Page 3 of Just Like the Brontë Sisters

She sat up. Dallas was in the room and that had to be his dad standing next to him. Jo Beth grabbed at the covers, frantic to cover herself, frantic to flee.

“You’re awake,” the dad said. He lifted a glass of water off the night stand. “Here, drink.” He handed the glass to a terribly thirsty Jo Beth, who took only a modest sip. “I apologize to you on my son’s behalf.”

Dallas just stood there, his hands in his pockets, his head hung low. When he wouldn’t meet her eyes, the truth hit Jo Beth like the sudden onset of stomach flu. Dallas didn’t love her and she’d been a stupid, silly girl to believe, even for a moment, that he had. Meanwhile, why the hell wouldn’t the father look away? He was thicker than Dallas, gray hairs mixed in with his blonde, and lines creased his golden-tan skin. Yet their resemblance was uncanny; they were the same factory model.

“I should probably go.” She looked from side to side. “Where are my clothes?”

“Dallas will get them for you.” His father flicked his head in the direction of the door, and Dallas took his exit.

Jo Beth cocooned herself in the sheet as the dad sat beside her on the bed. “Dallas has this unfortunate habit. He says that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, that we both like younger women. But you are merely a child, and I’m always pulling strings, trying to clear him of statutory rape charges. Do you understand?”

She didn’t understand. Her brain still felt fuzzy, but she nodded her head in agreement anyway.

“Dallas got into some trouble during college in Vermont.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Similar stuff. You should be aware… whatever he told you, it’s a lie.”

The dad was sitting too close, staring at the sheets stretched over her naked chest. Dallas came back into the room, holding Jo Beth’s clothes in a bundle. He tossed them onto the bed, like somehow she’d offended him.

“Get dressed,” Dallas said in a cold voice. “I’ll drive you home.”

“No.” The dad sounded like a villain in a teen-slasher film. “I’m driving her.”

The ride back was eternal. The space between her legs burned, her mouth was so dry she couldn’t swallow, and her head ached with unshed tears. And he kept talking and talking, his voice like dull teeth gnawing through her skull.

“Dallas’s coaching job is the only thing that keeps him from becoming a ski bum.” He stared straight ahead, clutching the steering wheel so tight that he looked like he could rip it off. “He needs a sense of purpose and a scandal won’t do anyone any good. If you say something, nobody will believe you but they’ll have to look into it. You won’t prove anything, but reputations will be ruined. You understand how that would be bad for you? Bad for the ski team?”

Jo Beth just pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the car window and stared out.

“That house is mine,” she rasped, and he pulled up to the curb. She reached for the door handle a split second before she heard the click of automatic locks. Jo Beth turned and for the first time, looked this man in the eyes.

“Let me out.”

“In a moment.” He paused, staring her down. “First I need to know that we agree.”

“Agree about what?”

He spoke low, clipping his syllables with precision. “That you won’t say anything about what happened between you and Dallas.”

“Why would I agree to that?”

He smiled like a cobra. “Dallas says you have potential. That you should get a good coach, that you’re destined for the Olympics.” He gestured towards her parent’s modest house. “I’m guessing you don’t have the money or the connections to make that happen. But I do. Don’t say anything about Dallas, and I will sponsor you. If you’re as good as Dallas says you are, we’ll both benefit.”

Up until then she’d almost been a romantic, believing true love could exist, that there was a possibility of happily-ever-after. But at that moment her cynicism emerged like an iceberg cutting through a mountain, leaving a huge, pragmatic ravine in its wake. “Fine.” She reached out and shook his hand, sealing her deal with the devil.

That night was the real beginning of Jo Beth Blue, ski star extraordinaire.

More importantly, she’d learned a valuable life lesson. Hooking up with guys was fine, but she had to be the one in control. And as it was her job to protect her younger sister, Jo Beth took on the job of educating Skylar. Jo Beth realized this would be a challenge, especially after she took Skylar to see a production of Romeo and Juliet. Skylar ate it up. Cried, even. Afterwards Jo Beth yelled at her.

“Juliet killed herself over a guy she’d known for less than a week! And she’d only met him a few hours before they got married! Who does that, besides some lame Disney princesses? No! You will NOT be one of those girls!”

Skylar sniffled in the seat next to her as they drove home from the performance. “What do you mean? One of what girls?”

“One who buys all the fairytale, true-love crap.”

“But I love a good romance,” Skylar said.

Jo Beth gripped the steering wheel and clipped her syllables, not unlike how Dallas’s father had done.

“Forget romance. You have to be strong, Sky. Only the strong survive.”