Page 168 of Insincerely Yours
I need to let my sister know how much I regret what I said to her.
Vanessa suddenly goes still, her body tensing, and even though I’m not looking at her, I know something’s wrong.
I finally loosen my hold and follow her gaze behind me to see Jase and Luke standing behind us. Some silent communication must pass between her and the latter, because all the color drains from Vanessa’s face as she recoils from me like my skin’s been replaced with hot coals.
And now I’m not the only one apologizing. Luke tries to reach for her, but she jerks back from him, hissing something under her breath. He whispers back, but whatever he says, she’s not having it. That much is evident when she tells us both to go fuck ourselves before storming off. And she doesn’t do so quietly.
More than a few heads have turned our way, but I can’t let her go. Not when a sob escapes my sister before she can make it out through the side door.
Vanessa has always been able to cue the waterworks when it gets her out of a bind, like for a speeding ticket or breaking curfew, but I haven’t seen my sister genuinely cry since our mom’s funeral. Now, she’s gasping, clutching at her chest, all the way down the hallway, not caring about the others in attendance. Thankfully, it’s only the wait staff at the moment, and Vanessa ducks into the first available room she can find.
Leather, smoke, and the signature scent of Montecristos engulf me as I follow in after her, not surprised to find it’s a cigar lounge. Luke tries talking again but only gets two syllables out before she whirls on him.
Tears soak her cheeks, and her voice cracks as she tries to talk past the lump in her throat, but that doesn’t stop her from yelling.
No, Jase does that with his very presence.
The second she sees him standing behind me, she freezes, and whatever look is on his face must confirm her suspicions.
“You toldhimtoo?” she shrieks, turning back to Luke. “What the fuck?Are you just blabbing about it to everyone now?”
We all try explaining ourselves, but she throws her hands up, cutting us off.
“I don’t give a fuck what any of you have to say. It’s about what shedidn’tsay!” Vanessa finally explodes, loud enough that I’m surprised the glasses in the room don’t rattle.
But I’m more surprised to find her pointing atme.
Huh?
“Do you have any idea how many girls Trent’s gone after in this past year alone?” she snaps. “You’ll hear about someone who didn’t feel well at a party claiming to have been raped, and everybody just assumes she’s some stupid party girl who got shitfaced and later regretted her decisions. And Trent knows how to play his role. He makes sure to look just as shitfaced, so the only thing witnesses ever see are two drunk people wandering off together. Nobody would ever believe any of his victims. But not when it came to you.
“That asshole told me himself that you had him dead to rights, that you were the one person who could have put him away, but you were too chickenshit to follow through with pressing charges.” The look my sister levels at me could freeze lava. “I thought for sure he was lying, but lo and behold, I found out from Blythe that youdidclaim he attacked you, six months before he targeted me, and you did nothing!”
“Did Blythe tell youwhy?” I don’t get to continue, because, like Beetlejuice, the wicked bitch herself appears the second I say her name.
With the theatricality of a madonna, my stepmother bursts into the lounge, demanding to know what the hell I’m doing here. She pauses long enough to give a once-over before throwing her arms up in exasperation.
And if this isn’t enough of a clusterfuck already, my dad and brother come in as well, appearing to be arguing with each other.
“Have you seen your daughter, Everett?” Blythe shrieks. “No wonder why everyone’s whispering about her. She’s dressed like a streetwalker!”
Derek doesn’t take the remark too kindly, which leads to further arguing, but Vanessa couldn’t care less. Her rage is aimed entirely at me.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” she seethes. “Tell me Trent didn’t do anything.”
Our stepmother obviously doesn’t hear the entire statement, because as soon as she hears Trent’s name, she rolls her eyes. “Not this again. How many times are you going to drudge this up, Ali? What’s done is done.”
Both of my siblings exchange a look, more than a little baffled.
“Youknowwhat happened to her?” Vanessa asks.
Another eye roll. “What’s to know? She got into an argument with Sienna Hawthorne, and Trent intervened. Ali tripped and bumped her head. End of story. You can ask the police. After all the theatrics died down, she made an official statement with them confirming everyone else’s version.”
I laugh.
It starts out low and almost melodic, but I just keep laughing. I laugh and laugh and laugh until my voice builds up into a cackle. It’s maniacal, bordering on hysterics, earning me an entire room of baffled looks, save from Jase.
Of course Blythe can’t help herself, suggesting I’m on drugs or something, and that only makes me laugh harder.
