1. Do I Really Need A Chaperone? #2
"Evening," I reply, my voice softer than I intended.
I confirm the address, and we pull away from the curb, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of color outside the window.
I lean my head against the cool glass, the steady rhythm of the car a lulling, almost hypnotic sensation.
My phone buzzes again, and I know, without even looking, that it's another string of heart emojis from Andie, or another picture of the ring from Mary Kate, or another update from Kayleigh about Trevor's adorable puppy-like snores.
I ignore it. I close my eyes, and for a moment, I let myself pretend I'm somewhere else.
Somewhere with someone else. Someone with broad shoulders and a kind smile.
Someone who's waiting for me to come home. Two someones, if I’m being frank.
The car turns onto the long, winding road that leads to my father's mansion.
The trees that line the driveway are tall and imposing, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers in the fading light.
The house itself looms ahead, a monolith of stone and glass.
It looks like a museum, a place where things are displayed and admired, but never truly lived in.
And I guess, in a way, that's what I've become.
When I open the front door, there’s someone waiting for me.
Thomas Moreland, my father, shoots me a glare that could kill a lesser woman.
“Hi Dad,” I say with a tremulous smile. “What’s up?”
He’s not at the door—never at the door, not since I was a kid.
He stands perfectly still in the center of the foyer, arms folded.
Next to him, Andie perches on the bottom step, a curvy shape in a fitted blue sweater, her hair pulled up in a twist, and in her lap a glossy monogrammed weekender bag.
There are three suitcases staged by the door.
“Oh my god,” I say, “are you guys moving out? Is it because I’m too messy? If this is an intervention, I feel like it should be in the kitchen, not here.”
Andie gives me a small, practiced smile. “Stella.”
My father clears his throat. “We need to talk. Now.”
The authority in his voice. If I was the type to obey, it would work, but I’m not. I let my bag drop onto the entry table, slow as a lizard. He waits for me to come to him, but I don’t. After a moment, Andie excuses herself, murmurs something about checking something or other, and leaves us alone.
He says: “I heard from Chief Lawson.”
A thread of dread slips down my spine. I fight it with sarcasm. “What, are you playing racquetball with the police again?”
His jaw ticks. “You were in county jail a couple months ago, and said nothing about it. I want to know why.”
It’s so sudden, for a second I think I’ve misheard. “What? Who told you that?”
“I have my ways,” he says, and he does. My father, for all his father-ness, is a lawyer down to his core. There are rules, but also, there aren’t.
“I wasn’t even in there a full night. It was like, six hours. And it wasn’t for anything criminal—”
“Stella.” He says it like a closed book slamming shut.
I steady myself. “I was at a party and the cops busted it for noise and maybe underage drinking, but I wasn’t even drinking, it’s not like—”
“That’s not what I heard. What they told me is that you got into a fight with another woman at a party. Assault. Battery.”
I swallow. “Yes, but she started it.”
Thomas shoots me a look. “You realize how childish that sounds, don’t you?”
I shrug.
“Well, it’s true! She was a total ho, and is it my fault if a bitch wants to fight? You know I’m not going to say no. Challenge accepted, bitch!”
My dad huffs with exasperation, his arms crossed.
“Stella, when will you ever learn? Violence is not the answer But enough because I need to get to the airport. So you get to county, they throw you in a pen, and then the Chief tells me you stripped for the guard. You took your clothes off for a strange man.”
A full stop, right there in the middle of the hall. The silence is absolute, the only sound the slow drip of the radiator near the door.
He waits.
So I say, with as much dignity as I can muster, “Well, they wouldn’t let me call you. The guard was being a jerk, so I did a little routine to distract him and what do you know? He likes tits and pussy, and I got out.”
His lips are a thin white line. “That’s not the point, Stella.”
I want to laugh. I want to cry. Instead, I lean against the cold banister and fold my arms. “Then what is the point?”
He exhales, and I can see the effort it takes to keep his voice level. “The point is that you are not invincible. And you cannot keep embarrassing this family. You’re not a child anymore.”
I clench my teeth. “You want me to say sorry? Fine. I’m sorry. Next time I’ll just rot in jail and see if you notice.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not arguing with you. I’m telling you how things will be. Andie and I are leaving for Lake Placid. Two weeks. I thought you could be trusted, but this jailhouse striptease shows that you obviously can’t. While we’re gone, Hunter will be staying here with you.”
I am so stunned it almost doesn’t land. “Your stepbrother, Hunter Roberts? Are you kidding? I’m not twelve.”
Thomas lets the silence do all the talking.
“Dad, I’m a college graduate. I can manage. I can live by myself, if you’d just—”