by Tara Brown
“If you need money, can you just tell me? My monthly allowance is more than your entire year at MIT. Money means nothing to me. At all.”
“I can’t, Cherry.” He scowled. “You’re not my sugar mama.”
“No, I’m your girlfriend, and if I needed something stupid like money, you’d do anything to give it to me. I know that. Look what you did for your dad.”
“Keep your money. What I want from you is far more precious.” He kissed the side of my face as we strolled.
We were in the middle of listening to a battalion discussion when his phone rang.
“Yeah?” he answered. I’d never heard him answer the phone before. It was a strange way to answer. No hello? I assumed all English people said hello. And goodbye. I assumed their manners were better than ours.
He scowled and lowered his voice; I caught nothing but one word: guess. Was he guessing something or asking the person to guess, or was he saying I guess?
I was nosy, but that’s all I learned from the conversation until he hung up.
“It was my dad. He wants us to meet for dinner. Suggested eating out so Mom doesn’t have a chance to cause a scene.” I parted my lips to say no, but he stepped closer, kissing my mouth and whispering into the embrace. “Please do this for me. Please. She’s being unreasonable, I know that. She’s judging you for no reason. It would mean the world to me if we tried to patch this up.”
“Eating dinner with someone who hates me isn’t going to patch things up, but I guess it’s a start,” I agreed.
“I’ll owe you.” He cracked a grin.
“You mean you’ll eat with my mother and endure whatever bullshit she tosses your way?”
“Precisely.” He kissed me again. “Did I mention you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”
He’d said that word a couple of times before. But this was the first time, to my face, since the incident, that he’d called me his girlfriend.
It warmed my face and melted my heart and made dinner with his mom sound like a walk in the park.
“They’re going to meet us at your hotel at five.”
“We should call and make a reservation,” I said.
“Allow me.” He lifted the phone again, only this time when someone else was on the line, he spoke in a friendly way. “I think you might have a table open; it’s for Miss Kennedy in room four-oh-seven. Right, that’s what I thought. For four. See ya then. Cheers.” He hung up and grinned. “Your name really does do a lot. Do people ever say no to you?”
“You. My mom. My sister. My brother.” I contemplated for a second longer. “This one teacher at Paulson. He was a bit of a jerk. Though now that I think about it, I suspect he just wanted more from us. We hid behind our parents and their names.”
“He might have helped you out more than you realize,” Ashley chided. “Might have brought a little dose of reality to an otherwise unrealistic world.”
“Maybe,” I admitted, allowing for the fact I grew up spoiled and lacking conviction.
“And I think you’re mistaken about something.” He pulled me to the side of the tower, away from where our group was walking, and pressed my back against the rough bricks. “I’ve never said no to you.”
“You kinda did. You rejected me.” It was the truth, even if it hurt him. I regretted saying it and causing the look that came over him. “You told your parents I was no one when you saw me.”
“Oh shit, you saw that? I’m so sorry for that.”
“But I understand. Believe me. I’ve spent my life controlled by Cait. Well, my last six years anyway.”
“So it all changed when she was fifteen?”
“Yeah. She was always bossy and rude and uppity. She expected things handed to her. But when we turned fifteen, she got mean. The videos and pictures seem to start then, too, by what I’ve seen.”
“Did they start with you?”
“I don’t know.” I contemplated it for a second. “I guess so. I was the first one of the group to be forced to lose my virginity by her. Erica was second by a couple of weeks.”
“What changed at fifteen?”
“She and my brother broke up.” I answered honestly, but my brain got stuck there, curious about that.
We wandered the sites and ventured through the castle, and the guide spoke a lot of what he knew about the era the castle had been built in and the changes that had come over the centuries since it was built.
And while I tried to be a good listener, I was stuck.
I didn’t recall it all that well, but I knew Andy and Cait had broken up right before she started Fling Club, and it was then that she became vindictive.
Contemplating it all, I texted my chat with my brother and sister.
You guys recall anything special about the time Cait created Fling Club? It seems to me that she went from dating you, Andy, to cheating on you with that guy from Italy, to dating Brom Wendell, him cheating on her, and then she created Fling Club and became the meanest bitch of the east. But why?
Andy answered first: She was embarrassed. He’d cheated on her with that townie. Made a fool of her.
Then why make a fool of me? I was the first person she attacked that summer. And the only link to her and me was you, Andy. Did something happen?
Ella answered next: You telling her or am I?
My insides tightened. What did Ella mean? Tell her? Tell me?
“You okay?” Ashley asked.
“Yeah.” It was a lie.
I couldn’t blink—I could barely breathe—as I waited for the answer.
But it didn’t come in a text. It came in a call.
Andy was calling me.
“Hello?” I answered nervously.
“Hey.” He sounded weird, hesitant.
“What did she mean?” I closed my eyes, terrified of what was about to come out.
“That Fling Club didn’t start because of Brom Wendell.” He sounded hollow and yet remorseful.
“What does that mean, Andy?” I shouted. “What are you not telling me?”
“Don’t freak out!” he warned me. “After Brom and Cait broke up, she and I hooked up again. I begged and pleaded with her to come back to me, said I was angry that she’d cheated on me.”
“Oh my God, Andy, what did you do to her?” My entire body was on pins and needles.
“I recorded us,” he muttered. “Recorded her with me. That’s what’s on my video. It’s why I wanted it destroyed. I didn’t want you to know. Anyone to know.”
“Fuck, Andy!” I whispered. “How could you do that?” Disgust sat like a slug in my throat.
“Because I was pissed off. Because I hated her. Because I wanted to have the upper hand. I wanted to ruin her for cheating on me with the Italian. I wanted to show her that I could be sneaky too.”
“And then she bullied me into losing my virginity—bullied me and filmed me to gain the upper hand on you?” I gagged. “And made Fling Club as a means to do it all?”
“Yeah. Only she didn’t stop there. She did it to everyone. I didn’t know, Cherry. I didn’t know she was making stockpiles of movies of everyone we knew.” His voice cracked. “I thought she made up Fling Club to fuck me over, so no one would ever date me again. So she could control the summers and the fun. To cock block me. It was revenge, but I didn’t see how deep it went.”
I hung up the phone without saying goodbye. I couldn’t listen to his excuses. I called Ella.
“He fucking started this?” I gasped.
“Yeah.” She sounded as disgusted as I was. “I recently suffered through the old videos, trying to find a clue or a motivation. Then I remembered Andy had been so crazy about destroying his video. But I hadn’t given it to him yet, and he was being a dick about it. So I made Ryan watch it for me, and he said Andy kept looking at the camera, like he had orchestrated the whole thing.”
“What do we do with this?” I didn’t even know what to say or how we went about fixing this mess.
“I don’t know. I was thinki
ng maybe you should tell the girls. Tell them what happened, and then you could all talk to Cait. Together. Tell her you know what Andy did to her and how this all got away from her. Be on her side a little, even if she did sacrifice you to the plan.”
“Confront her? Be on her side?” That didn’t sound like a good idea at all.
“Yeah. Our brother filmed her losing her virginity and tormented her with it.”
“I’ll talk to them.” I didn’t want to, but I knew I had to. Ultimately Cait had been a victim of this as well. Her being fifteen, she knew how I felt. Yes, she’d made me the same sort of victim she had been, but in the end this all fell back on my brother’s lap. He started it. He lit the fire that burned all of us. “I’ll call you after I talk to them.”
“I didn’t want you to know about this until after you got home. I wanted you and Ashley to figure things out first.”
“We did.” I nodded, glancing his way. “We’re good.”
“Okay. Call me later.” She hung up.
“What was that all about?” Ashley sounded worried.
I took a deep breath and began to relay the entire conversation back to him, filling in the gaps that he didn’t hear.
As it went along, his expressions matched my words and I wondered if these looks of horror had been the ones I’d had.
How could my own brother have done something so terrible?
It was a question I wasn’t so sure I would ever have the answer to, or want to have the capacity to understand.
Chapter Forty-Two
MEET THE PARENTS, PART DEUX
Cherry
We walked into the restaurant, and I tried really hard not to feel nervous. The weird story about my brother and the fact that Ashley’s mom hated me weren’t going to undo me. I wasn’t letting this shit happen to me anymore. No more victim Cherry for everyone’s garbage.
But I refused to let my brother and his bullshit ruin one more thing for me. And winning over Ashley’s mom was going to happen.
I sat and folded my napkin on my lap, waiting for them to show up.
“They’re always late,” he said nervously.
“My mom too. It’s part of the power play,” I said shortly. I took my wine in hand and chugged back half the glass, then followed it with a deep inhale. It did nothing to calm me, though. No, I was at DEFCON twelve for discomfort and betrayal.
My own brother. Responsible for six years of hell and brainwashing. Responsible for the creation of a club that he himself said was full of sick, twisted control freaks and vapid sluts. Well, how would he defend himself now?
No. No, Andy.
I needed to focus on dinner.
Ashley’s mom hating me was solvable. I could do it.
He reached over and took my hand in his, kissing the back of it as his parents walked around the corner. His mother’s cold eyes narrowed on the kiss, her disapproval laid on thick.
His father was jovial, though, maybe enough for the both of them. He wrapped an arm around her waist and forced her forward.
“Dad, Mom!” Ashley stood and kissed his cranky mother on the cheek.
She closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, relaxing for a second.
“Cherry, lovely as always.” His father took my hand and kissed the back, reigniting the fire in his wife’s eyes.
“Nice to see you again.” I offered a smile, forcing it to stay on my lips.
“I’m starved. What’s good here?”
“Everything.” Ashley helped his mother into her seat and sat back down.
“I see they have lamb on the menu. Wonder if it’s Scottish lamb?”
“Maybe.” Ashley laughed at his dad. “I have to tell you guys something. Cherry and I are heading back to New York tomorrow.” He broke the news we’d both agreed on after the Andy discussion. He knew I had to get back and put an end to the madness, once and for all. As much as I wanted to avoid it, it had to be done.
“Oh, aye, we figured you’d be off doing your own thing soon enough.” His dad winked at me, but his mother tried to kill me with her laser eyes.
“I’m having some family issues,” I admitted. A truth I wanted to keep hidden, but offered to her as a sacrificial lamb. An American lamb.
“Really?” Her eyes widened.
“Yeah.”
“Well, did ya like Warwick Castle then?” his dad asked, not at all subtle in his attempt to change the subject.
“I did,” I said, willing to keep the conversation safe and friendly. It was different for me.
“I hate it,” he blurted. “Too many people. Too busy. Give me a quiet castle, or even some ruins, any day of the week. But that bustle of clueless turds is too much to take.”
We all laughed, and he took it from there, entertaining everyone.
Even Ashley’s mom smiled and shook her head at her comical husband. He charmed me with his unassuming nature and unapologetic tactlessness. A man passionate about poetry and his country and yet real and funny could entertain anyone. He was a gem.
Even my mother was going to like him. I smiled at that. I realized I wanted Ashley’s family to meet mine. I wanted us to date. I wanted a future with Ashley. Not the future I’d always planned on, but something not so set in stone but instead something new and fun. It had to be new, since he didn’t fit into the mold I’d been sculpted by—not by a long shot.
After we ate, I made my way to the bathroom. I washed my hands and was reaching for a towel just as she came in: Ashley’s mother. She stood in the doorway and blocked my escape.
“Look.” She sighed. “I’ve sat through this whole dinner and put on a good face, but I can’t figure it out. What do you want with my son?”
“What do you mean?”
“He isn’t one of your fun party boys. I know all about you Hamptons girls. You rich blue bloods who think you’re better than everyone else. But Ashley isn’t a pawn in a game. He’s going places. He’s going to be a—”
“I just want to love him.” I blurted my truth, interrupting her fear. “I want to help him accomplish his dreams. I want to be his friend and his lover and his girlfriend. I want to watch him succeed in everything he tries, because he just seems like that type of person. The kind who gets what he wants.”
“And he wants you?” Her eyes narrowed again.
“He does. I don’t know why, but he does. So that makes me the lucky one. Something I realize; don’t worry,” I said, serving up a little attitude of my own.
“All right then.” She nodded after a minute, stepping to the side and letting me pass. “Then I guess I have to give you enough rope to hang yourself on.”
“Challenge accepted.” I tried to not smile, which was hard. This was by far the weirdest conversation I’d had in ages. I passed her and left the washroom, certain I’d failed in making her like me. But hopefully I’d gained a bit of her respect in making her see that I wasn’t a threat to Ashley’s happiness or future. I didn’t ever want to be that for him.
When I got back to the table, Ashley and his dad shared an expression of worry. I smiled wide to reassure them.
“Did she attack you?” his dad gasped. “I checked her bag for sharp objects before we left the house, but she might have snuck a table knife away.” His eyes darted around the table, maybe counting knives.
“You okay?” Ashley asked with genuine concern.
“She didn’t attack me. She asked some pointed questions.” I glanced to where she was, coming this way but still across the restaurant. “I think we understand each other.”
“Dear God,” his dad muttered, and gave Ashley a grave stare.
“Stop looking so serious, you two.” His mother sat and nodded. “Cherry and I had a lovely conversation, and I think we’re on the same page.” She winked at me, losing all the anger and meanness.
They were so weird, this family. They talked about everything, even the uncomfortable things.
“Don’t say it like we have no reason to be worried. Ya recall the woman she ‘spo
ke’ with in the bathroom last time we were home in Scotland?” His father used finger quotations for the word spoke. “Never saw her again, poor lass. Rumors swirled that she was last seen in the Highlands . . .”
Ashley and his mother laughed, but his father sounded serious. I feigned a laugh for a second until she gave me a wide smile.
“Don’t listen to the old goat.”
“Old goat? I, who has never strayed nor loved another? And how could I? ‘But to see her was to love her; / Love but her, and love forever.’” He took her hand and kissed the back of it.
She blushed and pulled away. Feigning annoyance when it was obvious she loved him. They loved each other. It was the kind of love my sister would have. The kind Rachel would have too. And had I not met Ashley, the kind I would have always wondered about.
But he was real, as real as his dad spouting poetry in the middle of a restaurant. I assumed the poetry was Burns, which was likely frowned upon considering this was Shakespeare’s home.
“Now, tell us why you’re going home. What are these family troubles?” Ashley’s mom was prying, fully prying.
I considered lying or making something up, but they discussed the hard stuff, so I did too. “My brother is an asshole, and his stupidity is coming back to bite all of us.” I glanced at Ashley, knowing it had even affected him.
“Brothers can be stupid,” she admitted. “I have two, and neither of them has a clue about life. Or women. Daft bastards.” She nodded. I wanted to stop talking about it, but it was progress.
“Women troubles are my brother’s issues too.”
“Oh, it’s the same old story, no matter the age. I always end up cleaning after their messes. They break the hearts, and I end up pouring a glass of wine for the poor thing and listening to what a cad I’m related to. Even now with their wives.”
“Then you know my struggle.”
“I do.” She narrowed her gaze, maybe not believing we had this in common.
“My sister is the smart one,” I owned. “She’s a genius. Solves all his issues. Catches him in his lies.” I sighed.
“And yet you’re the one they all turn to. The leader in the group,” Ashley said. I wasn’t sure it was true or a compliment.
