“Great heavens and earth.” Fiona slumped back on the couch two days later, her face as pale as if she had just walked through a minefield and was still unsure whether she was safe. Without saying anything else, she held up her phone, displaying her Twitter feed.
“You have a Twitter account?”
“Of course, but not in my name. Everyone in the family has an account, except you. You’re missing the point.” She shook the phone in my face, and my world crashed down around me.
Squinting at the screen, I saw a photo of Maya and me kissing. Air whooshed out of my mouth as if I’d been hit, and I snatched the phone out of her hands to examine the photo.
“When was this taken?”
Pat grabbed the phone off me. “Looks like the front of Fiona’s apartment. Is this what she was wearing that night you two brought over leftovers?”
It was. I locked eyes on Fiona.
“Don’t give me the stink eye. I’m not the one dating a billionaire’s daughter.”
“Billionaire’s daughter?” Pat exclaimed. “That’s what you found out. Maya is a modern-day Little Orphan Annie? And I thought the news was a game changer.”
It was, but how could I loop Pat in without putting Maya at risk?
“Hey, wait, there’s another photo.” Pat handed the phone back to us. It was of Ham and Mei, in bed, and then another one of Pat and Fiona smoking a joint. Next was my mother with a man I didn’t recognize, although from the looks of it, they were intimately acquainted.
“Let me guess. My pops is next.” Fiona waited, wide-eyed, but the next image was of my sister.
“Kylie?” Fee exclaimed.
“In her judge’s robes. Why?” I racked my brain.
We didn’t have time to ponder. Fiona’s father, my uncle Owen, was next. He wasn’t alone, but we knew that was coming.
Someone with the Twitter handle @EdwardGibbon had been stalking every member of our family, snapping photos for weeks, if not months. Was this Eckley’s doing? Or Susie Q’s? Others? Or were all Carmichael-haters in cahoots?
“Who would do this?” Pat asked.
“Why would anyone do this?” Fiona asked.
“Edward Gibbon? Aren’t groups like this usually called ‘Anonymous’ or something more sinister? This name seems harmless. Nerdy, even,” I said, adding my two cents.
“My guess is it’s a reference to Edward Gibbon who wrote The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,” Fiona said.
“Meaning the end of the Carmichael dynasty.” I stated the obvious, shaking my head. “Ham warned me the end was near.”
“Who would pretend to be Edward Gibbon, besides historiographers, of course?” Fee tapped her fingertips on her cheek.
“Why ‘of course’?” Pat cocked his head.
“He published in the late 1700s if memory serves me correctly. He’s a big deal within academia but not in Twitter world.” Fiona pulled a face.
I sat up straight. “Wait. Did he come up with ‘Revenge is profitable, gratitude is expensive’ line?”
“That sounds familiar.” Fee queried her cell.
“Remember I received a text with that quote. I thought Susie sent it after Fart Gate.”
“Yep. That was Gibbon.” Fiona set her phone aside.
“I need to call Ham.”
“Ham? Why Ham?”
“He knows about the quotes. He’s been getting them as well.”
“Quotes?” She put a hand to her breast. “You’ve received more and went to Ham and didn’t even tell me?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer. My phone rang, immediately followed by Fiona’s. We knew, without answering, we were being summoned. Time to circle the wagons. Time to get off the grid and retreat to a fortress where photographers and the press couldn’t reach us. Neither of us answered our phones. It wasn’t necessary.
“We should get going,” I said. “We can talk in the car.”
Fee nodded. “Pat, go get Maya. We’ll meet you there.”
“Why?” Pat asked.
“Please, Pat. The poor girl has never had to deal with this before. Media dogs will be crawling all over her like she’s Princess Diana back from the dead. Something tells me Maya won’t like that and—”
“What about Agnes?” Pat interrupted. This was his first official Carmichael rally around the flag, but he wasn’t thinking like an amateur, and thank God for that; my mind was reeling so much I wasn’t thinking of the big picture: Maya and Agnes.
“Yes, please get her, too. I can’t bear to think…” Fiona gave him a shove to get him going.
“Where does Maya live?” He gripped his car keys like they were a weapon.
“She’s at work,” I said.
Pat nodded and left.
“Are you sure we should bring Maya into the viper’s den?” I asked Fiona once the coast was clear. A vision of Grandmother having one of her goons escort Maya and Agnes out of her house invaded my mind. “What if she tosses them out?”
“It’s a risk we have to take. Look, we’ve never dealt with a man like Eckley. I’m not ashamed to admit we’re in over our heads. Grandmother and the goons will know what to do. Ham obviously didn’t take care of the problem.” Her facial expression softened. “I know you’ve been itching to declare your independence, but now isn’t the time. Think of Maya.” She put a hand on each of my shoulders. “She and Agnes need Grandmother in their corner. Besides, Maya is in one of the photos. The old lady will want her off the grid and not chatting with bloggers.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. Once Grandmother is in their corner, how do we get her out?”
“One problem at a time, Ains. One problem at a time.”
***
Grandmother sat in her plush chair in her “office,” aka her bedroom. It wasn’t a typical bedroom. It had a bed, of course, but that was on the other side of an elaborate Chinese-silk screen none of us were allowed behind. Fiona had once dared me to peek, but the plan was foiled by Grandmother’s assistant, who always popped up like a ninja at inopportune moments. The room also contained a desk, a couch, and several wing chairs. Grandmother, of course, only sat in the largest and most luxurious chair. Dragon-red, it resembled a throne.
“Chuck has been busy.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. How did she know about Chuck?
“Don’t stand there with your mouth open, catching flies. There’s not much I don’t know. Every time Fiona pings Chuck, he alerts my staff.” She didn’t even have the decency to look conniving; she looked bored, like I should have known all along. And I should have. What an amateur move!
“So when I told you about Maya, you already knew everything?” I said, trying to stop my revulsion from registering in my voice.
Grandmother waved me away. “Please, Ainsley. I don’t have time for questions you already know the answers to. You used to be bright.”
What in the hell did that mean?
She leaned on her cane with both hands. “And you used to be one of my favorites. Hard as nails, you were, always putting the quest first.”
Why was she talking like Yoda? Although she was just as wrinkled and frail as the Jedi Master.
Tears formed in my eyes, but I willed them away.
“Do you want to know what I plan to do?” she asked.
Actually, I preferred not knowing a thing, but that wasn’t an option. Grandmother always had to be pulling all the strings, and she made damn sure we understood who the puppet master was.
“The way I see it,” she said through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated by my zipped trap, “is this relationship will run its course in due time, so why not end it now?”
Run its course! She said it like Maya was a dose of the flu.
“I don’t have the flu, Grandmother.” I resisted the urge to spit the word “Grandmother” with more venom. “I’m not infatuated with Maya. I’m in love with her.”
She raised an eyebrow, implying “so what?”
I gave her my best steely-eyed
glare.
“And you think you have a future with this girl? You are aware of her mother, of course.”
Was the Eckley ball about to drop?
“Do you really think you can be with a girl whose mother was a whore?”
“She wasn’t a whore,” I spat.
“Mistress, whore, the other woman—none of it will look good. We’ve cultivated your narrative since before you were born, Ainsley. We’ve conducted focus tests on so many scenarios. Maya was never in the equation. There are plenty of other girls—respectable girls. I’ve already got my eye on three potential—”
“You can’t force me to love someone else!”
A bark of laughter exploded from her chest, surprising the hell out of me because I didn’t think she had that much energy left. “I’m not asking you to love anyone. Marriage and love…” She waved away the connection between the two like she was swatting away a bothersome gnat.
“What made you this way?” I asked.
My grandmother flinched slightly. “Don’t be impertinent.”
“I’m not. I want to understand. You’ve been controlling all of our lives for decades now. What gave you that power?”
Her smile suggested an evilness I hadn’t considered. “You don’t get it. I don’t need anyone’s permission, and you’re ignoring that this family would be nowhere without me.”
“Only if we let you.”
“What would you do without me? My connections? My money?” Her voice was getting stronger. I was clearly pressing the right buttons, or the wrong ones.
“And if I don’t want your connections or your money, what then?” I crossed my arms, not out of defiance, just to still my shaking body.
“Oh, you silly girl! You think you have life all figured out. You’re just like your father. He stood there once, telling me he was in love. He did as he was told.”
“I’m not my father. I’m not my mother. And I’m sure as hell not you.”
“But you are a Carmichael.” She stood shakily and ambled toward me, the tap of her cane accompanying each step. Stretching out bony fingers, she gripped my jaw. “You have a decision to make. Maya or me.”
I winced, surprised by the strength of her fingers, her nails digging into my flesh.
Then I smiled. She mirrored my smile, sure I was going to make the right choice. “I choose both.”
To her credit, Grandmother didn’t scream. She stood there, leaning on her cane, with a look in her eyes I’d never seen before. I wish I could say she looked beaten, but that would be a lie. Her wily brain was busily plotting against me, and I almost thumped my chest and said, “Bring it, old woman.”
“And how do you think that’ll work?”
“Because you need me as much as I need you. I’m the Chosen One, remember? I’m the one you’ve been grooming.”
“As simple as that, you think you can make demands of me?”
“I’d rather we work together. Times are changing, Grandmother. Wake up. People are coming after this family, and if we’re not smart, they’ll win.”
She cackled. “Little Ainsley thinks she’s holding the winning hand. When are you going to learn I can make you or break you? I don’t work with you or anyone.” She dismissed me with a nod of her head. “Think about it.”
***
Fiona stood outside Grandmother’s door.
“Have you been out here the whole time?” I straightened my shirt.
She nodded. “How’d it go?”
When she saw my face, she strode over, gave me one of her curt nods, and said, “Well, now. And then there was only us.”
I started to protest, saying this was my fight, but her palm in the air made it clear.
My cell rang. Ham. Before I could say hello, my brother said, “I take it I should come over to The Cottage.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t think that would be wise. Grandmother is on the warpath.”
“Probably not. But I’m coming anyway. I have to meet this Maya.” I could feel the smile in his voice. “Besides, I have some information.” He hung up before I could register another complaint.
“Circling the wagons around the new leader,” Fiona said to no one in particular.
I didn’t like the sound of it. Ham wasn’t Grandmother, but he was still power hungry. And if Chuck had been on her payroll the entire time, what did that mean about Tess and Rita?
***
Ham arrived with more information about the Twitter-bombing of our family. Apparently, a website claiming responsibility had popped up overnight. According to the site, the Carmichaels were filled with dykes (me), heroin addicts (Rory), chinks (Mei), adulterers (Mom and Uncle Owen), druggies (Fiona), and my personal fave, witches. At first, I supposed they meant Grandmother, but the photographer had snapped an image of my sister in her judge’s robes and mistaken her for a practicing sorceress. Even my super-serious and uptight sister giggled when she heard that news. She wasn’t bothered enough by her Web image to consider flying home.
Edward Gibbon didn’t stop with the living Carmichaels, either. A litany of accusations about deceased Carmichaels and questions about Uncle Liam’s disappearance had been published on the site as well. Pretty much every Carmichael disgrace had been smeared all over the Web. I cringed at the thought of how many people were viewing the Cassidy video, which was prominently displayed on the home page.
The name of the website was clear: The Fall of the Carmichael Reign. Given the amount of dirt they’d dug up, the title wasn’t far off the mark. But why now?
My mind skittered to Maya and Eckley.
Chapter Twenty
Pat pulled up in front of The Cottage in his beat-up Volvo with a bewildered-looking Agnes and Maya in the back. What would they think of me and of my family now? All they’d wanted was to fly under the radar, and today Maya’s photo was smeared all over the Internet. I sighed. Fiona rubbed my back before shoving me out the door to greet them.
“Thanks,” I told her over my shoulder, “for keeping it real.”
She smiled sheepishly. “Right now, it isn’t about you. Remember that.”
I dipped my head in shame. She was right, as usual. No feeling sorry for myself. Now that Maya’s photo was out there, investigative journalists and bloggers wouldn’t let her be. The truth would come out. Maya would never be a nobody again, and it was my fault.
Agnes stepped out of the car first, grinning when her eyes landed on me. “There you are!” She embraced me, and all the tension melted from my body.
Maya, still in her work clothes, was standing next to her, but she gave no indication she was relieved to see me. “Shell-shocked” was the word that came to mind when I stared into her glassy gray eyes.
“It’s going to be okay,” Agnes reassured us both.
“You aren’t mad?” I asked.
Agnes waved the idea away. “You can’t control the nutjobs in this world. The only person you are responsible for is you. Remember that, or you’ll drive yourself crazy.”
Oh, how I wished Grandmother had heard that. She, of course, would have wholeheartedly disagreed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I observed Pat whisk Fiona into a hug, clearly putting their relationship woes aside. She bent her head and snuggled into his chest, relieved to be in his arms. Witnessing the tenderness between the two of them made my heart ache. I could see them always having each other, while Maya and I…
I returned my gaze to Maya, but I was again met with no emotion.
Since 2003, Maya had done everything right. She had avoided the Internet and social media and she didn’t have a cell phone—she’d made it her life’s mission to go unnoticed. Then I’d entered the picture, and now she’d never be free again.
***
Fiona grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the kitchen in The Cottage. Ham had transformed the house into the headquarters for damage control. “You have to talk to them.”
“I was just talking with Agnes when you manhand
led me out of the room.” I massaged my arm.
“No, I mean you have to tell Maya and Agnes that you know.”
“Know what?” I feigned innocence, but the meaning behind her words hit me like a tsunami. My throat closed, and I gasped for breath.
“If they hear about it from someone else, it won’t be good.”
“Who here would tell?” I knew the answer, but I couldn’t admit it to myself.
Fiona cocked her head and then shook it in disbelief.
“Okay, okay. I’ll tell them.”
“Now! You need to tell them now. I’ll send them to you in the library.” Before I could stop her, Fiona left. Within moments, Maya and Agnes entered the room where I was nervously flipping the pages of a dictionary on a stand.
Maya looked even more perplexed and angry than she had when she’d arrived, and Agnes… well, she looked like Agnes—full of love. I watched her take in the wall-to-wall books, the fancy library ladders, and plush leather chairs and couches. It was a paradise for booklovers, and it made her eyes widen in amazement.
“Hiya!” I wanted to kick myself for being such an ass. Like that would that make everything all right. Come on, Ainsley. Pull it together.
From the look on Maya’s face, my hiya had definitely hit the wrong chord.
“Why don’t the two of you have a seat?” I motioned to a leather couch. They sat facing me, not speaking. Even Agnes’s smile had been replaced with a befuddled frown. Standing behind a couch opposite them, I felt farther away from Maya than I would have if I were talking to her by phone—from Egypt.
“I think it’s time I confess something.” I let out a puff of air and stared into Maya’s eyes. “Do you remember the first time we kissed?”
She turned bright red, and I realized that probably wasn’t the best way to start, not in front of Agnes. Now that it was out, though, I had no choice but to keep plugging along.
Agnes seemed amused by my discomfort and Maya’s embarrassment, so at least there was one friendly face in the room.
“After we, uh, kissed and you freaked out, well…”
Maya and Agnes stared at me, dumbfounded.
The Chosen One Page 19