He notices me looking and then smirks, tapping something out on his phone that I’m very clearly meant to see.
Get lost, Dakota. I don’t do incest.
Bristling, I turn back to Paul. He’s holding Tess’ hand, their fingers curled together in a way that makes me think they really do love each other. That’s good, I guess, considering their home is as warm as an ice cavern, and their kids … Ben and Amelia seem okay. Henry is just super shy. But Kimber? She’s tucked into the corner beside Tess, her own earbuds blasting something so god-awful that it makes Parrish’s music choices from last night seem appealing.
“Are you excited for the interview?” Paul asks, finishing his question as my mind ping pongs around the limo and the million new things I’m supposed to be taking in and observing. I blink at him in confusion as Tess throws a silent, angry couple-look his way, clearly communicating that he wasn’t supposed to be mentioning any such thing.
“Interview?” I ask, and Tess gives me an apologetic sort of look in response as Henry clings to her like he’s three years old instead of six-going-on-seven. She’s his mother in a way she’ll never be mine—even if I wanted her to be, which I don’t. There’s a gap between us, an emotional chasm that I see she’s desperate to cross, even if she has to build a new bridge, plank by plank. Personally, I’d rather just cut my losses and fly back to New York.
“Well, honey, as you know, we’ve been asked to appear on multiple talk shows—”
“Which I told you I wasn’t interested in,” I respond, feeling panicky. I briefly recognize that Parrish has popped out a single earbud in order to listen in on the conversation. “You said I didn’t have to do any of them.”
The last thing I want is to talk about how it happened, how I found out that I was a ‘missing child’, a kidnapped child, a child who didn’t belong where she felt at home, and a child who doesn’t belong where she’s legally bound to stay.
My mind flashes back to that awful, awful night, the one that changed the entire course of my existence.
It was a Tuesday, and I remember that it was raining like fucking crazy. Sally and Nevaeh were over, and we were all sitting on the couch, peeling off wet soaks and complaining about the weather. Grandma Carmen made us popcorn on the woodstove, and then she and my grandfather disappeared upstairs into their room.
Nevaeh insisted—insisted—we binge watch this new show about unsolved crimes. I wanted to start a new K-drama, and Sally was insisting on a feel-good rom-com. Somehow, Nevaeh got her way (like she always does) and we ended up huddled together, sharing half of a joint that she stole from her brother’s dresser drawer and doing our best to blow smoke out the window.
When episode five came on, talking about Tess Vanguard and her best-selling true crime and thriller novels, I was excited. Before all of this shit happened, my biological mother was my favorite author. But then we started watching, and the pictures of little Mia Patterson began appearing on the screen.
That’s when I started to feel funny, like someone had just scrambled my insides with a whisk, like I was having the worst period cramps known to womankind. Then Grandma Carmen came down to get a glass of water, and I remember turning over my shoulder to ask her something. Whatever it was, I have no idea. The second I saw the look on her face, I knew something was terribly, terribly wrong.
“Can we pull over, please?” I ask, realizing that Tess has been talking to me for some time, and I have literally no idea what she’s saying.
“Pull over?” Paul echoes, exchanging a look with Tess.
“I might throw up,” I whisper, and Kimber makes a sound of disgust from across the limo. Apparently, she, too, has removed an earbud in order to eavesdrop. “I can’t breathe.”
“Alright, alright, stay calm,” Paul says, getting that don’t worry, I’m a doctor tone in his voice. You know the one, where a licensed physician is in the room and they just suddenly know everything there is to know about anything related to the human body, mind, or soul. “Take this.” He passes me an empty ice bucket—I’m guessing it’s used to hold champagne when the limo’s being used for something less depressing than a missing child family breakfast—and encourages me to lean over and put it between my knees. “Just keep your face near the bucket and try to breathe.”
Parrish says nothing, staring down at me like this whole scenario is more an annoyance than anything else. Then he goes back to texting on his phone, and I can’t help it, I throw up.
“Oh my god, gross!” Kimber shouts as I dry heave into the damn thing. I haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, so not much comes up, but it still doesn’t make for a great first impression on my new family. My shiny, beautiful new family with their mansion in one of the richest zip codes in the United States, their horrible sterile box of a house, and their limo filled with hateful people.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I struggle to pull my thoughts together.
“Grandma?” I asked, turning fully around and putting my elbows on the back of the sofa. “Are you okay?”
She stood there for several seconds, just staring at the screen, her eyes telling me she was seeing something that she’d give anything to unsee. Anything. Her soul, her heart. Just to make it go away.
“Go get your grandfather,” she told me, moving around the couch to grab the remote. Her hands shook so badly that it took her three tries to press pause. When she glanced back and realized I hadn’t moved, she snapped at me in a way I’ve never seen before. “Go, Dakota, now!”
I scrambled up from the sofa as Sally and Nevaeh exchanged looks, and raced up the stairs. In my mind, I begged the universe to make everything be okay. I’d thought for a second there that my grandma was having a heart attack or a stroke or something.
Instead, it was a surprise the likes of which none of us would soon forget.
When I open my eyes, I find every member of the Vanguard family staring at me like I’ve sprouted horns. Well, all of them except for Parrish. He’s got his earbuds in again, and is typing on his phone like this is a normal Tuesday, like my roots weren’t just ripped from the soft, fertile earth and left to die in the sun.
“Let’s … not talk about the interview just now,” Tess suggests, grabbing a cold bottle of water from the mini fridge and offering it up to me along with a tin of Altoids. I take the items, trying to see them as positives—she’s just trying to help—versus the negatives that I really believe they are—don’t make a scene, here take these mints so no one will know your weakness.
Sipping the water and popping the mints helps, and I manage to make it to the club without further incident.
There are no reporters there as the building sits on a huge piece of private property, but there might as well be. Every person and their grandmother wants to talk to us, to touch my arm or my hand like they can somehow glean my personality from an unwanted caress. More than one of them laughs at my t-shirt, and an older man with salt and pepper hair calls it cute.
I’ve never hated my life more than I do in that exact moment.
After breakfast, when I’m sure things can’t possibly get any worse, Tess puts her arm around me and smiles.
“Did you enjoy the club?” she asks, and I nod, because what else can I do? To be honest, I hardly remember what it even looked like I was so disoriented. “Good. We come here a lot; it’s a great place to meet people.” She pauses for a moment in thought and then smiles again. “Although there is a dress code. Today, you were the guest of honor, but next time, you’ll want to really look the part.”