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Charles looks at his wife as if she were a fly crawling over a pile of shit. “We always do.”
I hitch my thumb over my shoulder toward the front door. "Well, uh, I should get going. Kingston should be here any minute to pick me up."
Madeline’s features pinch together before the Stepford mask falls back in place. “You’re still seeing the Davenport boy?”
“I’m not sure seeing him is the right word, but we’re hanging out.” Sort of.
She smooths imaginary wrinkles out of her white sheath dress. “I see.”
I think she was about to say something else, but Charles puts his hand up to stop her. “Enough, Madeline. Let the girl get to school. Now that she’s feeling better, we can put this whole thing behind us and move on.”
Uh...no, we can’t, asshole.
“I don’t think that’s possible until the people responsible are brought to justice. Anyone willing to commit such a heinous crime deserves to have the book thrown at them.”
Shit. Probably shouldn’t have said that.
Charles’ icy blue eyes narrow in suspicion. “Yes, well, of course. After the perpetrators are brought to justice, we can put this whole thing behind us.”
We stare each other down, reading one another’s body language. His is saying that he’s the king of this jungle and nobody dares to defy him. Mine’s saying, try me, old man.
My father’s face reddens as he straightens his tie. “Have a nice day at school, Jasmine. I have business to attend to.”
With that, he spins on his heels and walks toward the corridor leading to his office. Madeline is still standing right in front of me, obviously waiting for her husband to get out of earshot.
I prop a hand on my hip. “Something you’d like to say?”
For the first time since we’ve met, the real Madeline comes out to play. Her periwinkle eyes are burning with rage as she steps forward until her giant boobs are practically bumping against my chest. I'm five-foot-four on a good day, and Madeline's easily five-ten when she's wearing heels, so she towers over me.
“Listen up, little girl. Kingston Davenport belongs to Peyton. You. Can't. Have. Him. It's best to break off this fling, or whatever it is before it goes any further. They will marry after graduation, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Trust me when I say you’ll be sorry if you try.”
“Did all that poison you had injected into your face go to your brain?” I scoff. “You and your daughter are deranged. Whether or not Kingston and I are together, he’ll never marry Peyton.”
Fuck. Definitely shouldn’t have said that.
Madeline’s orange face turns cherry red. “You little—”
“Madeline!”
Both our heads swing in the direction of the booming voice. Sperm Donor’s face is rosier than his wife’s, only his anger is clearly directed at her, not me. Well, that’s a nice change.
Once she gets over the shock, Madeline’s mask is firmly back in place. “Darling, it’s not what it looks like.”
Charles’ jaw tics as his meaty fists clench at his sides. “I need to speak with you in my office.”
“But,” she sputters.
“Now! Do as you’re told, or face the consequences!”
Madeline glances at me before averting her gaze to the marble floor, scurrying past my father like her ass is on fire. Damn, can’t say I blame her. The dude’s pretty scary right now.
“You!” He points a finger at me. “Go to school!”
“Consider me gone.” I give a flippant wave before rushing out the door.
I lean against one of the pillars for a moment to catch my breath. Holy shit, what was that? Kingston's still not here, but I have no desire to wait around and risk running into either Charles or Madeline. I text Kingston as I start walking down the long driveway.
Me: ETA? I need to get the hell out of Dodge.
