Chapter 20 Crash Out 101
Carly
Humans are a very flawed species, and my family is living proof of that.
Do I have anything against my family? No, I love almost all of them, even at times when Carson drives me crazy. He still cares about my well-being, and I couldn’t have asked for anyone else to be my brother.
But family dinners? If it’s just me, my parents, and Carson, maybe. But my cousins, and Aunt Janine? Someone, please help me from above, because no amount of ripe, unpeeled mangoes waiting for me at my apartment is going to motivate me to get this dinner over with.
All of us are seated at this adorable little Italian restaurant in Marbella Beach on Main Street called Mazzola’s, and I’ve been sitting here, waiting for my scallops to be cooked and delivered to me.
We, as a family, have eaten a shit ton of appetizers since placing our orders.
I pity whoever is going to end up paying—probably my mom, since she’s the one who suggested a celebratory graduation dinner for Carson and I.
A celebration dinner that includes everyone drinking, except for me and Carson—because I’m driving and he doesn’t drink—and my cousin Ellie, because she’s only seventeen.
“Why didn’t Diana join us, again?” I whisper to Carson, who sits to the right of me. Diana and her family were invited to the dinner, but she declined the invitation.
“She wanted to celebrate with her dad and sister tonight,” he whispers back. “She’ll celebrate with us after she drops them off at the airport.”
I wish she had accepted because this dinner could have been a lot more bearable with her interacting and shielding Carson and me from the questions Aunt Janine would ask us. Starting with the usual:
“When are you going to gain some muscle?”
It was targeted towards Carson long ago and was probably the root cause of his people-pleasing tendencies.
Then, that question would be followed by:
“Carly, when will you bring a man over to these gatherings?”
And—to top it all off—since Carson and I have graduated:
“What are you going to do next since college is officially over?”
So far, we have survived two of three questions, and I’m practically preparing myself for the third one if it comes out of nowhere.
Sometimes, I have to take another dose of Adderall before Christmas dinner just to tolerate her, but Janine Ryder-Emerson is the relative of resistance—meaning no large amount of anything can resist her pain-in-the-ass personality.
If it wasn’t for this restaurant having my favorite appetizers, I would have driven back to my apartment by now, scallops be damned. Especially because everyone feels like celebrating tonight—except me and Bailey.
She sits right across from me, a permanent glare on her face aimed directly at the mai tai in her hand.
Unlike most occasions, this attitude is due to coming off a breakup.
Yeah, according to Carson, Bailey caught her now-ex-boyfriend in bed with another woman.
My brother’s pissed about the situation, too, because he’s the reason Bailey started dating that guy in the first place.
At least he can hide it. Bailey, however, is a lightweight who ordered a fairly strong cocktail—not a good combination.
This dinner is about to head south, and we just got our appetizers.
I should be relieved that the one person who changed Bailey for the worse is out of her life. Instead, I’m more conflicted than ever, because I'm glad Jake is out of our lives. However, what Bailey had to witness for that to happen was shitty. No one deserves to get cheated on.
Not even her.
“How’s your movie star doing?” Carson whispers, swiping a piece of truffle garlic bread from in front of me.
I try to swat his hand away, but he’s too damn fast.
“Fine,” I whisper back before focusing on the piece of truffle garlic bread in front of me. Carson frowns but doesn’t push me for more details.
Thank goodness, because I cannot think about it right now. I don’t want to think about it because I’ll burst into tears about how I probably blew it with Crew. Carson only knows that I freaked out about the first kiss because I called.
My brother should know me pretty damn well, but he does to an extent. We don’t have the whole twin telepathy thing going for us, so it’s not like he can guess exactly what’s going through my brain. He’s a straight-A student with an eidetic memory, not a telepath.
“Now, Carly,” Aunt Janine begins. “What have you been up to these past two months?”
I hold back an eye roll. “Just putting myself out there,” I say just to entertain my aunt before popping another piece of bread in my mouth. “You know how the industry is.”
Bailey snorts as she sips her drink. My cousin Ellie—Bailey’s little sister—side-eyes her, while my dad, who sits on the other side of me, crosses his arms over his chest, a disapproving glare in his eyes. “Anything you want to say, Bailey?”
She hums, shaking her head of lived-in bleached blonde hair. “Nothing, Will. Just, ‘the industry.’” Her words are slightly slurred due to the speed at which she’s drinking her cocktail, but it’s obvious who she’s mimicking.
As if this girl isn’t trying to become an actress herself in that same industry. Even at my celebration, I have to keep my composure.
“I scored this internship,” I tell my family.
As I start to explain what it will entail, my eyes continue to dart to Bailey, who tries to act nonchalant.
I don’t know what it is, but something’s off.
Tossing aside how I feel about my cousin, I know her well enough to know that her blue eyes—which are pretty identical to my own—aren’t filled with anger or animosity.
Wait a damn minute, is she…scared? Growing up, Bailey’s always been an overthinker, but this is different. She grew up worrying about the future, every little step she took, but changed drastically when she started college.
I see it—the anxiety-riddled version of Bailey, the one who yearned for love and a grasp on her life and the people she loved—for a split second before she hides it, like the actress she is.
She takes another sip, and my father says nothing more.
“We’re proud of you both,” my dad tells us, raising his glass of white wine. “To our graduates!”
Everyone raises their glasses, and for a minute, it feels great to celebrate something with them. It may not be extravagant, just a dinner, but it means so much to me.
“It’s not like film is the hardest thing in the world,” Bailey mutters through her drink, almost as quiet as a mouse.
Almost.
“Do you wanna say that again, Bails?” My voice seethes with the nickname I gave her back in childhood, eyes narrowed in her direction.
I can tolerate a lot of bullshit, but I will draw the line at putting people down because of their passions. There’s no way you can insult that and get away with it—not around me.
“Oh shit.” Carson whispers, mostly to himself.
Bailey’s eyes widen, almost as if my anger just sobered her up, but I know better.
Every little restraint holding me back disappears into thin air.
“You chose a pretty bad time to insult my career, Bailey.”
“I wasn’t insulting you,” she grumbles.
“Can you tell that to the vein popping out of your forehead?”
“Carly!” My mother, who sits to my left, scolds.
I heard her say my name, but it doesn’t register entirely in my brain.
I mentally dismiss it, keeping my focus on my cousin.
“Your life is going to hell, and you choose to direct all that anger towards me? Newsflash, Bails, I’m not the reason your boyfriend cheated on you.
I’m not the reason you’re feeling like shit.
This is all on you, and one little insult towards my career isn’t going to make you feel any better. ”
My right hand feels a sudden breeze of warmth. I normally don’t pay much attention to that hand because I’m left-handed, but I know Carson is telling me to quit while I’m ahead, that we’re at dinner, and she might not remember it.
So fine, I’ll end it, but not before I—in true, theatrical fashion—deliver a final blow.
I lower my voice so that only Bailey hears me. “Just because you dated a jackass, doesn’t mean you have the absolute fucking right to act like one.”
I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders as I sit back down, and that should make me feel better. Elated, even.
But then, a wave of guilt crashes over me in an instant, making me feel guilty just for standing up for myself. I got eighteen months of anger out in the open.
Why am I now feeling terrible about it?