Page 10 of Masked in Deception
Jack:
Noted :)
Me:
Really, thank you for the gifts. I love them.
Jack:
Miss you, Margot. I hope you have a great day for real.
Miss you too, Jackie…I would if you were here…
Me:
Miss you too, Jackie <3
Chapter thirteen
27 years old
It’s a lovely day to bury a man I really didn’t know at all. Growing up, people often assumed I was an orphan. When the Sinclair kids and I were all young enough, my hair was lighter, so I could reasonably pass for Margot’s sibling. There were days when we’d all go somewhere, and people would comment, “What four beautiful children you have!” or “Two who take after Mom and two who take after Dad, how perfect.” Blanche would beam, and I felt so included, but as we all grew up, it became clearer that I didn’t share the Sinclair features.
I think life might have been better as an orphan, for all the good that my father did in my childhood. He existed as a specter, always hovering. An ever-present threat that I could be ripped away from the only home I ever really knew and people I considered to be my true family. The way he operated was cruel for reasons I’ll never understand. I’d get radio silence on my birthday or Christmas, then a letter would pop up on a random Tuesday reminding me that if I didn’t behave, get all A’s, excelat my chosen musical instrument, letter in football…if any of my spinning plates dropped, John F. Carter II would swoop down and pluck me from my life for a worse one, somewhere far away.
The bottom of the bottle of bourbon I started drinking the night before his funeral didn’t hold any answers as to why he was like this, and the second bottle that I began this morning isn’t looking promising either. Even without answers, I was at least hoping for the numbness that liquor usually promises, but that’s elusive as well. It’s like I can’t let myself fully slip, and I’m pretty sure I know why.
I haven’t seen her yet.
My princess. Fucking Margot. Blanche. Sinclair.
Ledger and I have been back to our old ways since the fever dream that was her prom night, and I haven’t really seen her since she’s been off at Harvard.God, I’m so proud of her.She’s the best of all of us. Certainly better than me, with the thoughts I’ve had since the night she touched my thigh and made my dick harder than it’s ever been without even realizing.
I was almost certain that she was trying to come on to me that night, but by the time my brain caught up to the situation, she had already gone inside the house. She had just been sexually assaulted by her prom date, for Christ’s sake. But the following morning, she was my normal Margot, and the kernel of an idea retreated into the back of my mind. Whatever happened or didn’t happen, it was just enough to keep her in my thoughts. Every blonde I fucked started looking like Margot, to the point that I’ve been solely pursuing brunettes and redheads for over a year at this point.
I drain the rest of my second bottle of bourbon and pop a third when I’m clapped on the shoulder. Ledger eyes me with concern and replaces my bottle with water. I scowl, but chug it as he eyes me.
“I love you, man, but the people your dad apparently associated with are all pieces of work,” he says, glancing over at a group of old, lecherous men who are eyeing up one of the waitstaff passing around hors d'oeuvres.
“Yeah, well. Maybe it’s a good thing he dropped me off on your doorstep and never came around,” I grumble. Ledger gives me a long, searching look before he sees someone over my shoulder. “There she is! Margot, finally!”
As he’s stepping around me to give Margot a hug and kiss on the cheek, I turn to see her for the first time today. She brushes right past her brother dismissively and makes a beeline for me, squeezing me into a bear hug so tight I’m a little wobbly on my unsteady feet. She notices, becauseof courseshe would, and pulls back to hold my biceps and look up at me. After a beat, she makes her verdict known.
“Jesus Christ, Jack. Ledger, what were you even doing if not keeping an eye on him?” She’s giving her brotherthe look,and if it was cute on her as a kid, it’s devastating on her now.
“Hi, Princess,” I say quietly, but she barely hears me while she berates Ledger for failing to keep me functional today and leads me to a back conference room at the funeral home, shutting us in while she sends her brother on an errand to get some “food to sober everyone up” but I know everyone is just me. I’m the fuckup today.What else is new lately?
I feel her hands on my knees and realize she’s knelt in front of me, trying to meet my gaze, which is currently trained on the floor as I lean over heavily with my forearms on my thighs and my head bowed.
“Hi Jackie, I’m sorry I was late getting here. A baby was born on my flight, if you can believe it, and it put everyone behind schedule once we landed,” she whispers.
I raise my head, meeting her eyes, and imagine her kneeling in front of me in averydifferent setting, then her telling meshe’s pregnant, then her funeral because I’m a fuckup. I realize something concerning made its way onto my face for her to see, because she’s furrowing her brow at me. Nope. Don’t like that. Get the facade back up, Jack. Jesus.
I smirk and sit up straight. “It’s okay, you really didn’t have to come for this fucker’s big day, you know. He was an ass, and now he’s gone. Easy peasy.”
The worry line in her forehead gets deeper as she stands up and leans on the back of the chair next to me. “I didn’t come here for him. I came for you.”
The bourbon must choose this moment to finally kick in, which,hallelujah.But also,fuck.
