Page 142 of The Dollhouse

I said not a thing as I slid into the seat between my sister and her, my clutch resting on my lap. I’d wait until later to share the video. My mother would not be too thrilled with me being on my phone at the table, and it looked like Willow didn’t even have her phone with her, which meant it was probably upstairs.

That was fine. My parents always had after dinner drinks, so I’d be sharing the video then. Even if Roman and Carter never showed up, I’d make tonight count. I’d make Willow snap, and she’d do it in front of the Oakes—two people who currently thought she was an angel… two people who also had the ears of the community. Depending on how crazy Willow got, I doubted they’d keep tonight’s events to themselves.

I supposed I should be thankful that the Oakes were the typical rich people who were so caught up in their own shit, so lost high up in their own asses, that they didn’t even realize it wasn’t good that Bryan had lost all contact with them, along with the PI he’d hired.

The wait staff brought in the first course, which was some kind of soup. The manners my mother had instilled in me from a young age came creeping back, and I took a spoonful, eyeing the others at the table.

Willow absentmindedly swirled her spoon in the soup, while the Oakes commented on how delicious it was. And then Mrs. Oakes asked if she could get the recipe, to which my mother replied that she’d have the staff copy it for her before the night was over.

It was all very… boring. Again, so fucking boring. I didn’t miss any of this. The food that was so bland it had next to no taste, the constant need to have perfect posture no matter what you were doing, and the stupid, ridiculous conversations that were no more than small talk in disguise.

“So,” Mrs. Oakes spoke, staring at me across the table, “your mother tells me you’re seeing someone else. I was looking forward to meeting him tonight.” Her way of asking without asking why my boyfriend wasn’t here. She’d undoubtedly heard how much older than me he was from my mother, since they’d met Roman at that party.

“Seems a little odd to me that you’d start seeing someone before breaking things off with Bryan,” Mr. Oakes said, flicking a quick, almost imperceptible glare in my direction before returning his attention to the soup in front of him.

I set my spoon down, staring at the two people across from me. “I don’t know what Bryan told you, but I did break things off with him before I left.” Beside me, Willow chuckled, and I had to bite my tongue in order to stop myself from saying anything to her. She had no reason to find this amusing. “Whether he believed we were broken up or not doesn’t matter. I left him when I left this place. And he did want to come tonight, but he had a job to do.” I turned my head slightly, towards my sister. “An important job that couldn’t wait.”

While Mr. Oakes fumed a little, my mother spoke, “Ah, is he a businessman? I’m afraid I don’t remember his name—”

“His name is Roman,” I said.

Willow laughed outright at that, and it was so sudden everyone had to look at her. Once she had all eyes on her, she stared at me, and I knew what she was about to say before she said it. “You mean Zoey hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?” our mother asked.

“Zoey’s got more than one,” Willow declared proudly, as if she thought she was doing me a huge disservice by announcing it to the table. When my mother leaned around me to stare at her, wordlessly asking her what she meant, she explained, “More than one boyfriend. I met the other. His name is Carter. But, wait, do you have another one, Zoey?”

Mrs. Oakes inhaled, unable to keep her manners as she demanded, “What? Tell me this isn’t true, Zoey.”

“Yes,” my mother said. “Tell me you didn’t turn into a whore when you ran away from us like a coward.” She sounded the opposite of a loving, caring mother, but she was exactly the mother I remembered.

“You know,” I said, pointedly glancing at Willow, “I find it ironic you’re calling me a whore when you have another daughter that has a thing for sleeping with men who are already taken. If anyone here is a whore, shouldn’t it be Willow?”

“Shut up,” Willow growled out. She held onto her fork like she wanted to stab me.

My father was busy shaking his head, asking, “What the hell is this about more than one boyfriend?” His mouth hung open, and he was late to the conversation. His head turned toward the Oakes, who clearly didn’t know what to say in this situation.

Mrs. Oakes whispered, “Zoey, please, don’t do this to Bryan. He cares for you, and you’re running behind his back, sleeping around with more than one man? I thought your mother raised you better than that.” The last part was meant as an insult to both me and my mother, and my mother flinched when she said it.

Because she couldn’t salvage the situation, my mother clapped her hands, signaling the help that the first course was done. A group of older women hurried into the room, making nary a peep as they took the soup bowls away from us. They returned with covered dishes, setting them in front of each of us, along with giving us wine. Well, minus Willow and me; we got sparkling water. Ooh.

Dinner was some kind of meat with steamed vegetables. I wasn’t too hungry, so I didn’t eat too much of it. I knew most of the table stared at me, so I kept my eyes glued to the plate before me, lifting them only as I went for the sparkling water.

The table was quiet. Oddly quiet, for a long time. The sounds of silverware scraping against the plates, the sounds of chewing and swallowing, were all I could hear. I pretended not to give a shit, but I could feel the tension at the table rising to a boiling point. Sooner or later someone would speak, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

And, what you know, it was my mother who had to speak first. She all but slammed her silverware down, whipping her head in my direction, her lips thinning into a line. “I’m sorry, Zoey. I have tried to be understanding, but this… this is just too much. More than one boyfriend? What were you thinking? Not to mention that ridiculous hair. We have guests tonight,” she said, referencing the Oakes. “Do you have any idea how embarrassed you make me?” She didn’t even give me time to answer, adding under her breath, “Some days I wish I never would’ve had children.”

“Mom,” Willow hissed, taking insult from what she’d said. “Just because Zoey messed up doesn’t mean—”

“Oh, stop pretending you are innocent in this. You’re the reason your sister left to begin with, Willow,” my mother snapped. “If you could’ve found your own boyfriend to fool around with, we wouldn’t be here right now. Don’t you for a second think you are not equally to blame.” Grinding her teeth, my mother resumed eating, though it was clear she still fumed.

That shut Willow up, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I forced some of the food down. Well, it was good to know beneath theeverything is perfectfacade my mother wore, she knew things were pretty fucked up.

To say the dinner turned awkward after that would be the year’s biggest understatement, I think. No one knew quite what to say after my mother’s outburst, not even my father. Willow had been sufficiently put in her place, and I was more than okay with being the black sheep of the family. I’d switched from the golden child who only wanted to do everything her parents told her to gain their unending approval to the pink-haired black sheep no one wanted to reference, look at, or even think about.

But I was fine with that. It wasn’t like I planned on coming back here after everything was done. I’d do what I’d promised to Markus, and then I was gone.

Desert rolled around after a while, and it was some chocolate mousse that was so small I could’ve fit the entire fucking thing in my mouth without even trying. But everyone took tiny bits of it with their forks, so that’s what I did. Nothing on the Roman and Carter front, but that was fine. This dinner was winding down, anyway.

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