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He also had to screw my sister.
Or, according to Camille, he took advantage of her.
However shitty it sounds, however awful it is for me not to believe my own sister…well, consider me in “camp doubt.” I love Camille, but this is what she does. She embellishes. She reconstructs stories to make herself the main character. The story you hear from her is rarely the truth.
Camille’s version of that night is that she was out drinking a bit too much with some friends. She bumped into Alistair and “gave him a piece of her mind” for blowing me off. At which point, he supposedly fed her drinks, coerced her into a car, and drove her to his apartment where he essentially took advantage her when she was barely conscious.
It’s a lot to unpack. But, and as much as I hated Alistair at the time, zero part of me believed he was that sort of man. Also, it wasn’t the first time Camille casually tossed out a rape allegation that had zero truth to it.
Actually, it was the fifth time she’d done it, and always for attention. To garner sympathy. Again, I know it sounds so unbelievably shitty to doubt my own sister’s claim of assault. But I do.
Unfortunately, that’s where the lies end.
I wanted so badly to believe that she invented the entire story of bumping into Alistair that summer, not just the bogus assault part, but that became impossible once I heard from Demi, who was randomly also at that same bar, that she’d seen my sister and Alistair climbing into a car together.
So, yeah, when Massimo threatens my sister, it makes me remember the awful reality that she and Alistair once went home together.
And that is why things have cooled since that one time in his office when I was reminded how strong a drug Alistair Black really is, and let my guard down. .
“Or…don’t?”
I blink, smiling awkwardly at Taylor. “Sorry, I was a million miles away, what?”
She laughs. “I said, we’re not in the office!”
Fumi tucks a strand of her jet-black hair back from her slender neck, raising her glass of Riesling. “No joke, Eloise. These nights out Taylor and I take are basically mandatory decompression with having to work alongside Captain Grumps.”
Taylor snickers, shrugging. “I mean, I love the guy like a brother?—”
“Well, that makes one of us.”
Taylor rolls her eyes at Fumi. “Fair enough. But in any case, Eloise,” she says, turning back to me. “It’s good to vent. You can say what you like about Alistair. I swear to God, I’m not HR, and I won’t repeat a thing.”
I smirk, arching a brow.
“Ooo, do the dollar bill thing,” Fumi snickers.
Taylor nods, and then looks back at me with a sigh.
“Okay, give me a dollar.”
I frown. “What?”
“Do you have a dollar bill on you?”
“I…think?” I pick up my bag and rifle inside for my wallet before pulling out a crumpled bill. I hand it to Taylor and she grins.
“Okay, I am now officially and legally acting in the capacity of your attorney. This is now a protected, confidential conversation.”
I laugh. “That’s how badly you want me to talk smack about Alistair?”
“Yup.”
I sigh, grinning as I look down into my wine. “You said before that he could be prickly when he wants to be. My immediate response was ‘well the mood sure does strike him a lot’.”
Taylor and Fumi both crack up.
“That it does,” Fumi giggles, standing and draining her wine. “Be right back. I gotta pee.”
