Brat

by Alicia Michaels

  Chase had pulled my car up to the curb and quickly trotted ahead of me, opening the passenger door. “I’ll drive,” he said.

  Normally, I was too anal to let anyone drive my red mustang—a graduation gift from my parents—but as exhausted as pregnancy had made me, I didn’t have it in me to care this time. Besides, my mind was so occupied with how to break the news to my parents that I was glad I could spend the four hours to Dallas playing out every scenario in my head. Hopefully by the time I got there, I’d have some kind of plan.

  By the time Chase and I stood in the foyer of the massive, three-story house I’d grown up in, I still didn’t have a strategy. The long drive had taken a toll on me and all I wanted was to sleep.

  “Wow,” Chase whispered as Sandra, the maid, answered the door, a striped apron over her T-shirt and jeans and her blonde hair in a messy bun. His eyes were wide as he surveyed the stark, clean, modern lines of the décor and the austere cleanliness. “I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be,” I muttered. “It’s just a house.”

  “I was being sarcastic,” he responded with a smirk. “It’s all very ostentatious.”

  “Miss Chloe!” Sandra exclaimed in her thick Southern accent. The housekeeper/cook had been working for my family since I was in high school. I assumed her salary was outrageous—why else would she put up with my mother? Even a nun would have charged extra to put up with that kind of torture. “Your mama told me to expect you today. I was just finishing up lunch for you guys. And you must be Chloe’s guy friend. My goodness, aren’t you adorable? I’m Sandra, the housekeeper. I hope you like gumbo!”

  Thinking of Sandra’s shrimp and sausage-filled gumbo, I cringed. “Um, Sandra, Chase doesn’t eat meat.”

  His cheeks flushed crimson when Sandra gasped. “It’s okay, really,” he insisted at the same time Sandra exclaimed, “Oh, well I’ll just whip something else up for him then!”

  “Thanks Sandra,” I said, my stomach already turning at the smell of gumbo wafting from the kitchen. Usually, I loved her signature dish, but apparently Blob had different ideas.

  “You really don’t have to,” Chase protested, shifting uncomfortably.

  Sandra smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners and smile lines appearing around her mouth. “It’s no trouble at all, honey! Chloe, your mama’s out on the deck waiting for you. Why don’t you kids head on out there and I’ll serve lunch in a bit?”

  “Sounds good,” I said, grabbing Chase’s arm and leaving our bags in the foyer.

  Chase frowned, gazing at Sandra over his shoulder as she bustled back into the kitchen, singing ‘Mustang Sally’ in that warbled way of hers. “You shouldn’t have told her to cook something else for me,” he said. “It was unnecessary.”

  I rolled my eyes and tugged him harder. “Oh, unwind your panties! Sandra loves to cook, and taking care of us is her job—one that she gets a huge salary and great benefits to do—so lighten up. She would have insisted if I’d told her not to. Trust me, she’s been with us long enough that I know how she is.”

  He shook his head. “You’re even more spoiled than I thought.”

  I laughed as we crossed through the large, open living room, heading toward the sliding glass doors leading out to the massive deck. “And here you thought you could handle me. You’re so cute.”

  His hand found my hip and gave it a squeeze before playfully slapping one of my butt cheeks. Not going to lie, I kind of liked it. “I think I’m more than up to the task of handling you, princess,” he growled.

  Nudging him with my shoulder, I put a bit of distance between us. “Just so you know, my mom is a nutcase and a drunk,” I said, pausing with my hand on the glass door. “My dad can barely stand her and they’ve been married for twenty-five years.”

  “Sounds charming.”

  I slid the door open, stepping out onto the shaded deck facing the pool and hot tub, surrounded by our sprawling, perfectly landscaped back yard. The deck itself was set out like an outdoor living room, with designer furniture in shades of teal, chocolate brown, and white. Large flower pots were bursting with colorful blossoms that my mom pretended she watered herself when the ladies from the country club came over for lunch. There was an outdoor kitchen complete with wet bar, gas range, outdoor burners, and umbrella-covered table large enough to seat six. Thick rugs covered the wooden surface of the deck, and several lounge chairs faced the pool area, which was surrounded with more lounge chairs. Another wet bar was located on the other end of the pool, close to the hot tub.

  “This is crazy cool,” Chase whispered, his eyes widened. “Remind me why you hate this place so much?”

  “It’s not the house,” I retorted. “It’s the people who live here.”

  Lounging in one of the white chairs beside the pool was a lipo-suctioned, nipped, and tucked figure in a red bikini. Large sunglasses covered half her face, and her oiled body soaked up the rays. A martini glass was balanced in one manicured hand.

  Chase’s jaw dropped as we paused at the deck’s railing. “That’s your mom?”

  I sighed. “Unfortunately. Don’t be fooled, it’s a train wreck up close. Mom!”

  A wide smile stretched across her face as she noticed us standing there. She made a big production of standing and wrapping herself in a red cover-up and slipping her feet into a pair of matching mules, all while still maintaining a grip on her martini glass. She sashayed toward us, her heels clicking on the concrete.

  “Baby!” she called out, her arms open wide as she came up the short staircase to the deck. “I’m so happy to see you!”

  Yeah right, mommy dearest.

  A tight smile pulled at my mouth as I endured her hug. “Hi, Mom. This is Chase.”

  She whipped off her glasses, giving Chase a full view of the atrocity plastic surgery had made of her face. Collagen-puffed lips were freakish in a face that had been lifted a bit too high. There was a surprised sort of effect going on, with eyes too wide and cheekbones too sharp. Her blonde hair was a few shades darker than mine—a tad closer to what my natural shade looked like, and her blue eyes were identical to mine.

  “Well,” she said, eyeing Chase a little too closely for my liking. “Aren’t you a tasty little thing?”

  Chase cleared his throat and extended his hand to her. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Sanders.”

  Mom ignored his outstretched hand and went in for a hug, pressing her oversized, silicone boobs against him. “Oh, honey, we’re huggers in this house!”

  Right. We were the freakin’ Cleavers. Chase hugged her back awkwardly, patting her shoulder politely. “When will Dad be here?” I asked, hoping to distract her from the tractor beam of hotness that was Chase. Before long she’d be feeling up his bicep.

  Mom waved a hand through the air dismissively. “Who knows? That man is a workaholic, I tell you. It’s going to be the death of him.”

  Oh, she’d like that; for him to keel over and leave her with a sizeable sum to add to the trust fund she came into the marriage with. I wouldn’t be surprised if the autopsy turned up poison or some other form of foul play. My parents’ hatred for each other wasn’t exactly a secret.

  “He said he’d be home Saturday, but didn’t mention what time,” she added. “Or maybe he did, I forget.”

  “Okay, sounds good. When he gets here, I’d like it if we could all have dinner and talk. It’s important.”

  Mom gave Chase a sly grin. “I’ll just bet it is. Come on sweetheart, spill! You’re going to make an honest woman of my little girl, aren’t you?”

  “It’s nothing like that,” I said before Chase could answer.

  She gave us an exaggerated wink. “All right then, if that’s how you want it.”

  “Seriously, Mom, no one is getting married. I told you, I’m focused on school. It’s my senior year.”

  Mom took Chase’s arm and—yes, she groped his bicep—led him toward the table with me trailing behind. “You know, Chase, this little girl of mine really does think too much.
I mean, with a face like that who needs a degree?”

  “Yeah, it would be so easy to just nab herself a rich husband and live her life as one of the real housewives of Dallas,” Chase said drily.

  “Exactly!” she replied, serious as a heart attack and oblivious to the sarcasm in Chase’s tone. “But she’s got this whole journalism thing in her head and her daddy never could say no to her. When she packed her bags for college, he just went on and wrote her a big fat check to indulge her.”

  More like he wrote a big fat check to get rid of me. You don’t have to deal with what you don’t see every day—not that he hardly saw me before I left home.

  “Well, I for one like an independent woman,” Chase said, giving me a little wink from across the table.

  “Isn’t that nice,” Mom said with a ridiculously juvenile giggle. “You modern men are so different from the men of my day.”

  “Nothing like a little feminism to shake things up,” Chase quipped.

  Just then, Sandra appeared toting a tray of covered dishes. She set bowls of gumbo in front of Mom and me, and a plate with one of her famous fried green tomato and spicy remoulade sandwiches in front of Chase.

  “I hope you like it,” she said. “My nephew is a vegetarian and he loves it.”

  “Looks great,” Chase assured her. “Thank you.”

  “Thanks, Sandra,” I echoed, internally commanding Blob to eat his soup and like it.

  Sandra served iced tea, leaving the pitcher behind. “Y’all just holler if you need anything. I’ll just be in the kitchen.”

  “A vegetarian?” Mom raised an eyebrow as she sipped her iced tea. “How unusual. You certainly don’t need to diet, honey, you’ve got a smashing figure.”

  Chase cleared his throat again. “Thank you, but it’s not a diet thing.”

  “Chase loves animals, Mom,” I cut in. “He doesn’t like to eat them.”

  If anything she fell even more in love with him then. I couldn’t wait to tell her that his dead father used to be a plumber … that would break the spell for sure. We spent the rest of the meal listening to her gush about how endearing Chase’s eating preferences were. The conversation took a turn at some point to the country club and some masquerade ball she and her girlfriends were planning. By the end I was even more exhausted than I had been upon arriving, and already regretting coming. I wondered idly if it were too late to go home and just tell my parents the news in an email.

  Chapter 7

  That night, Chase and I escaped the house for a trip to the Galleria. I never missed an opportunity to burn a hole in my credit card at one of the best malls in Dallas, and with him there to carry my bags I could really get in some retail therapy.

  “So, your mom is … interesting,” Chase remarked as I flipped through a rack of BCBG tops.

  “Yeah, she’s a real barrel of laughs.”

  Chase chuckled. “Come on, she doesn’t seem so bad. Maybe a bit … ignorant, but not bad.”

  I shot him a look over the rack. “You don’t know her,” I snapped. “Don’t let that little performance she put on fool you. She only acts like that when I bring people home so she can seem like a normal mom who’s actually interested in her kid’s life. The truth is, she didn’t even want to have me but my dad forced the issue. I’m not sure exactly when my parents started hating each other, but if I had to guess, I’d probably say it was the day my mom realized my dad had gotten what he wanted: a kid to mold in his sick little image. Of course, I had to mess things up by being born a girl.”

  Chase frowned. “Seriously? People still think like that in this day and age?”

  “Rich people with estates, fortunes, companies, and legacies to pass down do,” I told him, slamming the hanger back onto the rack and turning to inspect a mannequin draped in a black dress. “My mom resents me for ruining her figure and daring to demand any of her attention or time at all. She only took interest in me when it could gain her something—like rich, connected in-laws, or influential friends. It’s why she set me up with my woman-beating ex, Eric, and why she spent so much money on etiquette and dance lessons so I could do that stupid debutante ball.”

  One of Chase’s eyebrows rose and he fought back a smile. “Debutante ball? Do you mean to tell me there is a photo somewhere in that house of you in a foofy white dress, promenading around in a ballroom?”

  I wrinkled my nose as I moved on past the dress and went on to inspect another. This one was looser, and would make room for my growing belly. I refused to shop at a maternity store and wear those misshapen, ugly tops. Just … no.

  “Yes, but I’ll never tell you where.”

  “I have all weekend to find it,” he jibed. His face grew serious then. “I think I’m starting to understand you more and more, princess,” he said gently. “I guess being born rich isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  Snatching the flowing maxi dress off its rack, I turned on him, brushing past him and making for a rack displaying jewelry. “It’s not all bad. I have this nifty little credit card I can use to get whatever I want.”

  “Things, which you use to replace people and relationships,” he said. “Or a ploy to get Daddy’s attention. Does it work?”

  “Only when I charge something big like a jet ski or a party bus. Are you finished with your evaluation, Dr. Phil?”

  Chase fell silent after that, following me from store to store as I indulged myself in a shopping spree to rival any other. I needed a distraction, even if it meant buying clothes I’d probably never wear. I already had a closet overflowing back in Austin, and another one here in Dallas, brimming with stuff I eventually either gave away, or wore only once before forgetting about them completely. We grabbed a quick dinner at a Chinese spot in the mall before returning to the house. Fortunately, my mom was having dinner with her country club friends and wasn’t home to sexually assault Chase.

  “I’m really tired,” I said once Chase had helped me carry my bags up to my room. “I think I’ll crash early. See you in the morning.”

  Chase seemed taken aback to be dismissed so abruptly, but I really was exhausted. I already had very little energy to begin with; our shopping excursion had zapped the very last of it.

  “Okay,” he said. “Sure. Sandra put me right next door if you need me for anything.”

  I glanced into the bathroom and the connecting door leading to the guestroom Chase was staying in. “Sneaky little thing,” I murmured. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  Chase nodded. “Okay. Good night.”

  He exited through the bathroom, leaving me alone for the first time all day. I took my time getting ready for bed, indulging in a long bath in the garden tub and rubbing on my favorite lavender-scented lotion. I pulled on a pair of new pajamas I’d just bought, black satin shorts and a matching tank. Pausing before leaving the bathroom, I listened for any sound from the other side of the door. Drawn to it, I pressed my ear to the wood and listened, closing my eyes. I could hear the murmur of his voice on the other end talking on the phone. I couldn’t make out words, but I guessed he was talking to his mom. I wondered what kind of woman she was. Was she a socially conscious vegetarian like him? Was she a kind woman who liked to bake pies like Jenn’s mother, or a white trash junkie like Luke’s? She had to be some kind of woman to have raised a guy like Chase.

  After a while I pulled away from the door, closing it and backing toward my room. I reminded myself how stupid it would be to pursue a relationship with him. In the end, there was no way it would work; we were just too different. In the end someone would get hurt, and it would likely be Chase. A person as jaded and cynical as me would eat a guy like Chase alive. As much as I tried to pretend I didn’t care about him, I truly did. Hurting him was the last thing I ever wanted to do. So, resisting the urge to go back to the door and knock, I slid between the covers and surrendered to sleep, content to let the fantasies I’d been having about Chase play themselves out in my dreams.

  My dad arrived the following afternoon.
Sandra came out to the pool, where me and Chase had decided to indulge in a little swim before dinner and the inevitable conversation to follow.

  “Miss Chloe, your father just arrived,” she said.

  “Okay. Thanks, Sandra,” I said, clinging to the pool’s edge. I turned to Chase as he swam toward me from the other end, emerging with his hair slicked to his head and neck. “Well, guess we can’t avoid it anymore.”

  He treaded water beside me. “Are you ready?”

  I shrugged. “No, but it’s not like I have an unlimited amount of time here. I’ve only got a few more weeks tops before I start showing, and then the cat’s out of the bag.”

  “Okay. Well, it’ll be like pulling off a Band-Aid. It’ll hurt, but if you do it fast, the sting will fade just as quickly.”

  I scowled at him as I climbed out of the pool. “Wow, you should work for Hallmark or something. Where do you come up with those little pearls?”

  He laughed as he followed me from the pool, dripping onto the concrete. “Just gifted I guess.”

  We toweled off and went into the house, parting ways at the doors to our rooms. My dad had already disappeared into his office, the one room in the house my mother never went, and I knew we wouldn’t see him until dinner was served. After I was showered, blow-dried, made-up, and dressed, I knocked on Chase’s door to see if he was ready. My jaw dropped when he answered wearing jeans and a black T-shirt with the white outline of a girl in a bathtub on it. Beneath it in bold letters read: “Save water, bathe with the neighbor’s daughter”. His curls were in their usual disarray, but at least he’d bothered to shave. Shaking my head, I entered his room, slamming the bathroom door behind me.

  “Oh no,” I said. “You can’t meet my dad dressed like that, he’ll eat you alive.”

  Chase glanced down at his clothes. “Hey, these are my best jeans.”