Page 40 of Ruse
I cannot let myself go anywhere near crossing the bright red line that’s drawn between us. It was a close call a couple nights ago when Daphne almost walked in on Maverick doing more than just aiding my wounds, and last night in front of Brooklyn, we’re lucky my brother’s an idiot who was near catatonic from how intoxicated he'd been.
I stare down at the phone in my hand, watching it ring for the third time in the last five minutes, yet I can’t bring myself to answer, afraid if I do, I’ll give in and give her what she wants. I’ll be their puppet once more.
The first text came in last night while Maverick, Brooklyn and I were driving back to the house. I refused to let it bring down the good mood I found myself in, but my attempts were in vain. Maverick noticed right away, watching me through the rearview mirror as my gaze remained focused on my lap, my teeth digging into my bottom lip trying to keep my composure while I figured out what I was going to do. I could feel his eyes watching me curiously, noticing the smile I wore all night had quickly disappeared and was replaced by a grim pout.
It was unnerving how easily he could see right through me, not to mention it scared the hell out of me. I never wanted to be vulnerable to anyone, which is why I kept everyone at arm's length. I was extremely particular with those I allowed into my inner circle, and for good reason. Because the moment my life went up in flames, everyone’s true colors came to light, and they were horrifying.
But Maverick was something else entirely. I couldn’t read him like I’d learned to read everyone else. I knew his intentions weren’t innocent. With everything that had transpired between us, between our families, they couldn’t be. Yet I wondered if deep down, he was as unsettled and confused as I was.
He tried to stop me as we walked in through the front door, but since Brooklyn was acting like he was severely intoxicated, I escaped upstairs and locked myself in my room while he dragged my brother to his.
Back in my room, I reopened the text message, staring down at the screen, my eyes burning with acidic tears as I reread it repeatedly.
Elaine requests your presence.
It didn’t say your mother misses you or your mother wants to see you; she requests my presence like some business associate or worse, a stranger.
I shouldn’t blame Cassandra; she has no other choice but to obey my mother’s requests and keep her happy. It’s what my father pays almost a hundred grand a month for. But that doesn’t mean I have to.
Regardless, here I am, sitting in my car, in the parking lot at Cliffside Malibu, coming to her beck and call. After the last time I was here and she practically kicked me out, I shouldn’t have come back.
I guess I’m a masochistic and have grown to favor pain above all else.
After fifteen minutes of sitting in my car trying to talk myself out of coming inside, I head over to the front desk reception, my knees trembling as I unsteadily tread along the white marbled floors, my reflection mocking me while I stare down at my feet. My heels pitter patter along the marble, but I don’t miss a step. Even though I'm anxious and feeling like I’m about to pass out, I keep my composure, walking just like I was trained to by the etiquette coach I had since I was seven years old. One foot in front of the other, heel to toe, shoulders back, chin up, facing forward, and each step only a second apart.
Before I reach the young brunette receptionist wearing a cream-colored blouse and matching pencil skirt, perfectly perched behind the large, marbled counter, Cassandra pops up in my peripheral, heading directly towards me, impeccably dressed in a white, pristinely tailored and ironed pantsuit.
“Phoenix my dear, I’m so glad to see you.” Her tone of voice, a soft falsetto, is harmonizing and almost hypnotizing, bringing my attention to her, but I quickly snap out of my trance and remember what I’ve come here for.
“I received your messages,” I stammer curtly and without emotion. “I thought it would be prudent to come tell you in person to stop calling me. Stop texting me, I want nothing to do with this place nor the woman who lives here.”
Her face pales in shock, as her gaze travels around the room hoping no one has caught my rampage. “Phoenix dear,” She places a hand on the small of my back and urges me toward a hallway leading toward her office. “I understand where your frustration is coming from.”
“Frustration?” I mock, pull away from her. “Oh, honey I’m not the least bit frustrated. This is rage.”
Cassandra laughs my comment away, looking around with a fake as hell smile in place, in case any visitors are witnessing my outburst. “Why don’t we go speak in my office dear?”
“Stop calling me that and acting like you’re not being a total bitch. I said what I came here to say, and now I’ll be leaving. Don’t call me again.” But before I can stop away from her, leaving her standing with her jaw dropped, she reaches out for me and grabs me by the shoulder.
“Listen Phoenix, it is important that you listen to what I have to say.” Her grip on my arm tightens, but she’s quick to release me when a group of four women, dressed in long white lab coats approach us.
“Dr. Hastings, is everything alright?” One woman asks, curiously staring between Cassandra and me.
“Everything’s great Dr. Allen,” she answers, but clearly Dr. Allen isn’t satisfied by her response. “This here is Phoenix, she’s Ms. Astor’s daughter who has come for a visit.” I glare at Cassandra’s blatant lie but decide it’s best to not make a scene in front of the group which is surely composed of Psychiatrists and doctors.
“Oh, how wonderful,” Dr. Allen says, “I’m sure Elaine will be pleased by your visit dear. She speaks so much about you during our daily talks.”
“Actually, I…”
“We were just on our way out to see her. I will see you this afternoon for our conference Dr. Allen.” Without another word, Cassandra drags me toward the same exit we took last time that leads out toward the pool.
“Cassandra, wait, I don’t want to see her.”
We stop abruptly, right before stepping out the back door, and I yank my arm out of Cassandra’s hold. “Look Phoenix,” she mutters, slightly less composed, “I understand you’re upset, hurt even, but your mother, Elaine, needs you. She needs to know that she has your support, her family's support. It’s the only way she will get better.”
A faint chuckle escapes me. “She doesn’t deserve it. Not after the way she treated me the last time I was here. Not after the way she disregarded having a family. How pathetic can someone be, trying to take their own life because of something their husband did, forgetting she had two children who still needed her? The fact she was willing to leave us to fend for ourselves, although that’s exactly what we’ve been doing our whole lives, proves why she doesn’t deserve my forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?” I hear someone blurt out behind me, and instantly my body freezes in panic. Without turning around to face her, I know it’s her, and I’m afraid she’s heard every word I just shouted out. The look of utter disbelief on Cassandra’s pale face proves I’m right in assuming my mother’s heard what I said, and she isn’t happy about it. “You think I want your forgiveness?”
