Page 57 of Unmistakably Us

Nineteen

“Damn it, seems I’m doing a lot of this lately,” January spoke to herself as she sighed and opened the door. Knowing her parents would be in the drawing room—yeah, who the fuck has those anymore? — she made her way to her room, hoping to hold off the inevitable until morning. No such luck.

Her foot paused just four feet from freedom at her father’s voice beckoning her back. Dear old Dad never really spoke to her without her mom, so she knew what awaited her.

After swiping and tapping on her phone, she dropped it in her pocket, careful not to butt dial it. January let her computer and Coach cross-body slide gently to the floor, then she smoothed her tank top and took a steadying breath. No, she didn’t need to provoke her mom, but she did this for her. Melody’s apoplectic fit would simply be a bonus.

January was sick and tired of bowing to her parents. She was an adult, but she had somehow given them the power to control her. She could see that now. It was coercion, plain and simple.

Looking back, it all made sense. When she was young, they used the all-important social standing to manipulate her. Not hard to do since popularity in middle school is life to a kid. That carried over into high school. Yes, January was just as shallow as most teenagers were…shocker.

The part that galled her most was after. College. January wasn’t under their roof any more, but she was so well-conditioned, she never even dreamed of open defiance. She had enjoyed her little acts of it, but she was having a hard time processing the fact that it never occurred to her to just say no.

Those realizations made her feel weak-willed and stupid. Andy tried to explain it and suggested she seek counseling to understand it. “It’s not your fault, you were conditioned well.” Even though she got that, it didn’t do much to alleviate her guilt or self-doubt. It did, however, stiffen her spine and strengthen her resolve.

No more. She was going through with tomorrow, but that was more for her to get lost in a fantasy of her choosing.

Her steps no sooner landed on the tile when her parents’ audible gasp brought her attention back to the present.

“January Snow Thorne, what on God’s green Earth have you done to yourself?” Her mother turned her sputtering face to her father. “Thomas, do you see your daughter? Do you see what she’s done to herself? This is to punish me. I just know it is.” Now she was talking to herself about her ever-defiant and ungrateful daughter ruining her big day. Not her as in January’s, her as in Melody’s.

Somehow, standing there as a grown-ass woman in her parents’ house, she had a revelation as sorts. She wasn’t as stupid and weak as she’d led herself to believe. She’d been defying her parents for a long time. It was in minor and sometimes childish ways, but she was never just a pushover. She’d made them work for her compliance.

“Oh, this?” January teased, running her hands along the shaved sides of her now vibrant purple hair. “I kind of did it for you. Purple is the color of royalty. I thought it fitting since I seem to be marrying into local royalty.” January tried and failed to keep all the sarcasm from her voice. Luckily, she recovered before her parents. Adopting a lost puppy look, January twirled her finger in the part that was still long enough to do so.

“I thought it would be a beautiful contrast to the white and a nice surprise to the groom. You know, show him he’s not marrying a mouse.”

Too thick, Melody?

“Did you even think how this would clash with the tone and colors of your wedding? Of course you didn’t, you only thought of yourself.” Melody threw her hands up in surrender, but January knew that was a lie. She was just reloading her verbal cannon and thinking of ways to fix it.

“Of course I didn’t think about wedding colors, Mother,” she spat the word. Gone was her faux peaceful mien. “I don’t even know what the colors of my wedding are. And yes, as a matter of fact, I was only thinking of myself. This is my wedding, after all, isn’t it?”

The little thread of power January seized from this exchange was quickly unraveling as she watched the rage build on her mother’s face. It was unlike anything she’d witnessed in the past. She’d gone too far, or maybe…she hadn’t gone far enough.

“Oh wait, that’s right, it isn’t really my wedding, now is it? I’m just the body to hold up the dress, the voice to speak the vows, and the vagina for the wedding night, which, if you’re lucky, will produce your golden grandchild.”

The slap came out of nowhere. Her mother had always been cruel but never physical. Not like that. The Thornes consider this kind of expression to be beneath them.

That one action was, for lack of a better description, the slap in the face January needed to see the absurdity of Melody Thorne once and for all. She had no real power and had used her sister and ridiculous contracts to control January, and the minute her plan was questioned, she had nowhere to go but violence.

The calm tone with which Melody spoke was in contrast to the rage that was so obvious to anyone near. “You went and got laid by some filthy trailer trash and you think that makes you hot shit now, don’t you? Probably even grew a pair and talked to someone about your contracts.” January didn’t mean to tip her hand with her visible shock, but there it was, she couldn’t hide it.

“Oh, yes, I can see quite clearly that you did. Well, let me tell you something. Our little family deals may carry no weight in the court system, but our family name does. Not to mention the business contract is rock solid, so I still own you, little girl. You will do what you’re told, when you’re told. I don’t care if that means lying on your back until the second coming of Christ to give me my grandkid.”

January couldn’t breathe. She had never seen her mother in such a state before. To think she defended her as simply a misguided parent and not the calculating sociopath that she was.

“By the way,” her mother’s voice had lost some of the menace and was now threaded with superiority. That was even scarier. “Have you read the buyout provision of the employment contract? Of course, you haven’t. There’s a copy in your father’s desk, should you feel so inclined. It’s a doozy, if I do say so myself. Your eggs will be long dried up before you get out from under it. Not to mention, I will take your sister’s personal history public myself.”

Melody chuckled. She fucking chuckled.

“We have distanced ourselves far enough from her that any social backlash will miss us by a mile, even if you try to sully us with exposing our family contracts. All people will see after we put our spin on it, is exhausted parents dealing with over-rebellious children, and one with a mental illness to boot, the most creative way we knew how.”

Fuck me, she really is a sociopath.

“Your little hair stunt there, just confirms the lengths our girls have gone to defy us.” She spoke as if doing a television interview. Complete with high emotion and concerned eyes. She wiped it all away before her parting shots.

“Now, run along to bed, dear. You don’t want to look exhausted for the fitting tomorrow. We are doing an ‘impromptu’ photo shoot. A team will show up and crash the fitting at 11:30. Make sure you are in a definite no dress but not a gaudy one then. Show people that we are just like them.”

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