Casey
I was forced to attend dozens of functions like this when I was younger. Before I moved out, Mom thought it was a crime if she wasn’t invited, and when she was, it was a spectacle. It’s how my nightmares of being whispered and talked about began. All the women would hide behind their hands and point, talking about me just because I was her daughter.
Each party was worse than the last as Mom’s reputation grew, and as other girls my age began attending, the bullying became relentless. My mother was the gold-digging whore who took advantage of the grieving widower. I hate how I never fully grasped that until recently, but I see now they were right. I just wish I understood Mom. What possesses her to be how she is? Why does she not see the pain she inflicts on others? What did I do wrong for her to treat me as she did?
I suppose it’s why I developed an aversion to dressing a certain way. She would force me into the tiniest, tightest materials. It was already difficult to buy dresses that didn’t make me feel exposed, but she would have me in things that should’ve been shirts, not dresses. Which was why we fought the night I overheard her.
But it was Mom who caused the ridicule I endured from the other girls. I was her daughter, so I must be like her, right? They were relentless and cruel, except, of course, when they wanted to use me to get to Jagger. Or Graham.
Tonight is different. Maybe it’s because I’m with my friends . They know me, encourage me, and love me. We’ve laughed hard tonight. Sipped our drinks and danced. It’s been wonderful.
Maybe it’s Dad and Uncle Henry being here that puts me at ease. The security they offer. The way Uncle Henry told me I looked grown up. And Dad… he danced with me, telling me the entire time how proud he is of me. I may have cried.
Who am I kidding? Tears are my pastime. I sobbed.
But the biggest difference is Graham. Even when he wasn’t sitting next to me, I felt his eyes all night. The fear and nervousness I felt about being seen together dissipated. I’m sure it’s because it’s him, but not a single whisper has been uttered. The mask vanished about half an hour ago because it was giving me a headache, and yet, I’ve been met with nothing but warm smiles and kind eyes. No doubt because they don’t want to anger the man that many fawn over, hoping he will give them the time of day—and his money.
Even now, as I stand in the ladies’ room washing my hands, the other women who have come in and out have smiled.
Perhaps these are just different people who have no idea who my mom is or who I am.
The doors open again as I’m drying my hands. I toss my paper towel in the trash and turn to leave, freezing when I meet eyes the exact shade as mine.
I hate the cold sweat that trickles down my spine at the sight of her. My hands shake. My bottom lip trembles. Air won’t reach my lungs, making my chest burn. My heart is jackhammering against my ribs. She shouldn’t be able to frighten me like this anymore, but the reaction she invokes is immediate.
She wasn’t invited to this event. Graham told me he checked before he accepted the invitation. “M-Mom, wh-what are you d- doing here?” I wish my voice didn’t quake or squeak, revealing the power she still holds over me.
“I am here with a friend and we’re staying on the other side of the resort. We came here for dinner in the restaurant, and I needed the restroom.” She bats her overdone false eyelashes at me as she tries to manipulate me with faux innocence.
My stomach turns with wariness. There’s no way she just happened to be here. Knowing she wasn’t on the guest list makes me wonder what kind of scene she will cause. But I also wonder why she’s cornering me. “You came to the restaurant and bathroom on the other side of the resort?”
“The food here is better.” She waves her dagger-like nails as if it’s common sense.
My mom is thirty-five, almost thirty-six, but all the surgeries have aged her instead of having the opposite effect. Her lips are too full, and her skin is too tight. The implants in her already high cheekbones make her face too sharp, and the three nose jobs have left her without much of one. It physically hurts me to look at her because she was so beautiful before she did this to herself. When I was little, I hoped I would look more like her when I grew up.
When I look in the mirror, I do see some of her. My big, wide eyes the same shade as hers. My high cheeks and small chin, but otherwise, I look like Dad.
“Again, you just happened to choose the restaurant here?” I lift a brow, feeling bolder, and cross my arms over my chest.
“Fine,” she huffs, waving those talons in the air again. “I was sitting down the way, waiting for you because I knew you were here. I need to talk to you, but you won’t answer my calls.”
Her calls? I haven’t received a call or text from her in weeks. Not since Graham replaced the phone I threw over my balcony. I assumed she’d either given up or decided I wasn’t worth her time.
Oh, that sneaky, slippery, beautiful snake of a man.
“I haven’t gotten any calls or messages, but if I had, I wouldn’t have answered. I love you, Mom.” It’s the truth. I love her more than she’ll ever know, despite everything. It’s not something I can turn off. “But I can’t love myself and have a relationship with you.”
I start to walk past her, but she grabs my arm, digging her sharp nails into my flesh. “What’s to fucking love, you ungrateful little bitch? If it weren’t for my benevolence, you wouldn’t fucking exist.”
Pulling my arm away, I fold them over my chest. The stance looks strong and firm as if I’m standing my ground. In reality, I’m holding myself together, shielding my heart from the venom she spews. I drop my head in a nod of acknowledgment. “You’re right, and I am grateful, but I can’t let you use me anymore.” Or hurt me, but I don’t say that. The less I engage, the quicker I can get away from her.
“You are nothing without me, little girl. You were only invited to this because of me. ” She grabs the fabric of my dress between her fingers, tugging roughly with an upturned nose and snarling lips. “How they even let you in the door wearing this back-alley knockoff.” She tosses it away with disdain and grabs my wrist. “Or these fa—” Her words drop as she brings my arm closer to her face. “What the fuck? Where did you get this?” I pull my arm away, cradling it against my chest, rubbing the pain away.
“They were a gift.”
“Did you finally learn the art of spreading your legs like a little slut? It’s the only way you’d ever get something like this.” An ugly sneer pulled her overfilled red lips. “Though I can’t imagine who’d want you.”
I stare at her, fighting the burn behind my eyes. Crying is what she wants, and I won’t give her my tears. “No, Mom. They were a gift from Graham.” She doesn’t need to know more than that. “I would never sleep with someone for just for clothes or jewelry.” I have no idea if it’s bravery or anxiety-riddled word vomit that makes me add, “If I learned one thing from you, it’s that I won’t sell myself for something so materialistic.”
The sharp sound of her hand cracking against my cheek rings in my ears as my head snaps to the side. “You self-righteous, arrogant little cunt. You are just like your father.”
My fingers brush over my scalded cheek. “I hope so,” I whisper as I push her out of my way.
“,” she calls out. “ bear, wait.”
She has never called me that. Only Dad.
I glance over my shoulder, curiosity taking over.
“I need you to ask your dad to drop the charges.”
I almost laugh. Of course that is what she wants from me. “I won’t do that.”
“What about your brother? He needs a mother.”
My lips press together, sadness burying itself deep inside me. “I agree,” I whisper. Her relieved sigh only makes the ache in my heart worse. My lashes drop and a single tear slides down my cheek. “But if the choice is between you and none at all, he’s better off without one.”
More tears spill down my cheeks as I lift my skirts and rush away, ignoring her screams. When I reach the ballroom, I search for Graham. Not finding him, I head toward Uncle Henry who’s standing at the bar with Maddox. His green eyes meet mine when I’m a few feet away. As soon as I reach him, his hand wraps around my jaw, tilting my head to the side. “What the fuck?”
“Have you seen Graham?” I ask, avoiding the concern in his eyes.
“He’s outside. Now tell me what happened.”
I shake my head as I back away, uttering one word. “Mom.”
I spin on my toes and weave through the crowd as I head toward the patio. Hushed voices bounce around me as I apologize for bumping into so many.
Outside, I quickly scan the elaborate garden until I spot Graham and Jagger a few feet away, in an unlit area of the yard.
The very sight of Graham eases the pain in my chest and soothes my ragged breathing. My panicked thoughts calm. Taking a deep breath, I walk with soft steps toward them.
But when their hushed whispers become audible, my feet stop moving.
“ will find out eventually,” Graham hisses.
“Not if you keep your fucking mouth shut.”
I move a few more inches toward them, but keep myself hidden.
“He fucking looks like you, Jagger. She might not realize it now, but as he gets older, she will figure it out. Wouldn’t you rather her know the truth than assume…”
My breath hitches. I cover my mouth with my hand, afraid they might hear my rapid breaths. Are they talking about…
“The truth, Graham. Do you think she’ll believe that?” Jagger gets right in Graham’s face. I’ve never seen him like this before. He is so full of anger and pain.
“Considering she wasn’t yelling it from the rooftops the moment it happened. And you have that damn NDA. She would never sign that shit if she knew she could claim otherwise. will…”
“Goddammit, Graham, we are not telling that her little brother exists because her mom raped me. Or that it wasn’t the first time.”
My other hand comes up, covering the one already over my mouth as a choked sob burns its way up my throat. Nausea builds in my stomach, climbing up my chest. Hot tears sting my eyes as I spin away with light movements, leaving my shoes behind so I can get far away fast. When I know I’m far enough away they won’t see me, I fall on my knees.
The contents of my stomach decorate the perfectly landscaped grass until it becomes painful.
My nose burns, and scalding tears trail down my cheeks.
I sniffle and heave some more as what they said repeats in my mind.
My mom…
How could she be so…
Oh my God! Jagger.
For all the things my mom has done to me, the things I thought I deserved, I imagined nothing like this. That she would do something so vile. And he said it wasn’t the first time. How long was she hurting him? How can he stand to look at me?
“I think you could use this?” a deep voice says as a black handkerchief dangles in my vision.
I don’t look up as I accept it with a whispered thanks. I dab it around my mouth, noticing an odd smell.
I start to comment when an arm wraps around me, and the fabric gets shoved inside my mouth, choking my screams. Another cloth covers my nose as I’m lifted as if I weigh nothing. “You made this too easy, my dear.” Hot breath spreads against my cheek as he inhales deeply. “I like it when my job is easy.”
I thrash in the unknown man’s arms, screaming at the top of my lungs. “That’s perfect,” he chuckles. “The more you fight, the faster the chloroform will work.”
Now I understand the strange smell. I go perfectly still, but it’s too late. My lids are already heavy.
I have some awareness of being tossed on my side onto something hard, followed by a sharp prick. “Sleep tight, little ballerina,” are the last words I hear before darkness takes me.