you have spreading on your neck." Avery punched my arm. "Ow! I'm just kidding. Maybe you need to read a book to decompress. And turn up the air at night so you don't sweat. I honestly just think that's prickly heat."
Avery rambled on about books she didn't like and the ones she loved. She was impossible to please, and commented negatively on everything, so I never suggested books to her anymore.
"Hell no," I said when she suggested I read a book she loved. "You have the worst taste in books. Cheesy, clichéd lines that are embarrassing to read. It amazes me you've had a secret boyfriend for so long considering how picky you are. I'm surprised you haven't found something so trivial to pick at to break it off with him." Avery gave me a droll stare. "What? You know I'm right."
"Read one of my books, and I'll read one of yours at the same time."
"I don't even have time to breathe right now, and you want me to read one of your books?" I laughed sarcastically.
"Just give it a try! At least read the sample. I know you'll love it. You just can't give me the satisfaction."
I chuckled. "No, thanks."
"But I always read what you want!"
I gasped jokingly. "No, you don't. You read three pages and tell me you can't read my book because you don't like the hero’s name."
"Well, if his name is Garth, I'm not reading it. There is nothing sexy about a Garth, Adrianna! Nothing. And I know you agree with me."
I started laughing uncontrollably at her tone and reasoning. She had a point, but I also never read about a Garth before.
"If his hair is red, that's a deal breaker for you," I added. "If he's a doctor, a lawyer, a firefighter, hell, if he's the fucking CEO of a billion-dollar company, you would tell me no."
"Excuse me for knowing what I like. A fiery, flaming bright orange head of hair and eyebrows is not hot to me. His pube hairs will be the same color, and I cannot deal with that. Just fucking stop right now, bestie."
A loud laugh burst from my throat as tears blurred my eyes from laughing. Avery joined in, chuckling over her own comments like she usually did. I missed my friend so much and wished in moments like this that we lived closer together again. Between her wicked sense of humor and array of timbre in her voice, this was more than what any book could give me.
"You'd rather read about smelly hobos. I bet that's what you love."
She nodded, agreeing with me.
"I knew it."
"You're missing out. My book is forbiddenish."
I gave thought to it for a moment. That piqued my interest, but I knew her better.
"Ish. You lie. That probably means a boss can't date his employee. Lame. And, Ave, have you forgotten I'm living the forbidden life? The book can't possibly be better than real life."
* * *
"Have you spoken to Konstantin since coming home," Mom inquired after her third glass of vodka. She was putting them back faster than Dad.
This was the first thing she'd said to me in days and it left me momentarily speechless. A feeling of doom settled on me the moment I walked into the dining room. It was the same feeling that struck me when I pulled through the iron gates only a handful of days ago. I stared into my mom's eyes trying to muster an answer. She was goading me.
The two of us were seated at the grand table, across from each other, little appetizers placed sporadically around us. Dad and Xavier were in the other room refilling their glasses. I hadn't touched one morsel of food. I was too on edge.
Steadying my heartbeat so the lie would sound authentic, I said, "No, I haven't."
It wasn't entirely a lie. I had tried to contact him after my mother ambushed me with the newspaper article. He wouldn't return my texts or phone calls. But there was no way she could've known that.
"No?" she repeated, soft and patronizing. Delicately, she twirled the glass on the table, staring me down with nothing but animosity for reasons I could never fathom. "No," she said again, so regal. "I know you're lying."
I ground my teeth and looked her straight in the eye. "I'm not."
"I should be proud with how well you've managed to live a lie. It sure isn't for the faint of heart."
It was so easy for Mom to get under my skin with her refined manners and the confident yet clipped tone she loved to use. My stomach churned viciously. I didn't like the way this conversation was going.
I subtly shook my head. "My life isn't a lie. I don't know what you're talking about."
"Want to try that again?" she asked. Her eyes were too knowing, and it made me queasy. There was no way she could've known I tried to contact Kova.
"I don't know what this is about, but I haven't spoken to him, Mom," I said confidently.
She took a long sip from her crystal tumbler and licked her lips. "You can't fool me… I know you're fucking your gymnastics coach."
I inhaled with an audible gasp, my heart nearly stopping. She said it so soft, in such a gentle tone it terrified me. Pure evil. My world tilted, my face fell. I was starting to feel lightheaded. The room was at a standstill. Our eyes bounced back and forth, she was spewing fire in my direction.
"That's not true," rolled off my breath, but no one heard me. I shook my head, I could hardly breathe. "It's not true." My heart was racing so fast and hard it hurt. I clutched my chest, trying to ease the pain. The walls started to close in, everything was shifting.
This was it. She knew.
I shook my head vehemently. "No," I whispered.
A glimmer of malevolence sparkled in her eyes, one that scared me. One I'd never seen before.
"You're a little whore."
"No, I'm not," I gritted out. I'd never been called such a vile word in my life, and it didn't take long to realize it hurt being called that when I was anything but.
I thought back to my time here so far. The times I’d left my phone unattended. I didn’t think I had to worry when I was home. But I always made sure to lock it before I put it down. And my phone had a passcode on it.
My forehead creased together, my mind running a mile a minute.
The beating of my heart was so loud I could hear it in my ears, pounding away louder than a marching band as my mom's eyes blazed with fire.
She took a sip from her glass and watched me as I hopelessly tried putting two and two together. The air in the room dropped and I grew cold. My stomach rolled with anxiety and I actually thought I might get sick all over the table.
"I found your phone late the other night, you were in the shower and it was sitting on your bed. I felt bad for what I had said…that is, until I read the text messages." An evil smirk slid across her face. "Tsk, tsk, Adrianna. Going after an older man like that. Who knew you had such a promiscuous, trashy way about you. The photos were one thing, but the video? That was icing on the cake." She sipped her vodka. "I planned to apologize, you know." Her eyes hardened. "But I don't apologize to whores."
Planned to apologize.
My lips parted and I fought to keep my face neutral. I swallowed a knot the size of a golf ball and wanted to choke. The back of my neck prickled with heat, and it was in that moment I understood why I had that gut feeling of dread when I arrived home, like it was some sort of intuition this visit would end badly.
"Always were a daddy's girl," Mom said with a slight curve of her lips. She lifted her crystal tumbler near her head. The whites of her eyes were glossy. "I guessed it on the first try."
My face fell. Dread consumed me.
My passcode was my dad's birthday.
The pulse in my neck thumped rapidly. I began to sweat. I took low and controlled breaths like I would if I was doing my floor routine. This was bad. This was very bad.
"Imagine your dad finds out? What do you think he'd do? To you? To his dear old friend?" She pouted and lowered her voice. "He'd take a baseball bat to his face, that's what he'd do."
My lungs constricted. I could hardly breathe. A sinister chuckle rolled off her lips as she finally looked me straight in the eye. She was a polished woman with a heart full of hate.
"He'd probably pull you from your precious gymnastics and send you to an all-girl finishing school." She tapped her chin and looked up at the ceiling. "You know, that doesn't sound like a bad idea, now that I think about it. I could have you out of my hair for good."
I couldn't do anything but sit there and stare. I was up against a woman with a vendetta larger than life and no way to fight it. There was no way I could talk myself out of this, not with the evidence she had.
"What? Cat got your tongue? Don't have anything to say now, Ria?"
"Mom." Holy shit she knew his nickname for me. "Please…"
"I think your dad needs another look at the photos from the newspaper again, sweetheart," she said, the endearment meant to mock me. "The way he holds you, how you look at him… It's as clear as day now. I'm sure I could request a transcript of your cell phone records for your dad as well." She paused, then said, "I was right to use the word slut the other day."
"Why… Why are you doing this?" I asked.
She ignored me.
"Why haven't you asked me for Hayden's sports coat?"
"What?" I asked, confused.
"The jacket Hayden left on your balcony. You said he was looking for it, so why haven't you asked me for it so you could bring it to him?"
My body was cold to the bone, yet my cheeks felt flushed. I chewed my lip for a split second. "Oh, I forgot all about that." It was the best I could come up with but something flashed in her eyes.
"Don't worry, I shipped it to Katja. You know, his fiancée."
My lips parted and blood drained from my face. Katja wasn't Kova's fiancée. There was no way he had proposed to her. He would’ve told me first. I know he would have. Mom was just saying that to get a rise out of me, but thankfully I played it well.
"She was so thankful to have it back since it was a gift from Russia she had custom tailored for him."
The room was thick with a mixture of hostility and bewilderment. The silence was deafening. I didn't know how to respond to the chilling tone she used. I didn’t know how to do anything but sit there. All I could do was stare at the woman who birthed me and question why she hated me so much.
"What did you ship to Katja," Dad asked curiously as he waltzed into the room with Xavier. The kitchen doors flew open behind them and servers came out carrying the first entrée. Everyone stayed silent as trays of food were removed and new ones were placed down. The food looked divine, but there was no way I could eat even a crumb with the way my nerves were on edge.
Mom looked me dead in the eye. "Just Konstantin's coat he left behind at our New Year’s Eve party."
Please, God. I will do anything if you could stop her right now. Anything at all.
"That was nice of you," Dad responded, sitting down.
"Your precious daughter is turning out to be just like you, Frank." Her eyes glistened with devious intentions that had my pulse sky rocketing.
Dad took a long pull of his amber liquid before he responded. He smiled at me and winked. "I would say that's a good thing.
"Or maybe she takes after her mother."
Her mother? Goose bumps trailed down my arms. Mom was so inebriated she was speaking in third person and not making sense.
Dad's silverware crashed to the plate. I flinched. He used the corner of his cloth napkin to wipe his mouth, then tossed it onto his plate with disgust. His chair slid back and an aura of anger surrounded him. I sat watching in shock.
"This is not the time or the place." He leveled his gaze on her and his look shook me to the core. Dad was done playing whatever game Mom had in mind. And quite frankly, I was too. "The issue you have with me has nothing to do with her. Leave Adrianna out of it."
But she wasn't looking at Dad. She was glaring at me.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Mom's hard eyes were fixated on me as she took another long sip of vodka. I don't think she heard one word Dad said.
"Put the glass down, Joy. I th
ink you've had enough for one day." Dad sneered. He was still on his first tumbler of whiskey and much more coherent than her. "We talked about this."
Xavier was in his own world, texting feverishly on his cell.
"Actually, she's identical to her slutty mother."
"That's enough," Dad hissed. He was livid and had his eyes exclusively on Mom. "Joy, you are going to regret this if you don't stop right now. This is your last chance." He pounded his fist onto the table. The plates, glasses, and silverware all wobbled from the sheer force of his hand.
He didn't faze her. She gave him a scathing glare that would make anyone tremble in fear. "I think it's time we put the truth on the table. Wouldn't you agree, Frank?" she said his name like it was coated in venom.
Xavier finally looked up. One of his eyes was swollen, but not discolored or bruised. He placed his phone facedown on the table as his brown eyes jumped back and forth between me and Mom. "What's going on?" he asked.
"If she's such an adult like you claim your princess is," Mom said, looking at Dad from the other side of the table, "I think it's time she knows the truth."
"What truth?" Xavier asked. He sounded just like Dad. "What are you talking about?"
"Nothing that concerns you, son. You have enough going on as it is, what with that little predicament you were in a few weeks ago," she said.
"Mom," Xavier growled in a warning tone. "Stop."
"Joy," Dad spoke at the same time as Xavier.
"What?" Mom said as if it wasn't a big deal.
Dad was up and out of his chair in seconds, hands balled into fists as he marched toward her. She was up and walking away from him, surprisingly fast for someone who was sloshed.
"Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on," Xavier exclaimed. His eyes were so wide all I could see were his pupils. I was just in the dark as he was.
Mom continued. "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out."
Dad’s eyes narrowed to dark little slits. "Joy," he warned. "That is enough!"
"Did it ever occur to you where your red hair and freckles come from?" she asked me, ignoring my dad. She took a long pull of her clear liquid.
