Chapter 26 Charleigh
Charleigh
If Charleigh grits her teeth any harder, they’ll grind to dust.
She shifts in her seat, tries to settle, when all she wants do is crawl out of her skin.
They’re in the car, heading home from the fish fry.
Alexander’s behind the wheel, as usual. Not only because he’s always at the helm, but because Charleigh’s good and hammered
Again.
She’s pissed, of course, that fucking Monica brought the Swifts to their private club, parading them around like some prized jewels. Like she obtained the latest, most sought-after designer handbag and had to flaunt it.
He’s making Chip a desk for the home office. Costs five grand!
Ugh! Who talks like that? Like, who gives a shit?
And the way she had her paws on Ethan. So disgusting! Charleigh bets she wants to really have her paws all over him, because Chip is just a big doofus, not the smoldering sex object that her Alexander is. That Ethan is.
But she’s equally pissed at Alexander.
She gets that he was raised right, with manners, unlike her. That he’s effusive and that it’s usually all just an act, a way to keep things nice and oiled and smooth. He knows how in a twist she is about the Swifts. And forget about her—he knows how very upsetting all this has been to Nellie.
I mean, should she have uttered the word skank about Jane, barely under her breath, in front of Jane’s parents?
Hell no. But Charleigh’s proud of her daughter for sticking up for herself.
Blair was being a snot-nosed bitch, as usual, and Charleigh saw the way Jane was glaring at Nellie. Like Nellie’s beneath her.
Charleigh gets why Nellie hates Jane. She’s just like the mother: audacious when she shouldn’t be.
But the difference is Jane’s actually a looker, dammit, unlike the mother, so she does kind of have a right to the airs she’s putting on.
And Nellie can’t compete with that. With Jane’s poise, her gemstone-green eyes, her whole vibe.
She let Nellie leave the table, ride home with Dustin.
Last time she saw her, she was driving away on his Jet Ski.
Dustin is like Chip. Oafish, not exactly handsome.
But rich. And the Reeves are a tolerable enough family.
Nearly as rich as the Andersens are, but Sherry Reeves doesn’t flaunt it, doesn’t even hang out with the rest of the ladies very much.
Like Alexander’s family, she comes from old money, which Charleigh always pictures to be like ancient gold coins stashed away in some cave a thousand years ago, passed greedily down from one generation to the next.
Sherry has class, and she would rather lounge about in her crisp mansion by herself all day, gaze at the fine art on her walls, flit off to the Met in New York.
So, yeah, truth is, Charleigh sort of pushed Nellie and Dustin together.
Arranged a few “convenient” run-ins with the Reeves, hoping those two would attach, pair off: buying season tickets to the local theater, inviting the Reeves to join them for a night out, having them over for burgers, that sort of thing.
This was last year, when Nellie was a junior, because Charleigh couldn’t bear the thought of her daughter entering senior year with no one to take her to homecoming, no one to go to prom with. And let’s face it, no one was going to ask her without Charleigh intervening.
Sherry was down with all of it, also looking for a partner for her bratty, spoiled rich boy who is all thumbs.
Charleigh doesn’t intend for Nellie to stay attached to him forever, just until college, when her prospects open up and she can land someone better. More suitable husband material. But she’d never had a boyfriend, the poor thing, and needed a starter relationship.
As far as Charleigh can tell, she hasn’t had sex with him. She’s not 100 percent sure on this, but one night recently, she eavesdropped outside Nellie’s door. Dustin was trying for it, and she heard her daughter say, “Ewww, no. Get off me, Dustin. You know I’m not doing that.”
She skulked away, tiptoed back down the hall, thinking, I wouldn’t give it up for him either, Nellie. Good girl.
Now she squirms in the passenger seat again, lets out a ragged sigh.
Alexander has just finished snapping at her.
She wasn’t even talking to him, she was twisted around, addressing Jackson.
“Can you believe the nerve of Monica? And don’t get me started on that weird-ass family—”
“I don’t see what you’re so worked up about,” Alexander spat at her, his white fingers clenching the steering wheel. “Why can’t you ever just let things be? And I was so embarrassed by Nellie, the way she talked to that poor girl—”
“Oh, fuck off, Alex! You are so oblivious. You didn’t catch the way sweet little Jane was glowering at her?”
“No, I—”
“Exactly!” Her voice was jumping up in register; she felt slightly ridiculous, but once she gets on a roll, she can’t stop. “We didn’t raise our daughter to roll over, to let people shit all over her—”
She flicked a glance at Jackson, whose eyes were wide as saucers. He hates confrontation, shuts down when he’s witness to her and Alexander’s battles. Which are rare, but they do tend to happen when she’s tied on one too many.
“God damn it, Charleigh, I’m not saying that.” He hissed out a whole-body sigh.
She knew she was pushing it.
“You never see my side in all this. I wasn’t raised in some fancy family like you. I don’t have the privilege of letting things slide off me—”
“But that’s precisely my point!” Alexander shouted. “You do! I’ve given you everything—”
He loves to toss that in her face, failing to grasp just how deep her scars run.
That yes, she knows they’re on top now, but she also damn well knows how fast and far one can fall.
How precarious everything is. He doesn’t understand what it feels like to grow up like she did—never accepted, always pitied or shunned.
Forever on the outside, desperate for access and approval.
He doesn’t know the depths of ruthlessness in people like Monica and her little spawn, Blair.
He wheels up in front of Jackson’s bungalow, tires screeching as he pumps the brakes too hard. “Sorry about all this, man,” he says over his shoulder to Jackson.
That’s it.
Charleigh flings open the door, hops out. “I’m gonna have a nightcap with Jackson,” she spews. “He’ll bring me home later.”
She slams the door so hard, the window shakes.