My hand flies over her cheek so fast, I swear the thought to hit her never crossed my mind. It’s like I was possessed or level headed, either or.
“Crap,” I whimper, because, for one, assaulting the guest of honor is never a good thing and double crap because she just so happens to be my boyfriend’s mother.
“Oh, Laney.” Roxy wraps her arms around me tight as if I were already being hauled off to prison. God knows a bitch slap isn’t your typical felony offence but something tells me Rue’s legal team is more than capable of parlaying a death sentence out of it.
“Call the police,” Rue whispers to the woman patting her cheek down with a napkin dipped in champagne. And as if it weren’t bad enough to have bitch slapped my prospective future mother-in-law, half the guests are shaking their grey heads in my direction.
“Ryder.” I turn to him, and he takes me in his arms.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “You don’t need to call the police.” He informs the woman wearing head to toe rubies. I’m pretty sure those non-eco friendly gems she’s sporting have cost at least a dozen people their lives. And there’s no way in hell those diamonds bejeweling her neck are conflict free because if she’s a friend of Rue’s, she loves conflict. Each new day for the rich and infamous brings a fresh scoop of misery with a little conflict on the side. And here we are, with heaping piles of both. “We’re out of here.”
“No,” Rue barks. She settles her narrowed gaze over me, and I can feel the hatred spewing from her like a tidal wave, but it’s always been there. Today in the office with all that manufactured kindness, those unnatural grimaces she tried to pass off as smiles, those felt horrifically fake—but this,thisfeels downright genuine. “I demand an apology, to the both of us.” She shoulders up to Meg, who she might actually care for more than her own daughter, but I wouldn’t dare say it to Roxy.
“Don’t apologize.” Roxy stands beside me, defiant.
“Roseanna, keep your thoughts to yourself.” Rue scowls at her openly. “This doesn’t concern you.” The fine lines around her eyes and mouth multiply, making her look a thousand years old and scary as hell.
Wow. It looks like someone’s Botox just said fuck you.
“She’s right,” Ryder grunts. “This doesn’t concern you, Roxy. It concernsme.”
My adrenaline ticks up a notch, and suddenly I want nothing but for this to end.
I glance at Meg with her lipstick smeared—a sorrowful look on her face because she’ll never have Ryder.
“I’m sorry I pushed you.” There. “I mean it.”
Meg makes a face and only ends up looking that much more demented.
I turn to Rue, Satan’s own spawn. Okay, so that’s probably a little harsh, but I defer to that whole adrenaline thing. I might have something nicer to call her in the morning, but somehow I doubt it.
“Butyou”—I start—“were very disrespectful to my mother. I am not apologizing.” Accurate as hell, but nonetheless.
“I only call it like I see it.” Rue sweeps over me as if she were dismissing the help.
“Well then, I’m going to call it likeIsee it.”
Ryder sags a little because he knows this isn’t going to end well.
“Go ahead,” he whispers. “I want you to.”
A new sense of resolve fills me. With Ryder on my side, I’ve already won. I’ll have to reward the Big N.P. later with a treat of vaginal proportions, but I was already planning to do that anyway. Maybe we could involve chocolate somehow? But his bedroom is so damn nice it’d be a pity. Hey, we should totally go to one of those twenty-four hour convenience stores and invest in a tarp. Nothing says bring on the chocolate syrup like a ten-by-fourteen piece of waterproof poly.
“Well?” Rue barks, and I snap out of my chocolate-inspired stupor.
Here it goes. “Ididhit you, but you were very inconsiderate.” Honest to God, I swear that qualifies as an apology somewhere in this twisted world. “I can only take so much before I snap, and apparently tonight that line was my mother. She may not be perfect but she’s not here to defend herself either, and I’m a big believer in saying things to people’s faces. So the next time you decide to call me a whore, make sure I’m in the room to hear it. Or maybe you prefer your lackey to do your dirty work for you, which brings me to my next point—Meg. If you had a boyfriend, I could guarantee you I wouldn’t throw myself at him at a Christmas party even if I were shitfaced off century old eggnog and desperate to get laid. You have no right to lock lips with anyone without their permission, and I doubt very much Ryder was a willing participant. Hands off,bitch. He’s mine.” That ought to get the point across. And, if it doesn’t, I happen to be wearing my roach killing FMs courtesy of the Whitney Briggs drama department, and they look like they could slide nicely right up her ass.
“Is this what you want?” Rue tosses her hand in my direction while challenging Ryder with a guilt-riddled stare. “Someone who curses in the presence of the elderly—people of noble character?” She pans the grey-haired mafia, all of which happen to be scowling at me. “Someone who accosts your mother over words? Thetruthno less?” She shakes her head with a frown dripping down her lips. “This isn’t the kind of wife your father and I envision for you. When you come to your senses, I’m sure someone with grace and good character will be waiting for you.” She wraps her arm around Meg. “Sow your oats quickly, Ryder. This is disheartening for everyone involved.”
A loud clatter comes from the entry as an entire swarm of Hollow Brook’s finest pour into the overgrown house.
“Wait,” Ryder roars it out and garners the attention of the entire room. “I’m not marrying Meg—not now or ever. And Laney is right.” He jabs a finger in Meg’s direction. “You can’t dry hump me in public or in private”—he points over to his mother—“and you can’t talk to the woman I love that way. I don’t care how many five-star meals I miss, you won’t see me coming around here anymore.”
Five-star meals? He really is sacrificing big time.
Rue flicks her wrist. “She’s left you once, she’ll do it again.”
“You should watch your back, Ryder.” Meg pipes up and stuns just about everyone. Who knew she had hormonesanda voice? And to think she’s wielding them both like a weapon on the very same night. “Since we’re on the topic of her mother, didn’t she poison one of her many husbands for his money?”
