Orlando’s face turns bright red as his son sits back and watches the show with an amused smirk playing on his lips, as though he’s never been so entertained in his life. My mother looks absolutely horrified and sick. “Jensen was not charged with any wrongdoing. That girl was out to get him. She confessed to lying out of sheer embarrassment for getting caught, and I ensured that she was charged appropriately.”
“Orlando,” Mom gapes, her gaze shifting to the sick bastard in question as a wave of confusing emotions crash through me. “Is this true? Did he attack a minor?”
“No, certainly not,” Orlando says. “This is all just exaggerated school yard gossip.”
“Right,” I laugh, wondering if maybe I’ve judged the guy too soon. Maybe he is just weird and that’s all there is to it. Maybe the rest is only schoolyard gossip, but how will we ever really know? Orlando is the best at what he does, and I wouldn’t put it past him to intimidate the girl into a confession. “You keep telling yourself that while blatantly ignoring the fact that he constantly leers at me like I’m a fucking meal. Real nice, Orlando. You must be so proud.” I fix my bag over my back and check the time, making sure I have enough time to grab something to eat on the way to school. I go to leave when I turn back to find my mother staring at Orlando as though he’s some kind of stranger. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Mom, but we’ve only been here for a few days and you’re already a stranger to me. I miss my real mother, and I hope to God that she comes back to me.”
And with that, I grab my keys off the edge of the counter and make my way out to the car, listening to the utter silence behind me. Guilt fires through me and the need to text Mom with an apology itches at my fingers, but I hold off. I don’t know why I’m particularly crabby today. Perhaps it was the embarrassment of knowing Tanner saw me last night, or maybe it was Mom’s refusal to have my back and allowing her boyfriend to speak to me like that. Hell, maybe it’s just the fact that she’s so desperate for this bullshit lifestyle that she refuses to see what’s clearly in front of her, refuses to listen, and refuses to put me first.
Or … I just had one too many mimosas yesterday.
In the space of three days, I feel like my mother has flipped a switch and is a complete stranger. She’s so desperate to impress this asshole, that she doesn’t remember what’s important in life. I mean, who just moves out of their home on a whim, uproots her daughter’s life, and becomes a cheerleader for a guy just because he can offer her a life full of luxury?
Dropping into my car, I pull my door shut and just sit, needing a moment. Only when I see my mother racing out the front door with a takeout container filled with breakfast, I wish I had just driven off.
She opens the door and thrusts the pancakes at me, and I reluctantly take the container. “Please just eat something, honey,” she says, looking at me with sad eyes.
“Are you serious?” I laugh. “That’s all you have to say?”
Mom presses her lips into a tight line. “I’m sorry, but Orlando has promised me that Jensen is perfectly safe. It was just a silly teenage girl who was embarrassed that she’d been caught with him, so she accused him of an ugly, heinous crime rather than own up to the fact that she had consented. She didn’t want her parents to know that she was sexually active.”
I stare at my mother, not knowing this stranger before me. “Are you kidding me?” I question. “Tell me that you’re not blaming the victim here. Let me guess, her skirt was too short, so she was asking for it? She bent over in front of Jensen and he accepted that as her consent? What if that were me? What if he forced himself onto me and raped me? What would you say then? Would you tell me it was my fault, or would you just insist that I was lying?”
“Brielle, what on earth has gotten into you?”
I shake my head and thrust the pancakes back at her before slamming the door between us. What the hell has gotten into me? More like, what the hell has gotten into her? She gets dicked down every night now, so apparently, she doesn’t need to have respect for herself, her morals, or her family. Give me a fucking break.
Slamming my Honda in reverse, I floor it, peeling out of the driveway before I get the chance to really let my mother know what I think of her right now.