That’s Life
That’s Life
Delores
Once I finished my chores around campus, Rufus dropped me at the library ‘stronghold’.
He had to get back to his dorm to meet the triplets for whatever crazy sex games they had planned, and I was ready to sit down on the couch, snack, and obsess over the insanity that is my schedule this year.
Of course, the whole family has already done that, but I wanted a little time alone to mentally prepare myself for it.
I get why the guys didn’t want me looking at it on our mini-vacay now—I would have enjoyed nothing while I focused on what a shitshow this fucking thing is.
I’m a lot more confident than I was last year or any previous years, but the growing amount of enemies and traps has cranked my brain into overdrive.
I chipped myself in, checked all the rooms for stragglers, and finally headed into the living room to curl up with the incoming misery.
Luckily for me, Chessie left some pre-made snacks in the fridge, and the coffeemaker was ready to perk when I got there.
After I got all my comfort accessories settled, I opened my laptop and a fresh journal from my drawer so I could write my own notes on the nightmare of traps and pitfalls.
“Fitzy, turn on some classical,” I say to the new virtual assistant the crazy tiger apparently coded on the way home from gargoyle-land.
Naming it after himself was because of my schedule—according to him—but I know it’s mostly because he enjoys hearing me request things from him all the time.
The soft strains of Bach come out, and I close my eyes for a moment to savor it and how much my tiger loves me.
I have plenty to be thankful for, and I never want to lose sight of that because I have grossly obsessed people trying to ruin it.
Opening the new book, I study the evil schedule silently.
I don’t have breaks most days, nor do I have lunch.
Chessie is going to make sure I have packed lunches and snacks, plus fill my studio fridge for quick runs when I’m at the Shird.
Most of my classes require me to run back and fucking forth all day across campus, which made Coco offer to work out some special shoes with her new clothing contacts in Paris.
I’ll suffer for a little bit, but she swore people ‘owe her’, and Rufus confirmed it.
Hopefully, that means they’re coming fast and in a lot of styles, including the stupid uniform shoes.
I know that any slack I’ve been able to catch in the past few years will disappear this semester.
The Society people, including my bitch-ass mother, are gunning for me because they haven’t ground me down yet.
There’s a host of new professors on the schedule that I haven’t had classes with yet, but I sure know their family names.
That will not be fun—I’m certain they’re here to make me as miserable as possible.
Plus, this is my junior year, and I apparently have to take a bunch of ‘heir to a Council seat’ classes despite Lucille disowning me.
Besides having a class with a Faust and someone unnamed, I have a business class with a LaPorte.
Every name is a known or suspected member of the Society, but for Coach Z and Rockland.
That doesn’t even help because Rockland is one of their flying monkeys, so my only savior is Zhenga.
I know she’ll do her best, just like my guys and all my friends, but my mental health is definitely going to struggle with all this paranoia and pressure.
That’s not something others can change; it’s something I’ll have to own and do my best to manage.
Growling under my breath, I mutter, “Hey, Fitzy, why does being an adult suck so much?!”
“Adult stuff is fucking awesome, Baby Girl,” the robotic voice says immediately. “Remind you to visit an adult store this week? Add an adult movie to your queue? Listen to adult music while we fuck? Choose your favorite option.”
I blink once and then burst out laughing. Of course, this is how Fitz programmed this damn thing. It’s so incredibly him, and adorable that he wants to make sure I’m happy even when he’s not around. The assistant repeats itself while I’m wiping my eyes, and I finally reply, “Cancel, Fitzy.”
“Aw, that sucks! Are you sure you don’t want me to remind you about these options later?”
“No! Cancel, you maniac!” I shout back as I grin broadly. Waiting for a second until I know it listened, I listen to the cello in Bach come back before I murmur to myself, “I don’t know how I could love that idiot more, I swear.”
Looking at the screen again, I write out the name of the first class in my book and then list what supplies I need, what I know about the teacher, and who is walking me to and from it to the next one.
This will be painstaking, but it’s unhackable and I will keep it close enough to prevent it being stolen.
Plus, it won’t really have bad info in it, just normal observations and notes to help me get by every day.
My diary is something else entirely, though, and no one is getting that shit, guaranteed.
By the time I’ve finished my notes, I’m ready to move on to something else.
It’s not been a great day, and I’m exhausted, but since I’m alone, it’s probably time to do one of the things I’ve been dreading.
I lean my head back and look up at the ceiling, gathering my strength as I pet Jinx.
She’s come in to cuddle, which helped a lot, and I got through being furious as hell about the workload that didn’t seem nearly this big last year when Rufus and Coco were juniors.
A new curriculum, just for me, aren’t I lucky?
I wrinkle my nose at my ‘Bitter Betty’ attitude, and blow out a long, frustrated breath. If I’m going to be this angry already, I might as well do the worst thing on my list. Looking down at Jinx, I ask her, “Are you sure you want to stay here while I do this? It will not be pretty.”
She gives an annoyed ‘mrrrow!’ and I chuckle. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. To do this right, I’ll need to see and it will make everything so, so much worse than normal.”
The sand cat stubbornly settles in, almost flouncing at me as she closes her eyes.
I grin a little, scritching her ears before I grab the remote to the big screen on the wall.
Clicking the TV on, I turn back to my laptop and log in to the video chat program.
I pause one more time to clench my fists and release them before I click on Lucille’s number.
I don’t know if she’ll answer, but hopefully she does so I can get this over with.
*beep beep beep beeeeep beeeep*
I wiggle my toes in annoyance as I wait to see if my mother will answer.
Unless she’s calling me, I almost always have to wait a while for an answer.
Lucille prefers everyone to think she’s far too busy and important to be at their beck and call, so she or Mattie ignores the phone until she’s ready.
The program beeps for a few more rounds and I growl low, ready to give up when I hear the noise stop and the screen on the wall fills with my nervous looking nanny.
“Mattie!” I cry out as I feel my chest tighten. I’ve missed her a lot, but I know why Lucille made sure she was unreachable for so long. It was meant to hurt me, and seeing her is likely a taunt rather than a reward. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“It is good to see you as well, Miss Delores,” she says in her soft, cautious tone that lets me know my mother is lurking out of frame. “It has been quite a long time.”
No shit. Lucille is holding you hostage, but don’t worry—I’m working on it.
The camera on the device she’s using moves as someone snatches it, and I prepare myself for Lucille to arrive.
When it’s focused again, I see a bright blue sky and water that looks like the ocean, so she must be on the yacht.
Her big, floppy hat is red, and she’s wearing large black sunglasses that, as usual, cover most of her face.
The only thing I can see well—besides what I think may be a new nose job—is her painted red, glowering mouth.
“Delores Diamond Drew. What on earth could you want right now? I have a life, you know, even if you do not.”
Keeping my fake ‘Lucille’ smile on, I tilt my head. “I thought I would check on you, Mother. After Father’s death, it seemed prudent to check in every once in a while. Plus, I’ve often been reminded I should report in.”
I don’t really give a fuck about that edict, but I have some information I do want from her, so why not grease the wheels a bit?
“Interesting,” my mother says as her face stays frozen like the Botox Queen she is. “Well, if you must know, I’m perfectly fine without the extra baggage. I am sailing around Ibiza with my new beau and a large staff to help meet my needs in ways your father never could.”
I struggle not to make a face as the bile rises in my throat.
For one, no kid—even when they’re adults—truly feels okay with hearing about their parents’ sex life.
Next, Lucille disgusts me as a living being as it is, and I do not want to imagine her getting her rocks off with anyone.
I’m having trouble with the fact that she faked things well enough with Bruno for him to fall for whatever shit she pulled with a fucking Fae to get pregnant with me.
This additional bullshit is going to make me call that therapist again.
Not Rockland, of course, she’s a fucking moron with a search engine, not a professional.
“Well, that’s um… nice?” I stutter out. “But uh… I…”
“Delores! How many times have I told you that stammering like a fool makes you seem like you should be hidden away from the public eye and operated on!”
I’ve never heard her say that before, and she’s said a lot of nasty shit to me over the years.
In fact, though she’s threatened Bloodstone, forced cosmetic surgery, boarding school, and a myriad of other awful things, that threat is new.
I grit my teeth to prevent myself from chewing on my lip as I try to figure out just where the fuck this new, scary-as-fuck punishment has come from.
But Lucille says nothing; she just leans back and smiles in a satisfied leopard fashion.
Then I see him.
The shot widens to show her leaning against a tanned, dark-haired man wearing equally expensive sunglasses and jewelry while a cadre of young—looking women and men in tiny bathing suits rush about the deck of the yacht.
I suck in a quick breath through my nose as I watch his long black curls blow in the wind, and then he says in a heavy accent, “I do not believe that comes from you, my love. It must be your dearly departed, idiotic husband who gave her such damaged genes.”
My eyes narrow for a split second as the spunk and confidence I’ve gained in the past three years almost get the best of me.
Instead, I smile even more fakely and reply, “Very nice to meet you, sir. I’m so happy to know that you are consoling my mother in her grief.
I am doing okay as well; I know you both have to be wondering if it will affect my schooling, but it definitely will not. ”
His laugh is dark and threatening as he throws his head back.
Lucille snickers as well, and I have to wait until they finish pretending to be amused for a response.
The new man shakes his head, standing to reveal a fit body that needs a much bigger swimsuit if he’s going to move into the camera and shove what looks to be a disappointment in my face.
I’m about to lose my cool and say something again when he turns to head for somewhere off-camera. My jaw drops again when the shot is filled with his ass and back—sporting a huge fucking tattoo that I absolutely recognize without a doubt.
My mother is fucking the phony Raj of Bloodstone and his goddamn unwilling harem.