His sudden pissy attitude fuels my irritation. I bite my tongue, afraid I’ll say something that will be far from lady-like, and simply nod. He takes my elbow and I keep my head down as he leads me to the center of the room where his parents stand. Drew clears his throat and I straighten, smiling politely.
“Mom, Dad, this is Cassey Emerson. My date.”
Drew’s parents eye me from head to toe.
“Cassey,” he says, looking at me. “These are my parents. Joanne and Clive Blake.”
The plastic smiles stays fixed on my face and I stick my hand out to greet them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I greet politely. “And congratulations on your wedding anniversary. Jarred and Drew speak fondly of both of you.” Drew’s mother accepts my hand, though she touches it like it’s diseased. “Drew,” she says, ignoring me. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing a date.” “Joanne.” Drew’s father gives his wife a stern look and then takes my hand. I’m surprised when he places a gentle kiss on my knuckles. I expected him to greet me no better than his wife did. “It’s a pleasure to meet you my dear. Thank you for joining us. I do hope you will enjoy your evening.” “Thank you,” I reply.
Drew’s parents are greeted by several other friends and Drew joins in their conversation.
He makes no gesture to introduce me. In fact, he’s acting as if I don’t exist. When I excuse myself, the only person who shows the tiniest bit of acknowledgement is Drew’s father, Clive.
I don’t miss the way his guests look at me, like they can smell that I’m out of place. I walk away from their group, head held high, no matter how small I feel right at this moment. The tears I can feel welling up threaten to spill so I bite the inside of my mouth to keep them at bay, at least until I’m alone. I escape the banquet room, mostly unnoticed, and go in search of the bathroom. When the ‘click’ of the door sounds behind me, I close the toilet and take a seat just as hot liquid escapes over the rims of my eyes. I’ve never been ashamed of who I am or where I come from. I used it to my advantage, to drive me to make something better of myself, my life. But the way these people looked at me, like they know I’m not part of this world, has left me feeling abashed. I wrap some toilet paper around my fingers and dab under my eyes. The sight of my smudged and ruined make-up spurs up sudden anger. I don’t have to prove myself to these people, nor do I have to change just to fit in. I may not have attended a fancy prep school or grown up in a mansion with maids and butlers to cater to my every whim, but I worked my ass off in college to be more than what I came from. Damn these horrid snobs I tell myself. Damn them all to hell. I gather my pride, and my composure, and step out of the safety of the cubicle. At first glance, the mirror reveals what I already know. My make-up is ruined and I have the worst case of raccoon eyes ever. So much for waterproof mascara. I open my clutch, grateful that I remembered my emergency make-up bag. I wipe away the smudges of black under my eyes and apply fresh concealer, followed by a new coat of mascara. I add a bit of color to my cheeks, more so to hide the redness from crying than anything, and as I swipe my nude gloss across my lips, the bathroom door swings open. I’ve never seen Jessa Price up close until now.
Sure, I’ve seen her in every female glossy magazine in publication, along with a few gossip magazines, but not like this.
I can definitely see what all the fuss is about though.
Her red hair is fiery, and from what I hear it matches her personality. Her complexion is creamy, like porcelain, and her skin is as flawless as it looks in those skin care adverts. Her legs are long, longer than I mine since she looks to be a head taller than I am, and connect to what men would describe as the perfect ass. But none of those are part of the reason why I’m jealous of her. No. Only one thing has made me hate her before even knowing her and it’s the fact that I caught her in Kyler’s lap yesterday and that she’s here with him tonight. And yes, I hate her for it, but I won’t analyze why seeing them together has me unglued. She catches me staring and her Angelina Jolie like lips lift into a knowing smirk. Bitch. I roll my eyes and put my lip gloss back in my clutch. Now that my make-up is fixed, and I’ve given myself a ‘pep talk’, I feel ready to get this night over with, without the courtesy of another mini breakdown. You’ve got this Cass, I remind myself. I step into the hallway, making my way back towards the banquet room, and find Quinn arguing with Jarred. Her hands flap around, making dramatic gestures that only Quinn can, while he stares at her angrily, hands on his hips. They haven’t seen me yet, so I take a step closer in the hopes that I can hear what’s going on without getting caught. “I can’t believe you’re defending him,” she snaps angrily. “After he’s been a dick to her all night.”
Jarred sighs, clearly exasperated with their argument.“He’s my brother, Quinn. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Quinn huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s the stance she takes when she’s really pissed. “And she’s my best friend, Jarred. Do you think I didn’t notice how he ignored her in company? Or how he didn’t say anything after that shit your mother pulled? I won’t even mention the fact that he insulted her earlier this week by referring to her lack of money!”
Jarred frowns. “What shit?”
“Oh for God’s sake! Just never mind. Your brother is a total douchecanoe and I’m so done with this conversation.”
I take that as my cue and walk up to them as if I didn’t just hear their entire argument. I didn’t realize Quinn was close enough to see what happened with Drew’s mother, or how he’s been treating me this entire evening until now. “Hey guys,” I greet, trying for nonchalance. They startle and both look at me like deer’s caught in headlights. Quinn scowls at Jarred one last time and then hooks her arm in mine. “I need a drink,” she states. We make our way to the bar and order two shots of tequila and two whiskeys on ice. We wait for the barman to get our drinks.
“What was that all about?” I ask her casually.
“Nothing. Jarred got upset because I almost lost my shit with his brother. If I’d known he was going to treat you so poorly I would have never encouraged you to be his date tonight.” Her eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry, Cass. I can see you’re not having the best time.”
I shrug. “I didn’t know you saw what happened with Drew’s mother.” “I was walking past, and even if I hadn’t seen what she did, I would’ve wanted you to tell me. I seriously wanted to kick Drew in the nutsack for not saying anything to his mother.”
“It’s fine, it’s not like I have to see any of these people ever again. Except your parents.” I chuckle. “But at least they like me, poor girl status and all.” Quinn smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s the only person I’ve ever told about the kind of life I really lived before college. I don’t think I could’ve found a worthier friend in this city, even if I wanted to. We are more than best friends. We’re sisters.
The barman places our drinks in front of us and we grab the tequila shots first. “To douchecanoes and mamma’s boys!” I say, lifting my shot glass. My Southern accent rears its head at the end and Quinn chuckles. We tilt the glasses back. The hard liquor burns all the way down my throat and warms my belly.