Page 93 of Payback
“DARLING, ARE YOU SURE YOUwant to do this?” my father asks as I turn around in a red, satin, floor-length ball gown that magically fits me like a glove.
“I’m positive,” I state, taking one last look at myself in the bathroom mirror.
My hair is curled in loose waves down my back, and my dramatic smoky eyes and sky-high, fuck-me-heels bring back a memory that I never want to forget. When I arrived in Chicago less than twenty-four hours ago, I never thought this would happen.
The day started off awesome because I went out for brunch with my dad and we talked.Reallytalked for the first time in what felt like years. He asked me about my job back in London and I caught him up on all the Harrises and their growing little families. After beating around the bush, he finally brought up the video. No, my father did not watch the video.Thank. God.But Rosalie did send him the link the night it went live, before I even had a chance to call and explain it to him. Apparently she had hoped that his shame toward me would convince him to go to her wedding after all, but all it did was add the final nail in the coffin in regard to his relationship with her.
By the time we finished our food, we were in the middle of a Rosalie bitchfest, recalling all the ways she manipulated us into giving her what she wanted. It was highly therapeutic.
Finally, he asked about the guy in the video, and it was then that I broke down crying. My father stared at me awkwardly from across the table as I recounted all the ways I screwed up the best thing that ever happened to me. I wasn’t even sure he was listening until he added that I was never that upset when Parker and I split up.
He’s right. I was with Parker for five years and only with Roan for a couple of months, yet the heartbreak I feel over the loss of Roan will be something I will live with forever. Like an ulcer in my stomach that will never truly heal.
I eventually pulled myself together because I had to leave my father to head to my coffee shop meeting on Michigan Avenue. I was being interviewed by friends of my father’s, so I couldn’t have them seeing me as a complete wreck.
The couple who interviewed me were a husband and a wife who own a whisky distillery, and they were looking for outside-of-the-box publicity ideas. They actually brought up the sex tape ordeal first thing. I was humiliated and felt myself stammering out my excuses, but the woman named Marjorie hushed me. She said my experience going through all of that scandal would be an asset to their business, not a liability.
They were a fun couple and I could tell immediately that they have a very interesting company culture. It’s most likely a bit of a party scene, but it would be nice to work for an industry that isn’t concerned about keeping a squeaky clean track record all of the time. Life isn’t always clean. Sometimes it’s messy. And good PR is what helps turn the mess into beautiful chaos.
After the interview, I was on a high, feeling like my career in PR wasn’t completely over, so I nearly missed it when I walked by.
The dress.
I wasn’t even looking for a dress, but I swear it found me for a reason. It was a vibrant red hue and had a plunging neckline and tiny straps. The skirt was full and would most likely twirl like a dream on the dance floor. That is, if I still had a boyfriend who knew how to dance.
Before I knew what I was doing, I walked into the store, tried it on, and bought the dress. It was as I was walking back to my dad’s apartment that my payback plan to get Rosalie back for leaking the video evolved.
I was going to crash Rosalie and Parker’s wedding, and I was going to look damn good doing it.
Well, I’m not technically crashing the wedding because I was invited. But I’m certain Rosalie won’t be expecting me to show my face around a crowd of people after she put that video out there for the world to see.
Ultimate payback. And definitely a better plan than my last one.
My dad props himself in the open bathroom doorway, a worried look on his face.
“I’m not going to stay long, Dad,” I state soothingly as I put the lid on my red lipstick and drop it into my makeup bag. “And I’m not going to cause a scene. I’m just going to walk into their wedding reception wearing my scarlet-Adress and show Rosalie that she can’t break me no matter how much she tries.”
Dad sighs heavily. “The Scarlet Letterwas about an adulterer, Alice. If anyone should be wearing a scarletA, it’s Rosalie.”
I bark out a laugh at his small attempt at humour. “Nice burn, Dad!”
He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to hide his smile before stating seriously, “I wish I could make it all disappear for you, darling. I know the video isn’t online anymore, but I hate the idea that she did that to you. I feel responsible. If I had just stuck to the original plan, none of this would have happened.”
“Don’t,” I reply, turning to face him. “You were actually listening to me for once and I really appreciate that.”
He smiles sadly. “I wish I would have listened a long time ago. My brother really had a go at me. He’s certainly taken you under his wing, hasn’t he?”
I pause, watching his reaction carefully for any signs of jealousy or resentment. Thankfully, I don’t see it. I only see gratitude. “The entire Harris family has been amazing. Truly. I’m going to miss not living close to them anymore.”
He nods thoughtfully. “I’m sure they never would have done what Rosalie did to you. That girl isn’t right in the head.”
I laugh because, at this point, I have to laugh. I’m done crying. I’m done feeling sorry for myself. I fluff out my dress and let it fuel my strength. “In some ways, I’m glad she released the video. As bizarre as that sounds, now she has nothing more to hold over me. And having it out there in the world has shown me just how strong I can be.”
My father smiles sweetly and walks into the bathroom, awkwardly putting his hand on my shoulder. “You must take after your cousins with this spirit because I bloody well don’t have this kind of fight in me.”
I laugh and pull him in for a hug. He’s tense as he pats me on the back, but I don’t mind because he’s at least trying.
“I’ll be home soon.” I do one final twirl before walking out the door and heading to my ex-boyfriend and dear stepsister’s wedding.
