The Ugly Girls' Club: A Murder Mystery Thriller

by C. A. Wittman

  "Not to mention that he completely ghosted my sister," Cassandra said, red splotches appearing on her cheeks. "Sam's a bitch, I know. But she was really into him, and it wasn't easy for her to have him find out the way he did."

  "Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut," Nisha snapped.

  "She should have," Cassandra agreed. "And sometimes she doesn't know when to stop, but having your gender change revealed publicly when you're not ready to come out about it is not the same as her talking about our club. It's like comparing apples to elephants."

  Nisha crossed her arms, but she didn't argue back.

  "What's it like hanging out with the PLDs?" Cat asked, changing the subject.

  "They party a lot and are really into shopping and drinking and getting high," Emma said. She thought of Blue and some of their more intimate moments, making love, opening up to each other about their lives, and their hopes and dreams. There was a tenderness to Blue that she often shielded when she was around Valentina and Suri. "Blue's more down to earth," Emma added.

  The room had grown quiet.

  "Is her sister really a sugar baby?" Cassandra asked.

  "I'm not sure," Emma lied.

  "Is Donovan going out with Blue?" Cat asked.

  Emma hesitated. "I don't think it's serious," she said, her eyes skirting away from Cassandra.

  "I knew it," Nisha said. "Sam should be happy to get rid of his pervy ass."

  Emma’s phone pinged again. It was Blue.

  You okay?

  Emma stood. There was an important conversation she needed to have.

  "I've got to go," she said.

  "Where're you going? You just got here." Cat looked alarmed, tossing some shirts into her suitcase.

  "I have some things I need to take care of. Would it be okay if I came by tomorrow?"

  Cat nodded.

  Emma made her rounds, giving all of them hugs again, then searched for the nearest scooter on her phone. There was one a block away. Once she left Cat's, she began heading in a northerly direction. Her phone pinged again. It was Hunter.

  Sending you love.

  Emma texted back a heart.

  Chapter 29

  His black Lamborghini was parked in front of the house. Emma felt winded just looking at it as she glided up to the curb on her scooter, a bag with a croissant in one of her hands. She’d gone to Starbucks for the now rare snack. All of the stress of the last several days had brought up old cravings, and the idea of the soft, doughy bread with its flakey, crisp exterior had seemed comforting. Emma abandoned the scooter on the sidewalk and walked to the division of cement and front yard. What was he doing here? She pulled out her phone and texted Jill.

  What’s dad doing here?

  Emma went through the side gate, waiting for a reply. A minute later, one came.

  He wants to talk to you.

  I don’t want to talk to him. Tell him to go away

  Where are you?

  Outside in the yard

  Emma paced their well-manicured backyard, the grass green and routinely mowed by landscapers. There were a few rose bushes and two box gardens filled with herbs in various states of growth.

  Jill came out the back door, squinting at the daylight. She was a workaholic, spending an inordinate amount of time indoors on the computer. She had two long walks in the day, which included pushing the twins through the surrounding neighborhoods in their stroller. The first walk took place after breakfast, and there was a second evening walk after dinner. Jill’s assistant watched the twins during the day. Her mother’s work routine was broken up into three-hour blocks of time with half-hour breaks to spend with the twins on focused play.

  There was a heightened level of tension on Jill’s face, and Emma knew it had to do with her dad interrupting her mom’s schedule. She knew he must have shown up unannounced. If it had been at mealtime, he would not have been allowed in the house at all.

  “As usual,” Jill said, “your father seems to think his time is the only time that counts. He says you’re not answering his calls.”

  “I don’t want to talk with him.”

  Her mother stared at her for a moment. “Why?”

  “It’s just… It’s between us.”

  The backdoor opened, and Oliver stepped out. “Emma,” he said. He looked older than usual and like he’d lost weight.

  Emma took two steps back. “Please leave me alone.”

  Jill crossed her arms, a bit of curiosity sparking in her eyes.

  “Look,” Oliver began, running a tongue over his dry lips. “I know I deserve your anger. It was a stupid thing I did… and… I’m dreadfully sorry.”

  “If you know you deserve my anger, then why are you here?” Emma yelled. “Can’t you get it through your narcissistic head? I don’t want to see you anymore. Like, never.”

  Oliver grimaced. “I know, Em. It was monstrous of me.” His eyes slid toward Jill.

  “What did you do?” Jill asked, looking worried.

  “Well, I, er, I had a lapse of judgment during Emma’s little graduation get-together.”

  “Oh, come off it,” Emma yelled. “You’re always having a lapse of judgment! Always! And it wasn’t a little get-together! It was a huge fucking party with tons of alcohol and kids galore.”

  Oliver blanched, growing pale as a look of shock swept over Jill’s features.

  “Now Em,” Oliver said.

  “Don’t Em me!” She switched her attention to her mom. “He’s a horrible dad. A fucking loser. I don’t know why you wanted more kids with him. Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time around? You want to know what he did?”

  “Em,” Oliver said feebly.

  “He throws a party at his house for teenagers—all the alcohol we can drink—and then decides to go make out with his sugar baby girlfriend in his bedroom with the door unlocked. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he has her playing out some freaky fetish for him.”

  Jill whipped around to glare at Oliver. “Is this true?”

  Oliver held up his hands. “It is a little more complex…” he looked like he was going to pass out as he opened his mouth to continue. Words failed him. He tried again. “There were, uh, some extenuating circumstances that Emma has left out…”

  “Extenuating circumstances!” Emma screamed.

  “I—” Oliver said, but Emma cut him off. “You what? You don’t know how to be a dad?! You don’t know when something is completely inappropriate? Do you want to know what my circumstances are? Thanks to how easy it is to get porn on the internet, I’ve been looking at it for over a year straight, and I can’t fucking stop.”

  Oliver blinked, and Jill looked nonplussed.

  “Yeah,” Emma hissed. “You’re so caught up in your schedules and the twins that you know nothing about what I’m up to,” she said to Jill. “And your head has always been up your ass, so you don’t even count,” she said to Oliver. Emma’s breathing was ragged. She felt like she’d just done some hill sprints. “I’m sad, and I’m scared, and I need someone to be a fucking parent. I need help.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand. It felt slimy and wet.

  A cold fury had swept over Jill, her eyes growing small.

  “You need to leave,” she said to Oliver.

  He hesitated.

  “Now!”

  Emma jumped at her mom’s tone, then hiccupped. She had never seen Jill this mad. Sure, she’d seen her have meltdowns, the kind of tantrums that young kids have, but she had never seen her furious. Under the greyish-white cloud cover, Jill’s eyes looked silvery.

  Oliver started to open the back door.

  “No,” Jill said and pointed. “Out the gate. I don’t want you in the house.”

  “Right,” he said glumly, scurrying away.

  Jill turned to Emma. She was trembling, her jaw set in that way Emma was familiar with. A meltdown was coming, and her mother was trying her darndest to contain it.

  “You can use the reset room,” Emma whispered. “I can
wait.”

  Jill nodded as an anguished sound came out of her, a mix between a humming noise and a pained animal. Her mother opened the back door and let out a raw, angry yell that made the hairs rise on Emma’s skin. Emma jogged up behind her mom and passed her to check on the twins. They were with Myla in the living room. Three pairs of eyes on three startled faces glanced up at her.

  “Jill won’t be available for an hour or so,” Emma said to her mother’s assistant as the door to the Reset room slammed shut. Emma could hear muffled screams through the walls and a few thuds that sounded like Jill kicking the walls.

  “I could take the twins for a walk,” Myla said in a low voice.

  “That’d probably be a good idea.”

  Emma went into her bedroom, the flood of cortisol in her system leaving her muscles feeling weak as she sank to her bed and buried her face in her down pillow. In seconds, she was asleep.

  Chapter 30

  Hunter ran their hands through their hair, sighed, and then looked directly into the camera.

  “Where to start. Maybe I'll start by saying this is a rant, a rant directed at parents and adults in general, but especially parents. This is not an attack or a judgment of how people should parent because—first of all—I'm fourteen. It would be pretentious and ridiculous of me to give advice on a subject as varied and complex as parenting. But I want to say this: with all due respect, you are in the dark.

  Everything you thought you knew about the dangers kids are most likely to face has changed.

  “What am I talking about? Porn addiction in teens and children, and online sexual predators. Major depression and anxiety in young kids. Young people so crippled by college debt that they turn to prostitution to get themselves through school. Oh, and the prostitution goes by the really fuzzy, warm name of sugar baby.

  “I don't normally swear, but I'm going to now. Parents, you need to wake the fuck up. The world is preying on your children. We've become the products and the internet is the storefront, reeling us in for the delight and consumption of pedophiles the world over. They don't need to go cruising around in windowless vans anymore or try to entice some kid with candy. Because that man, a thousand times over, is on your child's phone, engaging with your nine-year-old in her bed at night, grooming her to give up compromising pictures of herself. It's so easy to just connect online when Mom and Dad are away or asleep.

  “Do you know how often your child gets solicited? Gets sent pictures of men's—and it's almost always men’s—genitals? Go ahead, ask. Most kids won't tell you, though, because A) they're embarrassed, or B) you'd take away their devices, or C) both.

  “Do you know how many of us are exposed to porn at a really, really young age, consume it regularly, and become addicted? You think it can't happen to your kid? Think again.

  “Sexting. Sexting is now considered quaint. Middle schoolers and even younger sext all the time. And dating. What's that? Here's what happens nowadays: Two people like each other and conduct most of their relationship between texts and a few hookups. They exchange nude pics. Heteronormative boys will often share their girlfriends’ nude picture around with other boys, like a baseball card. Girls’ pictures are traded around amongst friends and beyond. All. The. Time. But that's just child's play—middle school stuff.

  “You are working so hard to keep us safe, fearing the real world, when the boogeyman is actually on that screen your kid is constantly staring at. We think we're connected, but we're so disconnected from reality. A lot of us know this, but, in a way, we don't.

  “It's like amnesia when we see the latest highlight reels of our friends’ lives and wonder why we're not having that much fun. Or we think we're ugly because we're comparing ourselves to non-fucking-reality: filtered, altered pictures. We obsess over when we're going to have our glow-up, how many followers, friends, and likes we have, how popular we are online. We know it's not reality or the whole story, but it doesn't stop us from trying to attain the unattainable, get that clout we're addicted to.

  “Here are some facts: Violent crime has gone down, but suicide, depression, anxiety, and sexual exploitation of children, teens, and young adults have gone up precipitously.

  “I've lost two friends to suicide, and a third recently confided in me about porn addiction. Honestly, considering all the good things about social media, if I could have a childhood without it, I'd gladly give it up.

  “I know that each generation has had their challenges and dilemmas growing up, but if you knew—really knew—the dangers we're facing, you'd never let your child be alone with their devices. It is a virtual Hunger Games out there. We're navigating sexual predators, internet trolls, and cyberbullying from our peers. “Think about the times you made an ass of yourself when you were young, and the shame you felt. Now think about whatever it was you did and still causes you to squirm even today, and imagine having that incident recorded and replayed in perpetuity. It happens all the time today. It happened recently at a party I was at. A girl, while drunk, made a stupid, thoughtless remark to another girl. She was so canceled and bullied that she had a mental breakdown. Was it wrong how she was behaving? Of course it was. Did she deserve to have her entire reputation and that of her friends completely torched? I don't think so.

  “From my vantage point, unless you, the parents, take real action, it's only going to get worse. Unfortunately, most kids will not come forward and ask for help, and there are a lot of us who are happy to wallow in virtual garbage. But I'm warning you, beseeching you. Wake up and take some action.

  “Below, I've posted links to articles you can read on the subjects I've talked about in this video. The signs to look for when your teen is at risk for suicide, porn addiction, or the victim of a sexual predator. Okay. Peace out.”

  Gumption clicked on the link below the video for an article on teen suicide, scanning the page detailing signs to watch for. She recognized being bullied, recent losses, family violence of a physical, sexual, or verbal nature. Those reasons had come up repeatedly when she'd researched the girl suicides in the seventies, the girls she had painted. But these girls, the waterside suicides—in family interviews, the parents and siblings had appeared baffled, utterly shocked. There had been no signs. Gumption stood and crossed the room to the window that looked out on her neighbors' house across the street. She parted the curtain and stared thoughtfully at the Bakers’.

  The other day, she'd made a casual remark to Cassandra about Sam's nails, using Candace's description. So colorful, like gumdrops. Cassandra had visibly stiffened and said she didn't remember her sister painting her nails in that style.

  Gumption had backed down. “I must be remembering someone else,” she'd said with a cool smile.

  The fear on the girl's face was striking.

  Chapter 31

  The continuous pinging of texts finally permeated Emma's brain, pulling her from the dredges of her long nap. She sat up, pushing her hair from her face, and looked at the time on her phone. Three o'clock. She'd slept for two hours. There were more messages from Blue and a message from Cat to their group, asking if everyone wanted to go out for breakfast the following morning. Her parents were treating. Emma sent a thumbs up and then closed her eyes for a moment more before calling Blue.

  "Hey, stranger," Blue answered on the second ring. "Where've you been? It's like you dropped off the face of the earth."

  "Just family stuff," Emma lied.

  There was an awkward pause in the conversation.

  "Are you okay?" Blue asked in a lower voice.

  Emma didn't answer right away.

  "You kind of left in a hurry. Did the other day weird you out?"

  "Kind of," Emma said softly.

  "Like, what was it that bothered you?"

  "Um." Emma looked up at her ceiling as tears filled her eyes. "It was all kind of… I felt like everything was happening really fast."

  "You seemed like you were into it," Blue said, sounding slightly defensive.

  Emma shook her hea
d, her stomach feeling empty and chalky. "Don't worry about it," she said.

  Another awkward silence.

  "When can you come by? I miss you."

  "Yeah. I don't know."

  "Come over," Blue said with a sigh. "We'll talk it out. You're my friend, and if you're feeling uncomfortable, then let's have a conversation."

  Uncomfortable. Let's have a conversation.

  Emma hated that millennial, Prius-driving, granola-eating, gentrified, knitting speak. It made her think of the counselor at school in her stupid Teletubby jumper and Birkenstocks.

  "Hello?" Blue said.

  "Okay." Emma wiped her mouth, her stomach feeling emptier.

  "Okay, you're coming over?"

  "Yeah."

  "Alright," Blue said in a softer tone. "I'll see you when you get here."

  Emma ended the call, her eyes wandering over to the crumpled brown bag on her nightstand, a grease spot shining through the paper that held the croissant she never ate. Emma picked it up, went into the kitchen, and threw it away. The house was unusually quiet, and she realized her mother and the twins weren't home. It was too early for a second walk. She wondered where they'd gone. Emma stretched and went back to her room, changing her clothes, pulling on a pair of distressed Levis, high tops, and a plain white t-shirt with a pastel-colored tie-dye sweatshirt. She stared for a moment at her sleep-rumpled face and applied some red lip gloss before running a brush through her hair, which was badly in need of a cut. It hung to her mid-back and had bleached out. The ends of some strands were blond.

  Emma thought about Blue, of kissing her, and her body ached at the thought. She closed her eyes, trying to summon willpower. The only way to make things better was to break it off with Blue. Emma knew if she continued to see Blue, she'd wind up sleeping with Donovan again. She couldn't go running to cry on Hunter's shoulder a second time after the same stupid move. Taking a breath, Emma pulled up the Lyft app and ordered herself a car.