The Queen B* Strikes Back (22 page)

As I glanced up in my rearview mirror, I saw the silhouette of a guy bent over, his hands on his knees as though he was trying to catch his breath. Maybe it was Brett. Maybe it was Richard. I wasn’t going to turn around to find out.

I don’t remember driving home. Somehow, I’d known when to stop and when to go and managed to avoid hitting any of those damn cyclists who veered out of the bike lane at all hours of the day and night along the lake road. I waited until I was safely inside my garage before allowing the first tear to fall.

That was a mistake because once I did, the flood followed.

I blindly crawled out of my car and made my way into the kitchen.

“Alexis?” Mom asked the moment I stepped inside.

Shit! She was there with her boyfriend, drinking wine just like she’d said. At least this time, they were fully clothed. The shock dried up my tears for a moment, but I didn’t have time to wipe them away.

Mom approached me with worry etching faint lines into her usually flawless face. “What’s wrong?”

The scream I’d been holding back broke free. “I hate that asshole!”

Mom gave Pete a “Maybe you should leave and let me handle this” look and put her arm around me.

He nodded without a word and paused to place a kiss on her cheek before letting himself out.

I was falling apart. I mean, full-blown ugly crying now. Wails and sobs and hiccupped breaths and nose-dripping-with-snot kind of crying. But instead of adopting her usual confused and helpless expression that she wore when I was upset, Mom expertly guided me to the couch and handed me a box of tissues.

“Oh, sweetie, tell me what happened.”

My phone beeped before I had a chance to speak. I glanced at the screen, expecting a message from Richard.

Instead, I saw Brett’s name on the screen.

“Screw you!” I hissed and immediately blocked his number. I refused to suffer any more of his lies.

My mom pried the phone from my hands before I could text the sentiment back to him. “Tell me what happened,” she repeated, this time in a firmer tone that indicated she wouldn’t back down until she knew the truth.

“I caught him. That’s what happened. All this time, he swore up and down that he wasn’t seeing Summer, that they were just friends, that there was nothing going on between them, that he wanted to go out with me. But I caught them talking trash about me before making out in Summer’s gazebo. He lied to me. All this time, my gut told me I could trust him, but I was wrong. The two-timing, motherfucking asshole!”

I started crying even louder.

My mom said nothing. She didn’t have to. I knew she’d been through something similar with my dad. Instead, she wrapped her arms around me and held me close while I cried all over her expensive silk blouse. With every stroke of her hand along my hair, she soothed my broken heart and comforted my wounded pride. And when I’d finally cried my anguish out, she hugged me even tighter.

“Why are men such jerks?” I asked.

“Because they think with their dicks first and their heads later.” She lifted my chin. “How far did things get between you two?”

“I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Smart girl.”

“Funny, ’cause I don’t feel very smart right now. I’d totally fallen for him.”

Mom released me and tucked her legs under her on the couch. “I know you want to think you have all the answers, especially since you’ve always had a good head on your shoulders, but I’m here to tell you that no matter how old you are, you’ll never have
all
the answers. Look at the mistakes I’ve made.”

I didn’t know if she was referring to my dad or last week’s incident with Pete, but I wasn’t about to ask. “So I’m destined to keep getting screwed over by guys?”

Mom gave me a weak smile and shook her head. “Not always. But you mentioned something that you might want to keep in mind for the future. Your gut told you to trust him, but in this case, it was wrong. Next time, listen to your gut, but don’t lose your head.”

“For sure.”

Mom gave me one more squeezing hug. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, but finding out your Prince Charming is really a toad is one of those hard lessons that most of us have to learn. It’s unfortunately part of growing up. But I promise you one day you’ll find the perfect guy, and he won’t break your heart. He’ll treasure it and the wonderful, strong, intelligent woman you are.”

I know she wanted to comfort me with her words, but I found them very hard to believe. I’d built a reputation for keeping people at arm’s length, and the one time I let someone get close to me, this happened. Lesson learned.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” Mom asked. “It might calm you down a bit and help you sleep.”

“Mom, I’m seventeen. I already have enough issues to deal with without becoming an alcoholic in the process.”

Mom coughed and looked away. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just, you know, a glass helps me unwind after a really bad day.”

“No, I think I just want to go to bed. If you want to pick up Taylor, she’s at a party at Summer’s house. Richard may need a ride, too. There’s alcohol there, so I wouldn’t trust any of her friends to give her a ride, if you know what I mean.”

Mom picking up my sister would kill her rep more than me coming to an in-crowd party. At this rate, Taylor’s chances of landing a hot date for Homecoming were almost zilch.

I grabbed my phone and headed up to my room. A quick look at my messages showed the one from Brett that said,
Please call me
, and another half-dozen from Richard. I deleted the one from Brett and read through Richard’s.

Alexis, did something happen?

People are talking about how you left the party. What happened?

Alexis, where are you?

Seriously, I’m getting worried. Call me. Let me know you’re alive.

Oh my god, this party is buzzing about you and Brett. Call me
.

I didn’t give a damn what my classmates thought. They were probably laughing their asses off at how gullible I’d been, how I’d made a fool of myself over Brett when all this time, he was with Summer.

I typed back,
Home. My mom’s on her way over to pick up Taylor. She’ll give you a ride home too.

I didn’t want to elaborate. I just wanted to close my eyes and wake up in the morning to all this being some kind of a nightmare.

Once again, Summer had publicly humiliated me.

But this time, I wasn’t the same girl. I had my blog, and I wasn’t afraid to use it.

Chapter Nineteen

My eyelids felt like sandpaper when I woke up the next morning. I’d sworn I wouldn’t shed any more tears over Brett, but sometime during the middle of the night, I’d woken up and cried again.

Thankfully, I had the weekend to pull myself together before facing the rest of the school. Two days to come up with ways to get back at them. Forty-eight hours to prove to them that they hadn’t knocked me down.

But right now, it still friggin’ hurt. So much so that I didn’t even want to talk to Morgan and Richard about it. I just wanted to wallow in self-pity for a day and call Brett all kinds of vile names.

I showered and went downstairs to scrounge for something to eat. The house was empty, as usual, but at least I wouldn’t have to deal with Taylor’s smug expression. She’d told me that Brett was Summer’s, but I’d just thought she was playing minion to her master. Maybe she’d been trying to warn me after all.

By the time I’d eaten a yogurt and fixed a cup of coffee, the ideas started flowing. I would call them out. But I’d have to do it very carefully. I needed as much dirt on them as possible to crush them when I posted it all to
The Eastline Spy
. Maybe even wait a few weeks so they could be lulled into a false sense of security before I sprung it on them.

My mind was ripe with vengeful thoughts, and I dashed upstairs to write them all down before I forgot any of them. I opened my notebook, only to find Gavin’s phone number scrawled across an entire page. I ripped out the sheet and tossed it aside while I filled page after page with my plot. It wasn’t until I’d exhausted my imagination that I glanced back at Gavin’s number and remembered Brett’s reaction to the douche bag.

He’d wanted to punch him for hitting on me last weekend.

And even though Gavin was a jerk, he’d work for my purposes.

I dialed his number.

Gavin answered with a confused “Hello?”

“Gavin, this is Alexis Wyndham.”

“Dr. Grant’s daughter,” he said in his surprised stoner voice. “What’s up, babe?”

I cringed and forced myself to remain indifferent. This was all about moving on from Brett…and maybe a bit of retaliation. “You’d mentioned wanting to hang sometime.”

“With you? Totally.”

An unconscious flood of relief loosened the muscles in my shoulders.

“There’s a party at my frat house tonight,” he continued. “Wanna come?”

Ugh! I’d never wanted to be caught dead in a frat house, but in this instance, I’d bite the bullet and suck it up. At least it meant I wouldn’t have to hang out with him the entire time. “Sure.”

“Excellent!” He gave me the name of his frat and the address of the house. “Party will be rockin’ around nine. See ya then.”

I wanted to shiver from all the scumminess Gavin embodied, but I shook it off and convinced myself it would be worth it. All I needed to do was take a selfie of the two of us together and send it to Brett. It would be the perfect start to my “I’m so over you” party.

But first, I needed to look the part of a sexy college girl. And I knew just where to get the clothes for it.

Taylor was on the phone when I knocked on her door. She looked up at me and halted her conversation midsentence. “What do you want?”

“I have a date to a frat party tonight, and I was wondering if you could give me some tips on what to wear.” I might even strike it lucky and have her offer one of her things. That is, if she could find something clean among the piles of clothes strewn across her room.

Taylor blinked several times as though I’d announced I was leaving for Russia to promote world peace. “I’ll call you back,” she said to the person on the other end before hanging up.

Her wide-eyed stare continued as she approached me. “You’re going on a date?”

“Yes.”

“To a frat party?”

“Yes.”

“With who?”

“With a guy I met at the Purple Dog.” I rummaged through a pile of clothes. “Do you have any recommendations on what to wear?”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?”

I paused and stared back at her. “What’s wrong with me going out on a date with a college guy? It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

“But it’s the first time you’ve asked me for pointers.”

“You’re the one who said I had horrendous fashion sense.”

Taylor started to speak several times but ended up running back to her phone to text someone.

I rolled my eyes and continued to search through her clothes. Because I actually had a bust (and my sister didn’t), most of her dresses appeared way too small up top. Even the stretchy ones would look like they could double as a sports bra on me.

Taylor threw her phone down and joined me. “What’s the story with you and this guy?”

“I met him at the café. He asked me out. End of story.”

“How come I’ve never heard of him?” she asked, suspicion lacing her voice.

“Because you’re so wrapped up in your own life, you don’t give a damn about mine.”

“How do I know this doesn’t have something to do with Brett?”

“What makes you think there was ever anything between me and Brett?” I countered, trying my best to sound disinterested when I was still secretly seething over his betrayal.

“Because I saw you two kissing last week.”

There. The identity of who’d turned on all the lights last week had finally come out. “So? Brett kisses a lot of girls.”

Taylor scrunched up her face in confusion. Maybe she expected me to scream or shout or break down crying after last night, but I’d moved past all that. I was well into the rational hatred phase.

I picked up a top that looked like it would barely cover my bra. “What about this?”

She shook off her shock and yanked the shirt from my hands. “No way.”

“Fine.” I moved to her closet.

“So I guess you’re not upset about last night?” she asked from behind me.

It took every ounce of restraint to keep the emotion from my voice. “Nope.”

“Good. Because I tried to warn you. And Summer came up with a plan to make sure you knew it.”

I froze, my breath trapped in my lungs until it burned and I was forced to release it. If Summer had proven herself to be a Brutus, then my sister was Judas. Could I trust anyone close to me? “So is that why you made sure I went to the party?”

“No, I just wanted to go to the party. But Summer told me she knows you saw them together, just like she wanted.”