Chapter 16 Willow
WILLOW
Ransom frowns, looking worried, and my gut twists.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He told me no one was going to get hurt in their job for X, but maybe things went off the rails somehow. Maybe by getting them tickets for the event, I unwittingly put everyone here in danger.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my gaze shooting toward the door.
“I don’t know.” Ransom rises smoothly from the bench and takes my hand, helping me up. “Come on. We need to find out what’s up.”
I nod, letting him lead me out of the bathroom and back into the main area where most of the guests are still milling around.
We rejoin the crowd, and Ransom pushes his way through until we can see the source of all the commotion.
My heart lurches in my chest as soon as I see what’s going on.
It’s not something to do with the Voronin brothers at all. It’s my mom.
She’s near the large entryway, making a scene, and it feels like my stomach drops out of my body.
What the hell?
I vaguely remember telling her I was coming to this event, but I thought she was too out of it to care. And I definitely didn’t think she’d decide to show up.
Misty is “dressed up,” but it’s nothing like what everyone else is wearing.
Her makeup is thick and caked on, eyeshadow and lipstick in bright colors that cover the pallor of her face.
And her clothes are… barely clothes. She has on a short leather skirt, skintight and shiny, and it looks like if she bent over, she’d flash her probably bare crotch to everyone gathered.
Her shirt is mostly a halter top, showing off the curves of her chest and leaving nothing to the imagination.
She looks like the most stereotypical version of a hooker, gaudy, revealing, and tacky, and she’s yelling at a woman wearing a name tag with the museum’s logo on it, one long painted fingernail waving in her face.
“Ma’am,” the woman says again, her tone polite but firm. “As I’ve said, you’re not on the list. This is a private function. The new wing of the museum will be open to the public starting on Monday. Until then, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Fuck you!” Misty screeches. She stumbles a bit in the heeled boots she’s wearing, glaring daggers into the woman’s face. “You can’t keep me out! I deserve to be here.”
She’s slurring her words, which is a clear sign that she’s high on something, and my heart clenches.
Two uniformed guards push their way through the crowd and come to stand with the woman who’s been dealing with Misty. They’re big guys, and they fold their arms, looking down at my mother.
“Ma’am, you have to go,” one of them informs her.
Misty spits on the ground in front of him.
“You don’t tell me what to do. None of you do!
” She looks past the guards to the people gathered around watching this scene play out.
“You’re all a bunch of stuck up ass kissers.
Walking around here with your spoons shoved so far up your asses you’re spitting silver.
You’re not better than me! Especially not you, you tacky bitch. ”
That last bit is directed to the woman with the name tag, who looks helplessly at the guards.
Fuck. I’ve seen enough.
I step away from Ransom and hurry forward, hoping to defuse this before it gets any worse.
As soon as she sees me, Misty perks up, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.
“See?” she says, jabbing her finger in my direction. “That’s my daughter. I raised her. I took care of her. I gave her fucking everything. If she’s here, then I should be here too.”
My face immediately floods red. Everyone is watching me now, and I can just imagine what they’re thinking. They’re looking at the two of us like we’re trash, like we’re some crazy freakshow.
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I don’t have time to cry now. That’ll be for later, once I know how much damage my mom has done.
“Stop it,” I tell her, grabbing her arm as I reach her. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to rub elbows with the rich and fa-ancy,” Misty slurs, giggling a little. “I came to drink champagne with my baby girl. Don’t you want me here?”
Rather than answering, I tug on her arm to try to get her to come with me, but she yanks herself out of my hold, refusing to budge.
“I’m so sorry about this,” I say to the woman from the museum. “She’s…”
The woman doesn’t reply, just stares at me, and my heart sinks. Before this, I was Olivia Stanton’s granddaughter, and a guest people were eager to meet. Now I’m just the daughter of a hooker who’s high out of her mind and making a scene.
“If she doesn’t leave, I’m going to have to call the police,” the woman says, her voice turning cool.
I nod, then shift my attention back to my mom. “You have to go,” I tell her, keeping my voice quiet. “You don’t have a ticket, so they can’t let you in. Just go, okay? Don’t make this any worse.”
“Oh, don’t make it any worse?” Misty scowls, her mood switching from happy to pissed off in the blink of an eye as it often does when she’s like this. “You think I just make things worse, huh? Is that why you don’t want me here? Did you tell them to keep me out? Your own mother?”
She pushes away from me, trying to rush the guards and get farther inside, but they’re too big for her to move, and they grab her easily.
“Hey! Let go!”
She fights, kicking and twisting in their hold as they escort her outside and down the stairs. Most of the guests stay inside, but a few onlookers follow me as I step outside. The woman from the museum calls the police, and the guards hold on to my mom, keeping her contained until the cops show up.
Blue and red lights flash, and my mother finally stops struggling, calming down a little as two cops step forward to speak to her and the guards.
Part of me thinks I should stay out there with her and make sure it all works out okay, but a bigger part of me doesn’t want anything to do with her right now, angry and hurt by her behavior. I listen to that part, slinking back into the museum with the rest of the guests.
The large space where the event is being held feels strangely quiet, everyone speaking in muted voices as they gather in tight clusters to gossip.
Ransom, Malice, and Victor are standing by the door, and I see Ransom move like he’s about to come toward me, but I shake my head, giving him a tight smile.
I don’t know if I could handle him talking to me right now, seeing the sympathy burning in his eyes, without breaking down and crying.
I scan the room, searching for Olivia, but before I can find her, someone clears their throat into a microphone.
That gets the attention of everyone gathered, and a pretty, dark-skinned woman in an evening gown smiles from the head of the room.
“Hello, everyone, and good evening,” she says, sounding cheerful in a forced way. “Sorry for the, uh, interruption, and thank you all so much for coming out tonight. The Museum of Contemporary Art has stood as a pillar in the cultural scene of this city for…”
I tune out most of her speech, letting the words about the history of the museum wash over me. It’s clear that she’s trying to move on from the scene that just happened, glossing over it to reset the evening and get things back on track.
“We’re especially excited tonight to be unveiling a new wing, and to allow you all to have the first look.
Thanks to donations from patrons like you and the tireless work of our team, we’re so pleased to announce that the Museum of Contemporary Art will now have a section devoted purely to displaying the work of local artists.
Some pieces will become permanent parts of our collection, while others will rotate out on a quarterly basis, so that we can truly highlight the talent Detroit has to offer. ”
Everyone applauds, and I clap along with them, still in a daze. The section that had been blocked off is unveiled, and people mingle as they walk through, admiring the art of local artists and discussing the unveiling.
It doesn’t seem like anyone is still talking about what happened, but I know none of them have forgotten it.
The event lasts for another hour or so, but I lose track of time. It’s all a blur, and every so often, I catch people looking at me. They always look away when I glance in their direction, but I know what they must be thinking.
I’m an imposter. I don’t belong here.
Troy glances at me and sneers, and there’s so much disdain and mockery in his expression that it makes my stomach sour.
I go on autopilot for the rest of the night, tapping into the skill I developed when I lived at Misty’s house, trying to do my homework in my room while she ‘entertained’ johns down the hall. All I want is for this all to be over soon.
Eventually, the night comes to an end, and people start leaving. I’m desperate to get out of here, and when someone comes up and touches me on the shoulder as I slip out the door, I jump in surprise.
It’s Olivia. She’s given me space all night, not ushering me around the room to meet her friends and acquaintances like she did earlier, and I have no idea if it’s because she’s ashamed to have them meet me now or because she knows I wasn’t up for it.
Either way, seeing her makes me want to cry all over again.
“Heading out?” she asks.
I nod. “I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “I didn’t know she was going to show up tonight. I didn’t… I would never have told Misty to come here. And since everyone knows I’m your granddaughter, they’re going to think you’re a part of all of this, and… I’m just really sorry.”
The words come out in a jumbled mess, and I fall silent once I’m done, my heart in my throat. I expect Olivia to be angry or annoyed. After all the work she did trying to help me fit in here, introducing me to everyone and getting me and the Voronin brothers on the list in the first place.
And this is how I repay her kindness? How could she not be angry about that?
But instead of snapping at me or lecturing me, she gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“It wasn’t the highlight of the evening,” she admits, grimacing slightly.
“However, it also wasn’t your fault. You don’t have to pay for the mistakes of others, Willow.
You had no say in who adopted you, and I’m honestly quite impressed that you managed to keep yourself together so well, given your upbringing. ”
I wrap my arms around myself as a light breeze ruffles my hair, at a loss for what to say to that.
I’m so used to people lumping me in with my adoptive mother, assuming I’ll turn out just like her or already am like her, that it feels strange to have my grandmother see me for myself and treat me like my own person.
Olivia pulls me into a hug, holding me close. She smells like a comforting mix of fresh flowers and perfume, and I wrap my arms around her, a lump rising in my throat.
“Don’t let this get you down,” she murmurs. “It’s alright. Everyone who met you tonight was very impressed.”
We separate, and I take a deep breath, trying to take her words to heart.
“People won’t hold your adopted family against you,” she promises. “Not when they’ve seen how delightful you are.” Her smile grows, her hazel eyes twinkling a bit. “Joshua Powell seemed quite taken with you, for example.”
I flush. Joshua was nice enough when we spoke earlier, but I haven’t seen him since my mom’s outburst.
“Thank you… for everything,” I tell Olivia. “For bringing me here.”
“Of course.”
Movement in my periphery catches my attention, and I glance over to see the Voronin brothers heading down the steps, going to get their car from the valet. I watch them go, then look back to Olivia.
“I hope your friends had a good time as well,” she says.
There’s no inflection on the word friends or anything, so I still don’t know how she feels about the fact that I wanted to invite them.
Has she picked up on anything between us, or does she think they’re just people I knew in my old life?
Maybe she thinks allowing them to stay in my life will help me navigate the divide between who I used to be and who I am now.
I twist my fingers together, trying not to blush or think about what Malice did to me upstairs or how I kissed Ransom in the bathroom.
“Yeah, I think they did,” I tell her.
“Then it was all worth it.” Olivia takes my hand, her fingers soft and dry. “Keep your chin up, dear. You did wonderfully tonight, and I’m very proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I murmur again.
She smiles at me one last time and then turns to head back into the museum. I follow the path that Malice, Ransom, and Vic took, going to the valet to get them to bring my car around.
As I pull away, I see the Voronin brothers pulling out too, and my heart tugs a little. I don’t know when I’ll see them again, since it’s not like I have a reason to after this.
That should be a relief. I shouldn’t want to be around them.
But instead, it just makes me feel like there’s a hole in my heart.