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She heaves a sigh that’s an echo of my own. “It’s a hard thing to go against family,” she says.
“My mother deserves it,” I say. “If she’s really responsible.”
Aislin laughs a little bitterly. “Remember when my dad had that mistress, Lainey, and my mom kicked him out? For a while. Then she let him come back. And my mom’s obviously got a drinking problem, but I think he still loves her. And despite everything I’ve done, they still haven’t thrown me out.”
“They don’t even know where you are,” I say. “Really, Aislin, are we using your family as some kind of example?”
It’s harsh. It’s thoughtless. I know it as soon as I say it.
“Actually, they do know where I am,” Aislin says evenly. “Or at least where I was. I told them I was staying with you up in Tiburon. It’s not my fault I’m not there anymore.”
I absolutely should drop it. But I’m exhausted. I’m confused. I have all kinds of great excuses. “Gee, sorry my problems got in the way of my saving your butt.”
Right there, I stick the knife in our friendship. The one thing I never wanted to be was the bitch of a rich girl.
I hate myself. It’s immediate, I don’t have to think about it, I hate myself. I want to cut my own tongue out. But it’s too late.
There’s a long silence. Aislin gives me time to take it back. But I don’t. And I don’t know why, except that I’m so hating myself I feel like I deserve her anger.
She heads inside. I stand, gripping the railing, thinking how unfair it is that I’m having to hate myself when I really just want to hate my mother.
The door opens again and Aislin comes back out, carrying her purse. She brushes by me.
I say … I say nothing. I’m that messed up. I say nothing.
It’s some kind of overload. Too much of too much. I have the feeling I desperately need to cry. And I just don’t have it in me to deal with another crisis.
I hear her shoes moving away down the pier. Then she’s gone.
Self-pity rushes over me. Can’t she see that I need her to stick with me? Doesn’t she know what I’ve been through? I was nearly killed. I found out my mother’s a criminal. I escaped with my life from some creep who works for my mom.
Or at least, Solo escaped. And took us with him.
Am I a hundred percent sure he’s told me the truth? I don’t even know him. One kiss—even that kiss—doesn’t make us best friends forever.
No, bitch, your BFF just walked away.
Well, I’m sick of Aislin’s neediness. And I’m suddenly wondering if I’m just being manipulated by Solo. After all, he’s good with technology. Maybe all those pictures were a fake. Maybe this is all some elaborate fraud to let him hurt my mother. He hates her enough to do it.
Maybe I just need to grab a taxi and get back to Spiker and tell my mother …
No. No, I know that’s bull. I healed in days from something that should have taken months. That much, at least, is true.
And my gut tells me those pictures were real.
They return to me, unwanted, like some hideous slide show. The pig. The girl. That tattooed freak, standing in the room of freaks.
The tattooed guy. It clicks: He’s the same guy who came rushing from Solo’s room.
Maybe he’s the bad guy. Maybe he’s guilty and my mother is innocent.
As bad as that is, it would be so much better than the alternative.
At least I owe her a chance to explain. Right?
I’m freezing. I’m going to get my phone and call her. I’ve turned off the tracking so she can’t use it to find me. There’s no risk.
I have to give her the chance. She may be a cold bitch, but she is, still, my mother.
