40. Skyscraper #2
“Do you have any idea how many girls Trent’s gone after in this past year alone?
” she snaps. “You’ll hear about someone who didn’t feel well at a party claiming to have been raped, and everybody just assumes she’s some stupid party girl who got shitfaced and later regretted her decisions.
And Trent knows how to play his role. He makes sure to look just as shitfaced, so the only thing witnesses ever see are two drunk people wandering off together.
Nobody would ever believe any of his victims. But not when it came to you.
“That asshole told me himself that you had him dead to rights, that you were the one person who could have put him away, but you were too chickenshit to follow through with pressing charges.” The look my sister levels at me could freeze lava.
“I thought for sure he was lying, but lo and behold, I found out from Blythe that you did claim he attacked you, six months before he targeted me, and you did nothing!”
“Did Blythe tell you why ?” I don’t get to continue, because, like Beetlejuice, the wicked bitch herself appears the second I say her name.
With the theatricality of a madonna, my stepmother bursts into the lounge, demanding to know what the hell I’m doing here. She pauses long enough to give a once-over before throwing her arms up in exasperation.
And if this isn’t enough of a clusterfuck already, my dad and brother come in as well, appearing to be arguing with each other.
“Have you seen your daughter, Everett?” Blythe shrieks. “No wonder why everyone’s whispering about her. She’s dressed like a streetwalker!”
Derek doesn’t take the remark too kindly, which leads to further arguing, but Vanessa couldn’t care less. Her rage is aimed entirely at me.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” she seethes. “Tell me Trent didn’t do anything.”
Our stepmother obviously doesn’t hear the entire statement, because as soon as she hears Trent’s name, she rolls her eyes. “Not this again. How many times are you going to drudge this up, Ali? What’s done is done.”
Both of my siblings exchange a look, more than a little baffled.
“You know what happened to her?” Vanessa asks.
Another eye roll. “What’s to know? She got into an argument with Sienna Hawthorne, and Trent intervened. Ali tripped and bumped her head. End of story. You can ask the police. After all the theatrics died down, she made an official statement with them confirming everyone else’s version.”
I laugh.
It starts out low and almost melodic, but I just keep laughing. I laugh and laugh and laugh until my voice builds up into a cackle. It’s maniacal, bordering on hysterics, earning me an entire room of baffled looks, save from Jase.
Of course Blythe can’t help herself, suggesting I’m on drugs or something, and that only makes me laugh harder.
“I tripped and bumped my head? That’s really the story you’re going with?
” I nod slowly. “Riiiight, I picked a fight with Sienna when I just so happened to be buck-naked and she was conveniently clothed, with no other witnesses around but her friends, and my ‘tripping’ left me in the hospital with bruises all over my body, a severe concussion, a scalp contusion, stitches, and two dislocated ribs.”
Vanessa’s anger collapses as quickly as an untied balloon, and Derek’s eyes may very well pop out of their sockets if they widen any further.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you two unaware?” I plaster on the sweetest smile, my tone practically dripping in sugar as I thump myself upside the head.
“How foolish of me. Yeah, I forgot I wasn’t supposed to bring up that dirty little secret.
Just like how I’m not supposed to bring up how I was blackmailed, not only by the Eastons but also by these two assholes to my left. ”
Our father has the decency to look uncomfortable, but Blythe, on the other hand, looks fit to strangle me.
“Dad? What is she talking about?” Derek demands.
“You want to know why I didn’t do anything about Trent there, Nessa?” I do my best Vanna White impression, gesturing behind me at our parents. “Look no further. After all, you can’t exactly go after the Eastons without any resources.”
This just earns me another confused look.
“Oh, did Blythe forget to mention that part when you had your little powwow? Stepmother Dearest here told me explicitly that if I went through with it and filed charges against Trent, I would be cut off completely from the family the day I turned eighteen. No lawyers, no money, no support whatsoever. And given the attack happened only three weeks before my birthday, time wasn’t exactly on my side. ”
Finally, my dad pulls his head out of his ass, but lo and behold, it’s only to shove it up Blythe’s. “You can’t honestly believe she would do that—”
Jase does nothing to hold back his laughter, but it’s far from amused. “I’m not sure what’s worse: the possibility that you could actually be this stupid or the fact that you’re enough of an asshole to think anyone would believe your wife wouldn’t do that.”
My dad looks to me of all people, as if I’ll be the one to offer him a lifeline. “Even if Blythe wanted to, you can’t honestly think I wouldn’t step in. You know I’d do anything to protect you—”
Now it’s my turn to laugh, the sound raw. “Like you did when you allowed Blythe to decide what college I wasn’t allowed to go to?” I scoff. “You knew I had my heart set on going to CU Boulder, but one word from her, and it was off the table.”
My stepmother actually has the audacity to roll her eyes.
“Senior year made it perfectly clear that you weren’t in the best place mentally to be traveling halfway across the country, and to a place where you wouldn’t know anybody nonetheless.
If you had some kind of a breakdown, what would you have done then?
You wouldn’t have had any emotional support—”
“Like the people here ?” Now, Jase is the one rolling his eyes. “Ali could throw a rock at a stranger’s head, and they’d still treat her better than you hyenas.”
If looks could kill…
Still, Blythe turns her attention to my dad, all too ready to sink her claws into him, same as always. “And do you remember how Ali retaliated? I know for a fact that she sabotaged her interview at Redcrest—”
“Oh, I’ll happily own up to that,” I admit. “The last thing I wanted or needed was to be stuck going to a college twenty minutes from here, surrounded by the same people who only knew me as Buck-naked Birdie or The Ugly Duckling.”
Blythe throws up her hands as if to say, “See!”
But I’m not done, looking back to my father.
“What about sophomore year? You knew how badly I was being bullied, and I had the chance to transfer to C.H.S., but Blythe said no. I wasn’t allowed to ‘run away’ from my problems. And I begged you and begged you and begged you to step in, to try to change her mind, to step up for me, but did you?
You saw me slowly withering away for the next two years, and only after Trent put me in the hospital was I taken out of there.
And even then, you didn’t let me transfer.
No, you let Blythe lock me away in the house because I had become too much of a ‘PR nightmare.’”
Dad opens his mouth, like he might say something, but as expected, he’s got nothing to offer. Not even a poor attempt at an excuse.
“What about all those times she punished me for the pettiest shit you could think of? Did you ever intervene? Did you ever question her? I brought home a report card in seventh grade with all A’s and one B-plus, and that B-plus got me grounded for two months.
How many times did I come home from school crying after being bullied?
And instead of comforting me, Blythe revoked my allowance because I ‘should have been grateful to be going to such a good school in the first place.’ Did you step in?
Did you do anything when I got grounded for not washing the dishes in the timeframe she wanted?
Did you do anything when she’d scream at me and call me ‘inadequate’ and that I wouldn’t amount to anything?
“Hundreds and hundreds of times, I needed my father to step up, to fight for me, to have my back, but never once were you there. Mom would be ashamed of you, but that’s the point, isn’t it?
To not to think about her? We all know you weren’t over Mom when you married Blythe, and as some kind of way to remediate your guilt, you gave your new blushing bride full control of everything .
Make her feel special, make her feel like her opinion always mattered, make sure her authority was never undermined.
She wouldn’t just be the mother of the household.
No, you made sure she would be the queen, and you were all too willing to throw me under the bus to do so, even when she put her hands on me. ”
Derek whirls on our stepmother, his fists clenching at his sides. “What?”
Blythe tries to deny it, but she cuts herself off when she sees Jase advancing on her.
“‘I will only tell you this once,’” he hisses, getting right into her face. “‘If you ever go over my head again, you will find your life around here won’t be so pleasant. I would hate having to waste calling in a favor to get you enrolled in St. Vincent’s for the fall.’”
Blythe flinches back, looking more than a little startled.
It only has the cold grin on Jase’s lips spreading into a smile.
“That’s right, asshole. I was there. I heard every fucking word and saw everything you did that day.
You should be thanking your stepdaughter, because if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.
I would have made sure of that. If you ever lay so much as a finger on her again, I will break every bone in your goddamn hand. ”
My stepmom has the common sense to back away from him, but she still can’t help trying to save face, straightening her spine and trying to sound authoritative. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Nobody,” Jase says smoothly. “Not to you, anyway. I’m just a number. One of the nineteen you’ve blocked over the years.”
To say she’s confused is a given.
“‘This call is being recorded for quality assurance,’” he declares in his best telemarketer impression, tapping the PLAY function on his phone.
When everybody hears the standard “Thank you for calling!” greeting from our cell phone provider, a plethora of confused looks are exchanged, save for Blythe.
Her eyes widen, hearing her voice request in perfect clarity to have a number blocked on my line. And sure enough, the number read is none other than Jase’s.