18. Crickets
CRICKETS
PRESENT
“I can officially say that this job kicks ass,” Maggie declares at the end of our shift, eating some of the fries from the takeout containers Nico gave us before leaving.
“Not only do I get to avoid having to be stuck inside an office building all day, wearing a skirt, with people bitching nonstop about empty ink cartridges and stale coffee, but it has the best perks.”
Much like her daughter, Maggie’s mom isn’t exactly known for her culinary skills, and anything that prevents Mags from having to eat at home is for the best.
“Seriously, if not for a certain blonde douche nozzle who banged your sister, this would be the perfect work day.”
I grit my teeth at the very mention, and she sighs.
“Sorry.”
“It is what it is.” I shrug, hoping I look more relaxed than I feel. My anxiety only ratchets up the closer we get to my house. Seeing a driveway full of cars isn’t a welcomed sight as Maggie parks out on the curb.
“On the bright side, the eye candy at our new gig certainly doesn’t hurt either,” she says around another mouthful of fries as we step out of the Range Rover. “Especially the one built like a tree. What’s Reed’s situation anyway?”
“Situation?”
“Yeah, you know. In a relationship? Single? ‘It’s complicated’?”
“I’d say he’s not a tree you should go sniffing around,” I warn.
She looks more than a little confused. “You calling dibs on him?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Trust me, neither of us thinks about the other in that way.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Firstly, he has a deep-seated penchant for blondes—”
“Which I can rectify,” she says, twirling a lot of her pink hair.
“Secondly, and most importantly, he’s jailbait.”
“Bullshit.” She laughs, but her jaw practically unhinges when she sees I’m not. “You can’t be serious. He looks older than us!”
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t change the fact he doesn’t turn eighteen until September.
So unless you want to spend your summer behind bars, I suggest looking elsewhere for a good time,” I say as we head inside.
The moment the front door shuts behind us, my stepmom’s voice calls down to me in question from somewhere upstairs.
A few seconds later, she hustles out to the top of the landing, trying to put the post of a gold hoop into her ear. “Where have you been? I called you over an hour ago.”
“I was at work.” It’s supposed to be a statement, but I can’t help my inflection, making it sound more like a question. My spidey senses and paranoia are dialed up to eleven, because nothing about this is reassuring.
Blythe is always dressed nice, but right now, she’s decked out to the nines, and she’s simultaneously uppity and high-strung, even more so than usual.
“I thought you said the library doesn’t have any openings.” Is it just me, or does she sound happy about that fact?
“They don’t. I’m back at Castelli’s.”
Cue the frown.
Blythe does one even better. She groans . “How many times have your father and I told you we don’t like you being down there? It’s right near the south end of town, and all those hoodlums with tattoos and body piercings work there.”
I barely manage to hold back my eye roll. “It’s almost a mile from the south end, it’s still on Main Street, and the only person with tattoos and piercings is Reed. Not to mention, you ’ re the one who got me the job there in the first place.”
I can’t be sure if the clarification falls on deaf ears or not, because Blythe calls down the hallway, telling my father to start getting ready.
That is more than my cue to flee.
I turn to head back out the door, fresh clothes and a shower be damned, but Blythe calls out to me the instant my hand reaches for the front doorknob.
“Ali, hurry and get cleaned up. The Comptons are coming into town, and we’re meeting them at the country club in an hour.”
I try to tell her I already have plans with Maggie, but she won’t hear it. “Do you guys really need me to be there? I mean, Vanessa’s a lot better at the whole meet-and-greet thing than I am.”
Blythe’s scowl only deepens. “Ali, you’re part of this family.
It doesn’t reflect well on us if you’re always missing.
It looks like we have something to hide.
Besides, your brother’s also coming with Lauren, and she’s bringing her brother.
” It seems we can agree on something, because Blythe’s expression sours even more at that last part.
“From what others have said, it seems no one got to properly meet him at the engagement party.”
Maggie chokes on a laugh, trying to bury it into a cough, because that’s not entirely correct. One of us did meet Jase that night. Though, there was nothing ‘proper’ about it.
It appears Blythe is still trying to avoid anyone figuring out who he is, because I overheard her talking with Lauren this morning, where she oh-so-innocently suggested that maybe Jase introduce himself using Lauren’s last name to “avoid any confusion.”
Yes, because getting grown adults to understand the concept of half-siblings is clearly the issue here, and not the fact that Jase’s actual last name is considered “tainted.”
Unfortunately, Blythe knows how to sell a steaming pile of bullshit, and the last thing Lauren probably wants is to get on her soon-to-be mother-in-law’s bad side.
I left the house before hearing Lauren’s response, but I wouldn’t be too surprised to find out that the Stepmonster managed to guilt Lauren into mentioning the idea to Jase.
I have no idea what the hell Maggie will do the next time she sees the aforementioned jackass, but good or bad, I need a wing woman right about now. “Can Maggie come?”
As per usual, Blythe uses her tried-and-true tactic of pretending she doesn’t hear the question, telling me to shower and change before disappearing into the upstairs hallway.
When I get up to my bedroom, I find an unwanted gift laid out for me.
The Stepmonster had gone out on a little shopping adventure, it seems, because the gift is a little black cocktail dress.
Lovely, I’m apparently her new mannequin.
I lift the garment from the bed, getting a better look at the design, and there’s something strikingly familiar about it.
I roll my eyes, because God forbid Blythe actually waste money on me.
The dress is my sister’s, or at least it was .
She wore it three Easters ago, and it’s evidently “out of season” if Vanessa decided to get rid of it.
My sister has a couple of inches on me, but with my weight gain, I’m actually curvier than her now.
Thankfully, the material is forgiving, so it should fit.
And despite my annoyance with Blythe, I can still admit, like everything else in Vanessa’s closet, the dress is cute.
It has a balletcore style to it, with a halter neckline and a-line skirt, falling just shy of my knees.
I don’t have enough time to wash and style my hair, so I settle a quick shower and throw my hair into a ponytail.
Thank God for online tutorials, because a five-minute “hair hack” lets me add a little bit of style to it, and I freshen up my makeup.
Anytime I’m annoyed, irritable, or angry, I tend to go a little heavy on the eye products, apparently embracing my inner Emo, so I clean up the under-eye area until it looks more like an evening look and less like I’m going to a rock concert.
You’d think Blythe would be happy to see me comply with her dress code, but I’m greeted with a frown when I go back downstairs.
She’s waiting with my dad in the foyer, and the look morphs into an all-out scowl when he pays me a compliment.
I try to ignore it and take my car keys out of my clutch, already desperate for some space, but Dad insists the three of us go to the country club “together.” He says it’s so that we can spend some time catching up, but that’s kind of hard to do when Blythe dominates the conversation.
Thank God the ride isn’t long, but she still talks for eighty percent of the trip.
The remaining twenty is just my dad encouraging me to answer, only to have Blythe interrupt before I can get more than a sentence out.
Again, you’d think this would raise a red flag with my dad, because Stepmommy Dearest doesn’t ever do this to anyone except me , but when I’ve tried pointing it out, he just blames it on “stress” and that he’s sure “she’s not doing it on purpose.
” By the time we pull up to the country club’s front entrance, I’m about ready to hurl myself from the vehicle.
The second it comes to a stop, I open the back door and climb out, despite us not having pulled up directly in front.
There are still a handful of cars waiting for the valet, but there’s no way in hell I’m sitting around listening to Blythe for longer than necessary.
My excuse is that I need fresh air, which sounds about as believable as a flying pig since it’s over ninety degrees with the heat index.
But I don’t care. I’m just happy to rid myself of my stepmother, even if it’s only a short reprieve. Heading through the front doors, however, makes me immediately regret my decision.
Because I spot Patrick Bouchard, a.k.a. Prince of the Untouchables and Trent’s right-hand man.
If he’s here, it’s pretty much a guarantee another member isn’t too far away.
Since his sister is in Brazil, that only leaves the terrible twosome, and I’m not going to hang around long enough to find out whether it’s Trent or Sienna.
Waiting for my dad and stepmom in the foyer would expose me to the traditions lounge where Patrick is currently yucking it up with one of Dad’s golf buddies.