Bad Influencer by Kenzie Reed
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jillian
A week after my family blew me off for their family dinner, it still stings, a low familiar ache of rejection. And now I’ve gotten several messages from my mother basically ordering me to show up for an official family portrait one week from now, on July 3. Apparently, I am welcome sometimes, but only at their discretion.
There are few balms in life that a sunset dinner at the Stardust Café at the historic Pier 70 can’t soothe, though. Wisteria, Elliott, Trevor and I stand on the restaurant’s deck, sipping cocktails as the crimson orb of the sun melts into the horizon across the bay, painting the tips of the trees a fiery red.
“I sense a dark energy,” Wisteria announces, looking up from her Mojito.
“Me too.” Trevor holds out his arm and starts making clicking noises. “I’m a dark energy Geiger counter. Click, click, click…” He swivels around and points directly at Wisteria. She stares at him with a benevolent smile, unblinking.
“Get a room,” I croon, which earns me an outraged glare from Trevor and a snicker from Wisteria.
Trevor snorts. “She’d burn so many sage bundles it would set off a smoke alarm.”
“He’d never even make it into the room, he’d be too busy doing risk assessment and then patrolling the perimeter,” she scoffs.
His lip curls up in a smirk. “Ooh, look who knows real words like risk assessment.”
I stare at them. Maybe they should get a room, for real? Nahhh… I’m just giving them grief. I think.
“The darkness. It’s getting closer.” Wisteria frowns.
“Jillian!” My mother’s voice rings out from across the deck.
“Oh, hell,” I mutter. I glance at Wisteria. “How do you do that?”
Wisteria smiles benevolently. “Someday my genius will be appreciated.” She gives Trevor a challenging look.
He lets out a grunt of annoyance. “Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then.”
My parents are standing by the hostess station with Theo and Pansy. Damn it. Sometimes Seattle can be like a small town—you’re always running into people when you least expect it… or want it. They make their way through the crowd, and when they reach us, my mother leans in for a quick hug. Then she stands back, with the familiar look of gentle disappointment beaming from her eyes. My insides shrivel.
“Hello, dear.”
Pansy lights up in a big, genuine smile. “Hello, Jillian. I love your dress. Don’t you love her dress, Athena?” she says to my mother.
“Hmm.” My mother flicks a quick glance at my midi-dress. I know, I know. Too boho with its prairie print and lace trim. “It’s very… you,” she allows. “You’re not wearing that to the photoshoot, of course.”
“Photoshoot?” I say innocently.
She heaves an impatient sigh. “I’ve left several messages asking you to confirm that you’ll be there, and never received a reply.”
“Funny thing,” Elliott says sharply. ”She never received your invitation to your family dinner party. Seems like that communication breakdown goes both ways.”
My mother’s smooth forehead wrinkles as much as her Botox will allow, but the spark of annoyance in her eyes says it all. “And you are?”
“Her parole officer.”
Trevor chokes on a laugh and claps his hand over his mouth.
“Oh my God. I knew it.” My mother’s face goes pale, and she shoots a panicked look at my father, who flushes with anger.
“Jillian? Why didn’t you consult us on this?” he demands. “Do you know how many criminal defense attorneys I have in my Rolodex?”
“Kidding.” Elliott flashes a smile that’s half smirk. “I’m Elliott Bradford of Bradford Family Amusement Parks and Resorts.” He doesn’t bother to extend his hand for a shake.
“Well, that wasn’t a very funny joke,” my mother huffs.
“They have a similar sense of humor, though,” Pansy muses. ”You know, despite the fact that he’s a suit and tie guy, I can see that the two of them just work together. He’s exactly the kind of guy I’d fix her up with. Because, you know, I’m normally pretty good at that.” She narrows her eyes at Theo, who winces.
“Sorry, hon,” he mutters.
She relents and squeezes his arm. “I know your intentions were good.”
Wisteria stares steadily at them, with her spooky, unblinking gaze.
“What?” my mother says nervously. “What are you looking at?”
Wisteria turns to me and shakes her head slowly. “Their auras are muddy.”
“Our what?” My mother looks down at her shoes. ”These aren’t auras. I’ve never heard of that brand. Sounds like some sort of hippy thing. These are Jimmy Choo. And there’s no mud on them.” She heaves a martyred sigh. “Anyway, the photo shoot is three p.m. next Sunday. Please don’t be late. And please don’t try to pretend you’re working on a Sunday. I’ve got enough to think about with preparing for our trip next month, and heaven knows your father isn’t helping any. He can’t spare me ten minutes to help me plan our itinerary.” She rolls her eyes.
My father clears his throat and scowls, shifting his body so it’s angled away from her. That’s odd. They’re usually both on the same page. I’d never realized how closely aligned they were with each other until now, seeing him turn away like that. He takes a couple of steps back, pulls out his cell phone, and pretends to check something.
And I swear that there’s something off with Pansy and Theo too. Her smile is a little strained, and his brows are pinched together in a worried half-frown, and he keeps glancing at her as if looking for reassurance. But she’s off in her own world. What is happening with our family? Is it something in the bottled water?
My mother looks at me critically. “What will you be wearing? I can buy you something.”
“I have a job!” My voice rises to a yell. “I can buy my own dresses!”
Elliott speaks up. “Actually, she’s not going.”
“Excuse me?” My mother arches one perfectly penciled eyebrow.
I take in a deep breath. ”He’s right. I got your messages, and I didn’t reply because I’m not going. I know you always worry that I’ll embarrass you by acting like—well, myself. So, I won’t go, and you won’t need to worry about me tanking his judgeship. Problem solved.”
My mother waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, we don’t have to worry about that anymore. We’ve got unofficial word that the confirmation is in the bag. Another judge just had to retire unexpectedly with some health issues, which means they’ve got another vacancy to fill, so they’re rushing your father’s appointment through.”
“Well, thank heavens we don’t have to worry about me ruining everything by making one wrong move,” I say tartly.
“I know!” My mother beams. “So much less stress for you!”
Pansy flashes her an alarmed look. “Athena.”
“Seriously?” Elliott barks.
“It’s all right, I brought some emergency sage.” Wisteria reaches into her purse, pulls out a paper bag, and removes a sage branch. Then she pulls out a pack of matches and lights it. “It’s for clearing out negative energy,” she says to my mother. “It also promotes healing and wisdom.”
Trevor shoots her a sidelong look, shaking his head.
“What?” My mother looks around in bewilderment.
“Mother didn’t mean it to sound like that,” Theo says, trying for a smile.
“Sound like what?” My mother looks baffled. Genuinely stymied. She isn’t trying to hurt me—she never is, which just makes it even worse somehow.
“Really? How did she mean it?” Elliott takes half a step forward, moving slightly in between me and my mother.
My father shoves his phone back in his pocket, steps forward, and glowers at him. ”I’m not sure I like your tone, young man.”
Trevor stiffens, watching him carefully, as if he thinks my 65-year-old father is going to haul off and sock Elliott.
“Oh, really? Well, I’m very sure I don’t like the way you left Jillian out of an important family event, lied to her when you told her you’d send her an invitation, and left her to read about it in the newspaper. She’s not a dog that you can stick out in a kennel in your backyard, then trot out for guests when you need a prop.”
Something dark inside me lightens. He’s saying things I knew but didn’t know how to give voice to.
“How dare you accuse my wife of lying?” my father demands.
“I didn’t lie!” my mother protests. “I just... well, I thought about it after I said that I’d invite you, and...”
“Wait.” My father frowns at her. “You told her you’d invite her? Why would you say that? We discussed it. We agreed that it wouldn’t be her kind of thing.”
“Exactly. That’s why I wasn’t going to mention it to her in the first place. And then I got kind of caught off guard when her friend overheard me talking about it.” My mother sighs dramatically. “You hate formal dinners. You hate the people we invite.” Her voice, usually so self-assured, turns wheedling. “I was doing you a favor by not inviting you. I mean, after the fit you pitched about being invited to our barbecue, I don’t even understand why you wanted to come.”
“I complained about the barbecue because you invited me under false pretenses. It wasn’t a family thing, it was an excuse to try to fix me up with someone respectable, and by doing that, fix me. And I don’t want to be fixed, thank you.”
Wisteria waves her sage at them, and Theo coughs and fans the air with his hand.
“Well, since Jillian and I are together, there will be no future need for fix-ups.” Elliott’s voice is an angry growl. I like the way he puts his arm around me when he says it. It’s a little bit caveman, but sometimes that’s not a bad thing.
“Excuse me!” A waiter taps Wisteria on the arm. “This is a no-smoking section!”
“It’s sage,” she says calmly, and waves it in a wide arc. “The rules do not apply.”
“Says who?” he challenges her.
“Says the universe.” She smiles beatifically.
“I don’t know about that.” His brow furrows. “I’ll have to talk to the manager.” And he stalks off.
“That should end well,” Trevor observes drily. “Note to self, find new favorite waterfront restaurant.”
“Anyway, I don’t see what that has to do with the official family portrait.” My mother’s pouting now.
“Think about it. It’ll come to you.” Elliott’s voice has gone sharp.
“Watch the way you talk to my mother!” Theo bristles at him, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his jaw. Trevor moves forward a few inches and shoots him a murderous look.
Wisteria heaves a sigh. “If I’m ever going to be around your family again, I’m going to need a lot more sage,” she says to me. She shakes her head at them disapprovingly. “You’re misaligning my aura.”
“Her friend is crazy!” My mother complains to her husband. ”We didn’t misalign anything! We didn’t touch her!”
“Probably angling for some kind of lawsuit.” Theo sniffs disapprovingly. He points at the roof, where a security camera is attached. “Well, I can tell you right now that camera will have recorded everything, and you’re not getting a cent from us!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t touch your money. It would be infused with dark energy.” Wisteria waves the sage in his face, and Theo coughs again, his eyes watering.
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. Why is it that being near my family always makes me feel like I’ve rolled in nettles? That can’t be normal.
“Excuse me!” The waiter’s back, and he’s brought reinforcements in the form of a man with a “Manager” tag on his jacket. “You’ll all have to leave.”
“We were just heading out anyway.” Elliott grabs my hand. “We’re looking for a restaurant with a better class of clientele.” He shoots my mother a meaningful stare.
“Well, I never!” my mother sniffs.
“If only that were true,” I mutter, and we troop across the deck and down the stairs, with the manager and waiter following close behind. When we reach the sidewalk, Wisteria drops the sage and crushes it under her foot to extinguish it.
“My work here is done,” she says. She bends down and picks up the sage, which still has a few wisps of smoke curling up from the end, and she tosses it into a garbage can. “There’s an art installation nearby that I’ve been planning on attending. I shall leave you now.” She glances at Trevor. “Do you want to come with me? They have a buffet spread. I think these two need to talk privately.”
“Whatever. Since you ruined dinner for me. Only if there’s no more sage, though.”
“No promises.” She smiles beatifically. Then she waves at us. “Farewell, people of Earth.”
I stifle a laugh. “Yeah, I really don’t know how to respond to that.” We watch her go, marching off into the twilight with a disgruntled Trevor following in her wake
Elliott turns to me and shoves his hands in his pockets, his gaze rueful. “I’m sorry about that. It’s your family, and when they talked to you like that I saw red. But I went too far.”
“No, you did not.” I shake my head vigorously. “I have a hard time advocating for myself when it comes to them. It just sucks. I feel like all of my choices are bad ones. I can hang around them and let them make me feel small no matter what I do. Or I can avoid them, and that hurts too.”
“I support whatever decision you make,” Elliott says.
I tip my head back and look up at him. When I blink, I realize tears have beaded on my lashes. “What do you think I should do?”
“They haven’t left you with any good choices. Sometimes you have to choose the lesser of two evils. What’s most important is that you choose what’s best for you, because you’ve let them take enough from you. Stop trying to live to please them.”
Tears fill my eyes and turn the streetlights into pinwheels of light, and the people walking past us into blurs.
I feel something blotting at my face. I blink and see Elliott tucking a handkerchief back into his pocket. “I think that being around people who make you feel less than is unhealthy. I think it’s been eating away at you for far too long, and making it hard for you to see all the amazing things about you. You, Jillian Fletcher, are wonderful.” He cups my chin in his hand. “If I’m being honest, I think you should take a break from them for a little while. But if you don’t want to do that, and you need a shoulder to cry on afterwards, I am there with no judgement. They’re family, I get it.”
I blink again and look through my lashes, bright diamonds of prisms reflecting at me. I lean forward and sink into his arms with a sigh.
“You’re there for me with no judgement,” I repeat softly. “That’s all I need to know right now.”