“Are you going to invite us inside or do you want me to have my lawyer dial in through your Ring app?”
The mention of litigation seemed to get to her mother. She quickly stepped aside and Jay, walking into the foyer, found herself in a space that looked like the back room of a Victoria’s Secret, with everything done in shades of varying pink or white. There was a sugar cookie smell that made her feel vaguely sick, reminiscent of the strip club and too many mall trips that she hadn’t enjoyed. Fake vanilla and humiliation.
Jay’s mother drifted to her fridge and opened the door. The shelves were mostly empty but then, her mother had never cooked. She pulled out a frosted bottle of peach-colored wine from the top shelf. “I suppose you’ll want a drink.”
Nicholas eyed her. “Do I look like one of your girlfriends?”
Jay saw her mother’s mouth open, ready to deliver a cutting remark. Then she appeared to think better of it. “Your father never said no.”
Nicholas just looked at her. She swallowed, and then covered her unease with a shrug.
“Justine, wine?” It sounded like a command.
“Fine.” She didn’t want it, either, but it would give her something to do with her hands, which were shaking quite badly. Nicholas raised a disapproving eyebrow at her as she accepted the glass with shaky hands and took a few desperate sips of the sickeningly sweet rosé.
“I suppose you let him bully you into coming here.” Her mother watched her hands, not looking away when Jay accidentally splashed some of the wine on herself. “He said he would.”
Nicholas gave her hip a squeeze, which did not go unnoticed by her mother.
“I didn’t realize your brother had turned you into such a pushover.”
The barb had been intended to sting but it didn’t hurt as much as it would have before, when her self-worth had hinged on how well she had pleased the people around her.
She realized, with a kind of numb fascination that was heightened by the wine, that she no longer really cared what her mother thought of her at all.
“This is a nice place.” Nicholas gave her a little tap with his fingers before letting his hand drop from her back. Her mother grew tense as he circled the kitchen, like a panther pacing a cage. “Is it a rental? I imagine it must be, given the dire state of your financial woes.”
“You put me in this position,” her mother seethed.
“Did I?” Nicholas opened one of her cabinets, peering inside, before turning over his shoulder to give her a cold look. “I don’t remember telling you to get on your back.”
Jay’s mother looked at her. “Are you going to let him speak to me that way?”
Such a pushover.The wineglass trembled in her grip. “If you don’t like it, tell him yourself.” She set her glass clumsily onto the ugly Formica counter. “You’ve already sold me out once. And for what? An apartment on the train tracks? Screw you.”
Nicholas snorted, and headed back down her narrow hallway.
“You are living inmyhouse, Justine. I suggest you remember that before accusingmeof selling out.” Her mother turned on her roundly, deciding she was the easier target, even as she kept one wary eye on Nicholas. “Last I checked, you got there the same way I did.”
“Last I checked,” Jay said, “it’s not your name on the deed.”
“Why’s this door locked if you’re here alone?” Nicholas asked casually, rattling the doorknob on one of the three doors in the foyer. “Where’s it go?”
“My bedroom,” her mother snapped, looking away from Jay. “Stay out of there.”
“Nicholas, stop,” Jay said, when he tried the handle again.
“He always did take your marching orders.” Her mother’s tone was sour as Nicholas leaned back against the wall, his arms folded. She turned a look on Jay that would have made her wilt when she was fourteen. “I suppose I know why.”
“You do know why. You drove me into his arms.” Jay squared her shoulders. “It must have been very disappointing when he didn’t squeeze.”
“Doesn’t he?” her mother said.
Jay closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “What’s your price? I’ve been told everyone has theirs. What do you want to make this stop?”
“Seven million dollars.”
Nicholas laughed from his post by the door.
