Page 140 of The Dollhouse

Because it was one of those nights, apparently.

“Zoey,” my father spoke, getting to his feet immediately. He wore a dark blue suit, looking nowhere near as good as Roman or even Carter dressed up. He, unlike my mother, said nothing about the fact that I was alone when I’d told them I’d be bringing a date.

However, I wasn’t really paying much attention to either parent of mine. I was much too busy staring at the other two people in the room. Neither of which was Willow, in case you were wondering. They were, quite literally, the last two people I wanted to see in Hillcrest, two people I never imagined being in the same room as again… mostly because their son had been a massive fuckup and was now dead because of it.

Bryan’s parents. Bryan’s parents were here, and I was caught so off-guard I didn’t know what to do or say. All I could do was blink as I watched them get up off the sofa. Neither of them set down their drinks as my mother corralled me deeper into the study.

“Mr. and Mrs. Oakes,” I spoke, my throat suddenly dry. God, I could use something to drink. Something hard to take the edge off—and normally I didn’t drink. It never appealed to me much, but in this moment, I could totally understand the need to down a shot or two.

“Zoey,” Mrs. Oakes said, straining a smile as she came to hug me, carefully holding her drink off to the side as she did so. She hugged me as if her son and I were still dating, as if he hadn’t broken my heart and shattered who I thought I was. Not to mention the fact that she hadn’t seen her son since he’d disappeared in search of me. I wondered how much they knew about that. “How are you, honey?” Her voice dripped fake friendliness. She laid it on so thick I could practically feel it in the air.

“I’m good,” I said, unable to say anything else. I held my breath until the woman let me go, watching with wide eyes as she stepped beside her husband and stared at me in the most suspicious way possible.

Mr. Oakes was a man in his late forties, a few years older than my parents, though he held his age well, like most people in Hillcrest. With money enough to cover all the stress life might bring, people tended to age differently here. The only thing that signaled his age were the beginning streaks of grey near his ears.

He took my hand without me offering, shaking it in a way I could only describe as rough and terse. He said nothing, though his eyes said more than enough as he took in my pink hair.

My mother was ready to break the awkward silence of the room, quipping, “I told you how dreadfully pink her head was, but truthfully, I’d forgotten just how awful it is to see in person!” She let out a chuckle, as if she hadn’t just insulted me or my beloved hair. Mrs. Oakes laughed along with her, while my father and Mr. Oakes cringed, as if it physically pained them to look at my hair and its color.

I kind of wished they’d choke on the sight, but I guess something like that wasn’t possible.

“It’s settled,” my mother went on, “I’m calling my stylist tomorrow and setting up an appointment for you. I cannot let you continue to wander this city looking like you got lost at a rock concert.” She spoke it like an insult, and that’s because it’s precisely how she meant it. Still, it wasn’t the worst thing to have come out of her mouth.

“I already told you,” I said as we sat down, “I like my hair. I’m not changing it.” My mother sat near me, taking up my father’s previous spot. Mr. and Mrs. Oakes took up their original sofa, and while there were other places to sit in the study, my father chose to stand near mother and me.

“Nonsense,” my mother waved me off, dismissing everything I’d just said.

“So,” my father said, causing all eyes in the room to turn to him, although the Oakes were quick to bring their gazes back to me, for obvious reasons. “Isn’t it nice to see the Oakes again? It’s been a while since we had them all over for dinner.”

Mrs. Oakes nodded along, saying, “Yes, thank you for the invitation. If only we could get ahold of Bryan, then we could all be together again, just like old times.” She smiled, but her smile was taut and the very opposite of at ease. Her gaze turned accusatory, her posture shifting to show just how uneasy she was.

“You don’t have to thank me,” my mother said. “It was Willow’s idea to invite you along.” She chuckled at that, as if it was funny to bring up my little sister, the girl who’d fucked around behind my back with Bryan. The audacity of these people, seriously.

“Where is Willow, by the way?” I asked, wishing my sister would show her face so I could give her something to get pissed about. This was a low blow indeed, and I intended to go much, much lower for payback. Knowing her, she’d show up just when dinner was served.

It was my father who answered me, “She’s doing some homework upstairs, but she’ll be joining us for dinner.”

Mr. Oakes spoke, and it was as if anything my parents had said had gone right over his head—that, or he didn’t care, “Zoey, I’ve been meaning to ask you about Bryan. We’ve tried to get in touch with you after you left, but you must’ve changed your number. Have you seen him? We haven’t been able to get ahold of him for a while now.”

A while. That was an understatement of epic proportions.

“No, I haven’t seen him,” I lied. “He’s gone missing?” I thought I was a good liar; I guess this would be a true test. Only in Hillcrest would someone go missing and the police would not get involved. After all, how many times did heirs go missing simply because they decided to run away to have some fun? Usually they came back.

Usually being the keyword there.

Nodding vigorously, Mrs. Oakes said, “He actually went in search of you, Zoey. He felt awful about what transpired between you two before you ran away. It kept him up at night.” Oh, that I seriously doubted, but I said nothing, letting her continue, “He wanted to find you and ask for your forgiveness.”

I was barely able to hold back a laugh, but what Mr. Oakes said after that made my stomach twist: “He actually hired a private investigator to find where you went. He showed us the messages. Last we knew, the PI had found where you were… some place called the Dollhouse?”

I felt my mother’s back straighten beside me, and I nodded. “It’s where I worked, yeah.” The Dollhouse didn’t have a website, that much I knew, so if they’d searched for it, they wouldn’t have discovered exactly what it was. “But I never saw Bryan there. I had no idea he hired a PI.”

Mr. Oakes said, “It seems both Bryan and the PI have dropped off the face of the earth. Neither one is contactable or traceable. You’re sure you haven’t seen either of them?” He leaned forward, completely forgetting about the drink he balanced on his knee.

I could not shake my head enough at that. “No. I’m sorry. I have no clue what happened.” I couldn’t help myself though, and I said, “Maybe he decided to take off for a while, like me, and see what’s out there. The world is a lot bigger than Hillcrest.” It was true, as much as everyone in this room didn’t want to hear it.

“Well, let’s not talk any more about that,” my mother spoke, running her hand down my back. The motherly gesture fell flat when I realized she was only staring at my hair as if she wished she could chop it off herself. “You’re back and you’re not going anywhere, even if you refuse to get rid of this horrendous pink.”

I wished I could argue with her, but that would have to wait until later. At least until Willow was down here, and I blew everything up by sharing the video of me and Wyatt on Friday night. Mark my words: I would get it through my parents’ thick skulls that I wasn’t here to be their golden child anymore. That time had long passed.

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