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And cue the belligerent disrespect that always goes unchecked.
I’m used to Missy and Mom and their tender way of throwing me under the bus whenever they get into an argument. The only reason I’m complaining now is the blistering migraine throbbing in my temple.
The girls from Kappa NU and I went out to celebrate Christmas before we went our separate ways for the holidays, last night. I guess one drink led to five and now, I’m paying the price.
So, donned in the golden Tom Ford evening gown Mom picked out for me, I sit in the foyer of the LA mansion, practically begging the Advil to take over and hoping to God Missy stops screaming soon.
Of course, in true Missy fashion, though, she doesn’t.
“You’re going and that’s final,” Mom snaps, face red under her perfect blonde French twist. “Go change. You’re embarrassing me.” Mom waves a hand to the people waiting in the foyer. Her staff, right-hand woman, and I suspect, secret lover, June. My best friend Michael. Mom’s driver, Donatello.
I roll my eyes. As if none of them haven’t seen Missy throw a fit before.
Missy opens her mouth to refuse again, but Mom stops her with a look. I know that look. It’s a warning. One more toe out of line and the already dire consequences will turn into dictator-like punishment.
“I hate you!” Missy spits at Mom, storming back up the stairs to her room. Seconds later, her door slams with enough force to rattle my brain.
“Christ,” Mom grits in her gentle Virginian accent, patting down her already perfect hair. “You would think I had asked her to chop off a limb.”
“It’s okay,” June soothes, placing a hand on Mom’s arm. She’s good at diffusion situations, especially with Missy. I suppose that’s part of why Mom keeps her around, apart from her . . .othertalents. “Hannah can go speak with her. We have to go.”
“Let’s not,” I shoot back, and everyone’s eyes turn on me. My cheeks burn red under their gaze. I’m not used to being the center of attention. That position is normally filled with either Mom or Missy. Truth be told, I’d rather remain in the background. It’s simpler there.
Less yelling.
June shoots me a look, warning me not to upset my mother any more than she already is and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Right about now, I’m pretty tired of everyone in my general vicinity. I just want to get this benefit over with, come back home, and climb into a bubble bath. Now that Mom’s governor, we’ve been splitting our time between LA and Sacramento, though I prefer Los Angeles. Mom’s agreed to let me stay this time, with the promise that I won’t do anything stupid, but I think she just wants me to keep an eye on Missy.
Always babysitting Missy.
“No, that’s a good idea,” Mom murmurs, completely disregarding I already said no. “She’ll talk to you if no one else is around.”
“Then it’s settled.” June smiles at me, not even bothering to hide the triumph in her gaze. “Hannah, you go and get Missy ready and the rest of us will head over. We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon.”
“Of course.”
Mom stares at me for a moment, as if she’s testing me to see if I’ll argue with her again, but I know better. I’m not an idiot.
She nods once and then she and June head toward the door with the rest of the party while I prepare myself for the mental warfare that comes with calming down my sister.
“You look like shit,” Michael chuckles quietly, joining me now that everyone has dissolved into idle chit-chat about tonight’s events.
“Thank you,” I grimace.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he murmurs. “I meant you look like you don’t feel well. You actually look beautiful right now.”
Actually?
Ass.
“Wait,” he calls, following me as I climb to the second floor. “That wasn’t right, either.”
“Is this about what my mother said?”
If awkward tension was a liquid, we’d be drowning in it right now.
“Well—”
