Page 41 of Ruse
I slowly turn to face my mother, but the woman staring back at me is nothing like the woman I remember. Her clear blue eyes radiate an anger I’ve never seen before, not directed at me at least. My mother was always indifferent to everything that concerned my brother and me. She was careful not to show too much emotion, careful not to make the mistake of showing us she truly cared but was never outright cruel. She was an uptight woman, but anyone in her position, who was brought up with her morals and beliefs, bred to be a woman of power and status in our upper crust society, would behave the same way. And there was nothing Elaine Astor cared more than her reputation, status, and keeping up appearances, and that’s the one thing that was taken from her.
Yanked away against her will, leaving her tarnished and weak. Two words you’d never in a million years think you’d hear associated with the Astor name. And that was the true issue. Who knows if my grandparents ever reached out to her in the months since the incident. By how panicked Cassandra sounded in the twenty voicemails she left me, I doubt she’d heard from them.
My grandparents live full time in Manhattan, where my mother was born and raised, and lived until meeting my father at a party in her family’s Hamptons house her senior year of high school. His family was west coast old money, and my mother was east coast royalty. Two peas in a pod, meant for each other, or so everyone thought.
Then again, nothing my father has done, not the affair nor divorce, compare to her trying and failing to take her own life and ending up here. Although in my world a stint in rehab is as common as a trip to the plastic surgeon, it still is frowned upon if it comes to light. And if I thought my mother was uptight and pretentious, she’s Bubbly Betty compared to my grandmother Eleanor Astor.
“Given your response, I assume you believe you’ve done nothing wrong, mother.”
Now it’s she who laughs. Her blond hair is perfectly combed, her white sundress with not a wrinkle in sight, her nails clean and polished with a pink-nude color, and her face as flawless as ever. You’d never guess three months ago she was a drunken, drugged up mess, chasing away her demons who threatened to take her down.
“You’re just like him, the both of you are. Ungrateful, spoiled, and useless.” My heart sinks at her outburst. Although I wasn’t expecting a warm hug, nor a pat on the back, I didn’t think she held such resentment and hatred for me. This wasn’t the woman I remembered. This wasn’t the woman I stood up for against all those who degraded her behind her back. The woman I hoped I’d find, changed and willing to be there for her family.
But this was the woman Elaine Astor truly was. Deep inside, in all her fame and glory, my mother was exactly who she needed to be to move past the scandal that had befallen her.
Reborn, and revamped, she is risen.
“You’re right mother, and just like him, I will leave you.” I turn away from her but not before I catch a glimpse of hurt flash in her eyes before disappearing behind the cruel and icy blue color. I look up at Cassandra, who believe it or not, has tears pooled in her eyes. “Don’t call me again. You heard her, and hear me now, she is dead to me. After all, that’s exactly what she wanted.”
* * *
I needto focus on getting as far away from this place as possible and in turn away from my parents. After the visit I paidMommy Dearest, it’s never been any clearer to me I don’t belong here. Doing everything in my power to fit in and be a part of Malibu Cove’s Elite Society, to have a family, was a waste of time, energy, and my overall sanity. Because the moment I stepped out of the straight and narrow line, I was shunned.
Leaving is my only option. Leaving thisperfectly imperfect life behind, leaving him. To do so, I must remain focused on my future, learning to live life on my own terms, and unfortunately that leaves no time for any man. No matter how sinfully sexy, tattooed, and dangerously addictive he may be.
“So, are y’all going to Tate’s tonight?” Brooklyn asks in some weird fake southern accent he’s picked up, as he comes around the corner entering our theater room. Located in the house's attic, and my favorite room other than my bedroom, our built-in theater is home to a one hundred- and twenty-inch, full screen projector, and three rows of the comfiest, leather recliners known to man. Various classics movie posters line the walls of the room, giving it a total Hollywood Studio vibe. Eclectic yet cozy.
“Sounds good to me,” Donovan replies all too eagerly, shifting toward my brother who seems oddly chipper this afternoon.
“No,” I snap, both Dee and Brooklyn spinning to face me with stupefied grimaces.
“What do you mean no P? It’s a party,” Dee mutters, anxiously chuckling, and silently begging me with her gaze to reconsider. It’s obvious she’s adamant on going because Brooklyn is the one asking if we’ll be there, but I don’t think it’s for the reason she wants it to be. My darling bestie, if only she could see how wrong she and Brooklyn would be. My idiot brother wouldn’t know how to appreciate a girl as amazing as my best friend. I mean, he’s fucked Tate for God's sakes. More than once, which in my books is no longer grounds for a mistake or a lapse in judgment.
I throw a handful of cheese popcorn in my mouth, “Yeah, Tate’s party,” I mumble between chews, “Why on earth would I go anywhere near that bitch?”
Brooklyn scoffs, leaning back against the doorway. “Oh, get over it Phoenix, it was one simple joke about mom, and you got your panties all up in a twist.”
One simple joke he says. More like one God awful joke about my mother, not three days after she tried to commit suicide. The evil skank thought it prudent to ask how my poor mommy was doing, having heard she accidentally took a few too many diet pills. After all that was what she needed.You’re not supposed to take more than prescribed for them to have a quicker effect. Didn’t she understand that, or does she need brain supplements too?
I glare daggers at my dear brother. “One joke about our mom who not forty-eight hours prior was getting her stomach pumped asshole.”
He stares up at the ceiling bored, “Well, nobody told her to take the damn pills P.”
My heart sinks. I cannot believe my brother might be as cruel as he is behaving, especially after the heart to heart we had a few nights ago. I know Brooklyn had taken the divorce with a grain of salt, simply showing indifference toward both my parents, but we nearly lost my mother. It doesn't matter if she wasn't a great mother, or even how she treated me last night leaving me no hope of ever seeing or hearing from her again, I know deep down she was suffering.
Before last night, I knew this scandal was slowly killing her, and the conversation we had proved I was right. It may not have been the loss of the love of her life, which I doubt she truly cared about my father, but the shame accompanied by being cheated on, dumped, and humiliated that way. I thought that ought to have meant something to Brooklyn.
I was wrong.
It ruined her, but Brooklyn didn’t know what I knew, and yet he didn’t care. I guess he’s more like the woman who brought him into this world than he thinks.
“Whatever, come or don’t. I don’t care. All I know is it’s going to be epic. She invited one of her dad’s clients to perform, hasn’t said who, but her dad represents some of the best.” Of course. Tristan Mortimer of Mortimer Records, one of the top record labels in the industry, is Tate’s father. Equally pleasant company, Mr. Mortimer is a top-notch perv who uses his position as the head honcho of the label to lure in young, upcoming new artists. It’s all just speculation, but I wouldn’t doubt it given the whore he has for a daughter.
I guess that’s being unfair on my part. After all, I’m not uptight and suicidal like my mother, nor a cheating narcissistic sleazebag like my daddy.
“Hey man, are we leaving or what?” Fitz calls out, as he enters the room and joins us.
Brooklyn snorts, “Yeah going, Phoenix here is skipping the party tonight.”
