“Barley, no thanks to you.”
She snickers. “Please, you made good grades and got to class…most of the time.”
My lips twitch up in the corners. It’s easier to cope with her around. She’s the queen of distraction. I steer the car to the highway, promising myself I’ll deal with the tangled, matted mess of my emotions later.
I have a margarita in my hand, Say Anything on the television, and a massive bowl of salty, artery clogging popcorn between me and my bestie. It’s therapy and the healthy kind of self-medicating. A knock at the door makes me moan. “No. She was about to punk out and give him a pen,” Jess moans as she grabs the remote and presses pause.
My chest grows tight. My head swims as I dig my fingers into the cushion. I can’t handle another ambush by reporters. Not today. My mouth waters as my stomach protests.
“B?”
I clear my throat and stand as I suck oxygen in through my mouth. The air feels thinner. I dig my nails into the fleshy meat of my palms as I force one foot in front of the other. I reach the door and peer out the peephole. The sight of my in-law deflates one type of anxiety and flares up another. I won’t have cameras and camcorders in my face, but an inquisition is certainly coming.
“It’s James and Connie.”
“Jesus can we pretend we’re not here.”
I laugh. “If I thought it would make them go away, yes. Be nice.”
“Oh honey, I’ll be so nice it’ll make them sick,” Jess said batting her eyelashes. A devilish grin crosses her lips, and the dimple in her left cheek appears.
Kill em’ with kindness. The Southern Belle’s code, unless you got them going, then look out. I rest my forehead against the door and gather myself for the battle to come. They do nothing without a purpose. Least of all show up in my tiny home. I open the door.
“Connie, James. What can I do for you?”
Despite her petite frame, the bleach blonde-haired thin woman manages to look down on me from her five-foot-five inch stature.
“We thought we’d see our grandchild since you can’t be bothered to bring her by.”
“You know why, Connie,” I say quietly. Their home is a media trap.
“We’d be happy to meet you somewhere else, Blanche. We just want to see Whitney.”
“And I want to protect her. We’ve changed schools so many times. We’re just trying to get her to graduation.”
Connie strains her neck to look around me, and I step back. “Please, come in,” I say dryly.
“Where is she?” Connie asks.
“She’s working on a school project. The last one before graduation actually. It’s pretty important.”
Connie sniffs. “As if we can’t afford to send her wherever she’d like.”
“Yes, we could, but she’s worked hard these past four years to go on her own merit,” I say patiently.
“She’s a Birling, she was born with the right connections,” Connie huffs.
I want to ring her neck.
She scowls. “And I see we’re having a celebration. Hello, Jesslynn. I would have thought you’d be running your little boutique about now.”
“My store is doing well enough to run on its own while I take a much-needed vacation and support my sister after an unthinkable tragedy.”
Connie glances away.
I peer down and cough to hide my smile. One point, Jess.
“I’m glad to hear your shop’s doing well, Jesslynn. I would’ve thought a pretty young girl with so much going for her would’ve been married ages ago,” James says.