Chapter 7
SEVEN
Carter
“Isn’t this nice?” I swear, Dad is trying like hell to crack his teeth, and he’ll succeed if he doesn’t stop smiling so hard. “I could get used to this.”
An early dinner at a fast casual Mexican restaurant? Yes, we have definitely hit the peak of excitement around here. It takes a lot not to laugh in his face.
Really, the only thing keeping me from doing that is reminding myself he’s going away for the weekend after we get home, and I would rather not have anything getting in the way of that. I’m not trying to spread the word that the party is canceled or anything. There’s no way we’d be able to get the word out to everyone. Not the way Tiana talks. Half the world probably knows by now.
“This is nice, isn’t it?” Like Irene gives a shit. She’s ready to settle in on a beach somewhere—she’s even wearing a bikini under her sundress. The thin straps are visible every time she moves. “And if anything, it makes me look better. It’s already hard enough for people to believe I gave birth to one baby. If they see me with two kids, they’ll be even more surprised I was able to keep my body in shape.”
She’s had a little too much wine, already pregaming for her trip. For once, I have to adopt Elliana’s method of staring at my plate like it’s the most fascinating thing ever. It’s either that or burst out laughing, something I doubt Dad will appreciate. Hold it together. They’ll be gone soon.
Staring at my plate has other benefits. For starters, not having to see the look Dad gives Irene when he lets out a little growl of approval. Jesus, save me from this. Let somebody drive through the front window or something.
There’s a second or two where I almost wish I could stand Elliana, practically wedged in the corner of the booth. This is one of those moments where we could have looked at each other and rolled our eyes, but instead, I would rather use the spoon on the table to scoop out my eyeballs. That’s pretty much how I feel about her right now. Not that she’s done anything to change my opinion.
After clearing his throat, Dad manages to pry his attention off his wife. “So, do you have any plans this weekend?”
The idea of Elliana having plans comes closer than ever to making me laugh. “Not really,” I tell him, while until a few minutes ago I was making a list in my head of what everybody’s supposed to bring. “I’m going to lie low.”
“Really?” My wicked stepsister opens her mouth for the first time since before we arrived at the restaurant. “I thought I heard people talking about something big going on this weekend.”
Fucking bitch. She chooses now to find her voice and fuck with me? She’s got an actual, honest-to-God death wish. That’s the only explanation. Otherwise, why would she go out of her way to get under my skin?
“Nothing that has anything to do with me.” It takes everything I have to be casual as I reach for a tortilla chip and scoop guacamole out of the bowl in the center of the table. “I don’t know who you were talking to.”
“I would be happy to know my Elli was talking to anyone.” Irene’s brittle smile seems to make her daughter shrink inside yet another heinous sweater. This one is striped—maroon, gold, eggplant. Ugly, in other words. Everyone in this restaurant is dressed in polo shirts, T-shirts, skirts, light dresses. When is she going to get a clue?
“Your mom did tell me you were out with a couple of girls from school yesterday. It’s so good to know you’re making friends.” Dad is really laying it on thick today, probably in a great mood because he has a weekend of fun ahead of him. Fun with his gold-digging bimbo wife whose brand-new Dior sunglasses sit perched on top of her freshly bleached hair. I had the misfortune of overhearing her talking about her plans for the morning before leaving for school today. Mani-pedi, bleach, a blowout, and waxing. I really did not need to know about the waxing part.
The less I know about this entire charade, the better.
Is she going to do it? Is she going to make the fatal mistake of telling them about the party? She should know better by now. I warned her.
But when I remember the wounded puppy noise she made yesterday when I broke that box on her dresser—the only remotely pretty thing in her entire room—I can’t help thinking she’s capable of anything. Whatever it takes to get back at me.
She wouldn’t go this far. Would she? I hate not knowing. It’s not like I was enjoying this meal before now, but even the chicken quesadilla that tasted so good a minute ago is bland and dry. I have to force myself to keep chewing it.
“I could go for another margarita.” Irene winks at Dad suggestively before raising her empty glass to catch a server’s attention. “As far as I’m concerned, I am on vacation.”
A vacation from what? It’s not like she fucking works unless planning a wedding intended to drain a hard-working man of his money could be considered work. The most cooking she does is to take something from the freezer and put it in the oven, and we still have the housekeeper who comes in a few times a week. She does literally nothing but lie out by the pool and bully her daughter. Oh, and make me hate her. But that’s not something she really has to try at.
“Take it easy, honey.” Dad’s laughter is full of indulgence. “Have too much to drink now, and you’ll be asleep before we cross the town limits.”
While the two of them have their little conversation, I look over at Elliana, trying to gauge what’s on her mind. She can try to get back at me all she wants, but not now. Not like this. There is too much riding on it, including my reputation around school and the absolute ass beating Dad would generously provide. He has never found out about one of my parties. How do I know? The man can’t act to save his life. No way he could pretend to be clueless. Even if he could, he couldn’t keep it up for long without laying down the law. That’s how he’s wired.
I look his way in time to see him nod in greeting toward somebody a few tables away. Everybody knows him. People respect him. Something tells me stories about drunken sex taking place all over his house and in his pool might tarnish his reputation a little. At least, that’s what he would worry about. How is he supposed to tell other people how to live their lives if he can’t keep things like that from happening in his home?
He’s already pissed off at me over everything else lately.
Don’t do it. If you want to live, don’t do it. She thinks she has it bad now? Up to this point, I haven’t openly encouraged the treatment she’s getting at school, but that could change. All she has to do is push me far enough.
When I nudge her foot under the table, she doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even move. She’s too busy picking at the burrito bowl she ordered. For one moment, I see myself taking her by the back of the head and shoving her face into the bowl. Maybe that would get her attention. But no, I keep my hands to myself, clenching them in my lap where no one else can see. This party had better go off tonight, or else I might explode if I don’t have the chance to decompress.
It’s barely four by the time we get home, and my nerves are shredded. So are Irene’s, but for a different reason. “Let’s go already!” she whines, and I notice the way she stumbles a little on her way into the house. She grabs Dad’s arm to get her balance, but it makes it look like she’s pawing at him the way she normally does.
“All right, all right.” Somehow, he manages to sound indulgent of her antics. I don’t see how. Their bags are packed and waiting inside the front door, and he wastes no time loading them into the car while she goes upstairs to make sure she didn’t forget anything.
Leaving me alone with the freak. Do I remind her what I said in the car? It might only make things worse—she might have no intention of saying anything right now, but if I bring it up, the idea of tanking my party and my life could inspire her to make a serious mistake. The kind of mistake I would never let her live down.
So I settle for staring holes through her, watching as she sinks deeper and deeper into the shell that’s always around her. The longer she spends not acknowledging me, the more I want to hurt her if it means getting a reaction. Something about her brings out every dark, hurtful impulse in me. I can’t explain it. I only know I hate her a little more with every beat of my heart.
“All right!” Irene trills, meaning I have to pull out my phone and make myself look busy doing anything other than glaring hatefully at her daughter. She’s oblivious, though. I could probably take the girl by the throat and pin her against the wall, and Irene would roll her eyes over being inconvenienced by having to walk around us.
She comes to an unsteady stop at the bottom of the stairs and throws her arms out to the sides. “See you Monday!” She even attempts to hug Elliana, who stiffens like the slightest touch burns.
“Have a nice time,” I offer, though my gaze stays trained on the sweater-wearing freak who only wraps her arms around herself after pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose yet again.
“The two of you behave yourselves.” Irene’s laughter is light, playful, but touched with more than a little bit of deeper meaning. “I remember how it was, wanting to cut loose as soon as the adults were out of the house.”
Somehow, I don’t find it hard to imagine that at all. Paranoia makes me fall in step behind her as she struts her way out to the car, where Dad is waiting. “Don’t hesitate to call if there’s any trouble,” he says as he helps Irene into the passenger seat.
“But don’t call unless you absolutely have to!” she calls out, laughing. Dad shakes his head at her in mock disapproval before jogging around to the driver’s side. Go on, get out of here . They can’t move fast enough as far as I’m concerned. And with me blocking the door, there’s no way for Elliana to come out. Would she text Dad? Call her mom? Maybe, but I doubt it. It would mean Irene giving her a raft of shit for cutting their trip short. I’m starting to really understand the woman, how she thinks. How selfish she can be.
Not that I feel any sympathy as I turn to find the freak standing where I left her, at the foot of the stairs. There I was, figuring she would run straight up and lock her bedroom door. I’m sort of glad she didn’t, since we need to get something straight, and I’m not in the mood to break her door down. “Thought you were pretty slick back at the restaurant, didn’t you?” I murmur, looking her up and down, watching her squirm. “Not slick enough. But I see you. And I have advice for you.”
At least she lifts her head enough to meet my gaze from behind those thick lenses that give her bug eyes. “Don’t fuck with me unless you plan on seeing it through,” I warn. “And accepting the consequences. Got me?”
When all she does is hunch her shoulders, I bark, “Answer me! Do you understand?” My voice echoes, filling the space, and it’s a satisfying sound. The way she flinches adds to the satisfaction.
“Yes,” she whispers. “Okay?”
“No, we are pretty far from okay, but it’s a start. Now, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll go up to your fucking room, you’ll lock the door, and you’ll stay in there all night. I don’t wanna see you. I don’t wanna hear from you. I don’t wanna remember you exist. Understand?”
“Yeah, no problem there.” Is that sarcasm I hear in her voice? She’s lucky I have too much to do to bother with her anymore. I have a party to set up.
“Don’t even think about showing your face,” I warn as she climbs the stairs. I’m willing to overlook the way she slams her door, since it means she’s on the other side of it.
If all goes well, I won’t have to see her face until tomorrow at the earliest.
For now, time to shift into party mode. I need this. I deserve this.
“Come in! First ones to show up.” Stepping back, I sweep an arm in a grand gesture, welcoming my guests inside. “You know where everything is. Make yourselves comfortable.”
Briggs and Tucker offer a fist bump as they come in, their other hands wrapped around the hands of their girlfriends. Kellan and the twins are behind them, and the almost hungry looks on the brothers’ faces tell me how much they’ve been looking forward to tonight.
“Drinks in the kitchen?” Easton asks, already on his way in that direction, with Preston and Kellan behind him. All three of them have bags in both hands.
“The keg is out in my truck—give me a hand with it?” Briggs, Tucker, and I manage to get it unloaded, then roll it into the house on a hand truck. There are other cars coming up the driveway, blaring loud music that instantly picks up my mood. It’s going to be a good night.
Or it could be, if it wasn’t for the reminder of a certain someone I want more than anything to forget. “Is Elliana coming down?” Maya asks once I’m back inside. The tank top and short skirt she wears couldn’t be more different from my stepsister’s. They might as well be two different species. Why does she even care?
“She better not,” I mutter on my way to the kitchen for a drink I desperately need.
“Why doesn’t she get to have fun?” Wren steps up close to me while I’m pouring vodka into a red plastic cup. This little routine she’s pulling might work with Briggs, but it’s not working with me. Getting in my face, playing the Good Samaritan.
“Because she’s allergic to fun.” And I’ve already talked enough about her tonight. A huge gulp of ice-cold vodka isn’t enough to dull my senses, so I take another gulp that almost empties the cup.
“Oh, come on,” Maya grumbles while the kitchen fills up with more guests. She raises her voice to ask, “Which room is hers?”
“Are you serious?” Adding more ice to my cup, I refill it, shaking my head. “It would be better if you left her alone. You know how shy she is.”
“You have already spent too much time thinking about anybody other than me,” Briggs tells Wren, winding his arms around her waist from behind and nuzzling her neck.
She only smirks and swats at his arms. “I’m just going to say hi. Maybe take her a drink.”
Maya’s eyes light up before she pulls a fresh cup from the stack on the counter so she can pour one.
For fuck’s sake. The more we argue about this, the longer I have to think about her, so I mutter, “Hang a left at the top of the stairs. It’s the room across from mine. The one with the door closed and locked.” It had better be, anyway.
“See?” Maya winks, before picking up two cups and winding her way through the crowd filling the room. She’s halfway through the kitchen with Wren close behind before calling out over her shoulder, “Was that so hard?”
“One thing I’m learning.” Tucker takes a drink from his freshly poured beer before shaking his head. “It’s just easier to give in right away. Because once one of them gets an idea in their heads, you can’t change their minds.”
I’m starting to figure that out. I’m also starting to figure out I’m going to need a lot more to drink tonight if there’s any hope of getting Elliana off my mind.