“Told you,” I say to my friend while rolling my eyes.
“Let’s pack quicker,” Darby suggests, and I nod in agreement. The sooner I’m out of here, the sooner I don’t have to put up with my stepmother’s antics.
Footsteps sound on the stairs outside of my room; and a few moments later, Cosette slams open the door. She looks disheveled and angry as she stands in the doorway, but what else is new?
“Did you do it?” she yells, pointing a finger at me.
“Do what?” I ask, not knowing in the slightest what she’s referring to.
“Did you pour out all of my alcohol?” she asks, and I can now see the bottle of her precious liquor perched in her arm and pressed against her chest. She’s holding it like a baby, and it’s a sickening sight. She cares more about that empty bottle of alcohol than she ever did for me. I don’t even remember a time when she held me that close or gave even one-hundredth of a shit about me like that. Not even when I was a little girl and had a boo-boo or needed a hug. Cosette was more apt to push me off on one of the maids or nannies than show me a single ounce of affection.
“No, Cosette, I didn’t. I went to bed early and got up early to start packing my stuff. Darby has been here all night.”
She looks pointedly at Darby, and my friend nods. “We’ve been in Savina’s room since, like, five o’clock last night,” she attests.
But our revelation seems to piss offCosette even more. “Well, somebody did it! There’s not a single bottle of liquor left in this house that hasn’t been poured down the drain!” she squeals, and it’s giving me a headache.
Darby stands and goes to the door. “Well, Cosette, you have, like, fifty people on your staff and ten maids here, so go ask them if they did it.” And then she slams the door in my stepmother’s face, and it takes everything in me not to scream out in delight. Darby doesn’t take shit from anyone, and I love that about her.
“You little…” I hear Cosette’s voice trail off as she goes stomping down the stairs once more.
“She’s something else,” Darby announces.
“Yeah, she’s definitelysomething,” I agree with a sigh. “Thank you for that,” I tell her sincerely.
“No probs,” she says before returning to the closet. “I’m so glad your father is letting you move out of here. He had to have seen how crazy she makes you, right?”
“You would think so,” I whisper softly. But the sad truth is that my father barely notices I’m alive let alone suffering in silence during his wife’s numerous tirades.
Darby throws the last t-shirt into a suitcase, closes the lid and sits on it so that she can zip it up. “So…who do you think did it?” she asks with a salacious grin.
I raise a brow at her.
“Who do you think threw out all of Cosette’s alcohol?” she explains. “I mean, if she didn’t drink it all herself in a drunken stupor, that is.”
I chuckle. “I don’t know, but I want to send that person a thank you card and a bouquet of flowers,” I tell her with a tiny shake of my head.
“At least it will get her out of our hair for a little while and make the move easier,” Darby offers.
“Totally,” I agree.
Nothing matters more to Cosette than her alcohol addiction. So,whoever did this really went straight for the jugular to inflict the most pain and damage to my stepmother.
I absentmindedly bring my palm up to my cheek, which still stings from when she hit me yesterday. I mean, it’s not like Cosette didn’t deserve this. Shedefinitelydeserved it. I just wish I knew who to thank for finally bringing me some retribution.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Savina
I’M JUGGLINGA cardboard box and my purse as I jiggle the keys in the front door of our new two-bedroom apartment on the upper west side of New York City. I manage to finally get it open, and it swings inward with a groan, revealing a beautiful and spacious apartment with freshly painted white walls.
Darby bounces in behind me, holding a dying houseplant in one hand and an iced coffee in the other, which seems like the most New York thing ever at the moment.
“This is home,” I whisper, half in awe, half in disbelief. I never thought this day would come.
“Home,” Darby echoes in agreement before setting her stuff down on the kitchen counter.
I walk around, marveling at the chic and updated furniture and appliances that came with the apartment. My father definitelydid a good job in picking this place for us. It’s absolutely perfect; everything I could have ever possibly dreamed about.
