Bad Influencer by Kenzie Reed
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jillian
It’s Wednesday. Apparently, my mother and Pansy are never going home. “It is the fifth day of the occupation,” I say to Bronwyn in grim tones. “It is the siege without end. Hope grows dim. Morale is at an all-time low.”
“The heck it is!” my mother shouts to be heard over the music of Back Alley Betty’s, a dive bar near my house. My mother has slathered on enough makeup to shame a drag queen, and Pansy is loudly singing along to Pink’s “So What”. If my father and Theo could see us now.
They’re already driving me crazy, besieging me with messages, pleading for the safe return of their wives. They alternate between bribes and threats. I keep answering that if they’re smart, they’ll back off and let my mother and Pansy calm down before they make any more direct approaches.
“They did fill up our refrigerator and restock our bar.” Bronwyn shrugs. “And Pansy cleaned the whole house twice already and cooked us a week’s worth of meals and mended our living room curtains. And they pet-sit for us. They’re not the worst roommates. I could get used to it.”
I glare at her. “I couldn’t. I’ll run away and leave you with my family. Don’t think I won’t.”
“And that would be bad, why?” Bronwyn grins at me.
And with that final blow to my pride, I spin around, turn my back to my former friend, and march up to the bar. “A shot of tequila,” I say. “The kind that takes the sting out of betrayal.”
The bartender arches an eyebrow. “Riiight.”
“Oh, I’ll have one of those.” Somehow, my mother has appeared at my side.
“Have you ever actually drunk tequila before?” I demand.
“No, and it’s high time I started.”
“Yeah, this isn’t going to end well.” But telling my mother not to do something is like… well, like telling me not to do something. Not that we’re anything alike, and I will shank anyone who dares to say otherwise.
She watches me as I knock back my tequila shot. Then she follows suit.
“Oh my God,” she coughs, her eyes watering. “What is this miracle juice? I feel all warm and tingly.” She turns to the bartender and holds out her empty shot glass. “Give me another one!” She turns around and calls out to Pansy, “Pansy, you’ve got to try this!”
And the three of us proceed to get rip-roaring drunk while Bronwyn nurses one beer and watches us in amusement.
Some time later, we’re sitting at a high-top table, bonding together and getting all weepy. “I never preeshiated how hard you work,” my mother slurs at me.
“You sure didn’t.” My voice is drink-blurred. I’ve lost count of how many shots I’ve downed.
“Now I’m going to preeshiate you. We’re all going to preeshiate you. Aren’t we, Panshy?”
“Sure are. We’ll preeshiate the hell out of her.” Pansy hiccups, then giggles. “I shwore in public!”
We’re bonding. Years… no, decades of resentment and misunderstanding are melting away in a pool of tequila. Everything’s going well until a red-faced drunk guy staggers by us and pinches my mother’s butt.
She shrieks in outrage.
“That’s my mom, you asshole!” I haul off and slap the guy.
The next thing I know there’s a bar fight, chairs are flying, tables are toppling, and we’re out on the sidewalk and eighty-sixed for life. It happens so fast I barely have time to catch my breath.
“What jusht happened?” my mother wonders as we stand on the sidewalk outside the bar.
“I think we got in a fight.” Pansy brightens. “I wash pretty good at it!”
“I’ve never been eighty-sixed before,” Bronwyn says happily. “See, we’re having all kinds of new experiences thanks to your family!”
“Oh my God, are we lucky we didn’t get arrested. Dad would blow a gasket,” I mutter.
“Thatsh hish problem, not mine,” my mother says. Drunk Mom’s pretty carefree about the whole thing. I doubt sober Mom will agree with her tomorrow.
We stagger the fifteen blocks back to our house, yodeling sea shanties. I didn’t even know my mother knew any sea shanties, but apparently she even knows the naughty parts.
When we get back to the house, we’ve started to sober up a bit. I put a pack of frozen peas on my black eye, Pansy dabs iodine on the scratches on her cheek, and my mother sprays antiseptic on her cut lip.
“Good lord. I’m an absolute scandal. I haven’t been out past midnight in decades,” my mother says.
“You still aren’t,” I snort. ”It’s only 10 p.m.”
“What? Lies!” my mother cries. She looks at the wall clock. “Oh my God. You’re right.”
“I’m a million years old,” Pansy groans. “When did I get so old?”
“Look, I’m well past my late-night party days too.” I yawn, then wince because it hurts my face. “We can just stay up and watch rom com movies and curse men.”
“I’m too tired.” My mother shakes her head. She gets up and staggers towards the guest room. “Let’s do that in the morning.”
In the morning, though, we all feel like death on a biscuit. We drink coffee, gobble aspirin, and wince in pain every time we hear car horns honk.
“Party life is hard,” my mother moans. “Even when you were partying, you were working hard. I had no idea.”
Pansy is resting her head in her arms on the kitchen table, and she whimpers in agreement.
I snort. “Told you. Why do you think I gave it up?”
At noon, the doorbell rings. Ari goes to answer it, then summons me, my mother, and Pansy.
My father is there with a big bouquet of flowers and an anxious look on his face. Theo is standing next to him, holding a box of chocolates.
“I’m sorry you’re upset about what I did,” my father says to my mother. Then he does a horrified double-take. “Oh my God, what happened to your face?”
“Your daughter beat me up,” she says, deadpan.
He gasps, then swings to glare at me. “You what?”
My mother sighs and nods at me sympathetically. “You know what, you’re right. He is severely humor impaired.”
“I am not! I have a great sense of humor!” he says in a wounded tone.
“You used to.” She narrows her eyes at him.
“I still do! Except when I’m under a massive amount of stress, which I am right now. Since my wife left me. Can I please come in?”
“What exactly do you think you’re apologizing for?”
He tries for a hopeful smile. “Whatever it is I did that upset you?”
“Pass.” And my mother slams the door in their faces. She marches past me. “I’m going back to sleep.”
My mother never sleeps during the daytime. This is serious.
I open the door to find my father and Theo still standing there. I reach out and grab the chocolates. “Try again tomorrow, that’s the best advice I can give you,” I say to them.
“What if she never comes home?” My father’s eyes are round with panic.
“I think we’re making progress. All right, drive safe now.” I shut the door again.
It takes us a full day to recover from our tequila hangover, which my mother now calls “Satan’s swill.” Georgia cuddles with my mother, Blinky nestles next to me on the couch, and Pansy sleeps on the air mattress in the guest room with a pillow over her head. The next morning, my head is clear but my mood is still glum.
Bronwyn and Pansy join me in the kitchen as I lean on the counter, with Blinky sleeping on my feet, and nurse a cup of tea. “What are you brooding about now?” Bronwyn asks. “Not Elliott again?”
“Kind of. I think there’s something hinky about the breakup with Elliott and his high school girlfriend. I want to talk to her about it.”
Bronwyn scrunches up her face in confusion. “You want to talk to his high school girlfriend? About what? That makes no sense. How would you even find her?”
“I want more info about this text she sent when she dumped Elliott. She supposedly just dumped him out of the blue and said she’d been cheating on him all along and… I don’t know, I can’t put my finger on it, but something feels off about it. Wisteria knows about what happened, so she might know her name. If I got her name, I bet I could track her down. There’s this amazing thing called the internet, or so I’ve heard.”
“And more importantly, are you actually trying to help Elliott? And even more importantly, why in the hell?”
“Yes, I am. Because something is off. I have a gut feeling that there’s something weird going on, and I think I trust my gut. Although my gut told me that Elliott is a great guy, so who even knows what I think anymore.”
“It sounds like he was a real jerk to you for no reason, though,” Pansy says.
My heart throbs in my chest. ”He thought he had reasons. I’m not sticking up for him. But the sad fact is, I still care about him. Not enough to put up with that kind of rotten behavior, but enough to want to make sure that he isn’t harboring a snake in the grass.”
Bronwyn lets out a slow, martyred sigh. “Well, I disagree, but if you need any help, I’m in.”
I grab my phone and call Wisteria, who answers with “Namaste.” I resist the urge to ask her how Elliott’s doing, and just ask her for the name of Elliott’s high school ex. A quick internet search tells me she only lives about twenty minutes from me.
An hour later my mother, Pansy, Bronwyn and I, who are apparently now the Four Musketeers, are walking down the steps when Theo hurries up to us. Their car is parked in our driveway. My father is in the passenger seat, hair disheveled, looking wretched, and the kids are in the back seat. Pansy waves at them, and they wave back.
Then she does a double-take. “Oh my God. What happened to Theodore’s hair? And is that permanent marker on— You know what, never mind.” She brushes past Theo and resolutely marches down the driveway.
“You haven’t heard my offer!” My brother looks desperate. He glances behind him. Violet and Theo are slapping each other. “Dad! Tell them to cut it out!” he yells. My father buries his face in his hands.
Theo looks at me with weary despair. “Hello, Jillian. Hello, Mom.”
“Comb your hair,” my mother says to him. “Who tied your tie for you? Hello, dear. Also, have you run out of clean shirts so fast?” Some things never change.
Pansy shakes her head. “Whatever it is you’re selling, I’m not buying it.”
“I’ll pay you one million dollars to end your vacation early.” He glances behind him at the car, then looks back at her, wild-eyed. He lowers his voice to a whisper. “They’re monsters.”
She nods. “Uh-huh.”
“How did I never notice that before?” He flashes a desperate smile. ”Because you were too incredibly busy being the most awesome wife and mother any man could want, and you kept everything under control. Also, seriously, I do not want any more children. I mean, I barely want the kids I have right now.” He buries his face in his hands. “Does that make me the worst father ever?”
“Yes, definitely,” I say.
“No, it makes you normal.” Pansy’s being a lot nicer than he deserves.
He looks up and glares at me. “Thanks for having my back.”
“Like you always have mine? Thanks for inviting me to your celebration dinner when you made partner.”
His face puckers in dismay. “You’re right. I just… We’re so different, Jillian. Not just the age gap, but we’re such radically different people. I spent my life with this image of how things should be, of the right way to live, and I thought I was being a good big brother trying to make you fit into that mold. I thought I was saving you from something, but I wasn’t. These last few days have shown me that the perfect life can be an illusion, and maintaining that illusion is way, way harder than it looks. And it’s not for everyone. Seriously? I hate being a house-husband.” He shudders. “Pansy. Have you been secretly miserable this whole time?”
“Of course not. I love being a domestic queen, and I’m darned good at it. Even damn good at it.” Theo’s eyes widen in shock at the mild swear-word that just spilled from his wife’s pristine lips. “I love our children. I love you.” Pansy leans over to yell in the direction of their car. “Theodore, if you pull your sister’s hair one more time, we’re going to have a problem!” Theodore immediately drops his hand and moves away from his sister. “Sorry, Mom!” he yells out the window. “I hope you’re having fun on your vacation! We miss you!”
“Miss you too! I’ll be back real soon!” she calls.
“Magic,” Theo whispers.
My mother nods in agreement. “You won the lottery with this one.”
“Thank you, Athena. And I am blessed beyond measure to have a mother-in-law who’s always appreciated me.” Pansy’s eyes gleam with affection, and she smiles at Theo. “I’m just someone who needs to fill their time. Too much time on my hands makes me want to climb the walls. I cannot sit in an empty house for eight hours a day.”
Theo puts his hand on his wife’s arm. ”If you come back home today, we can talk about what kind of job you think you’d like. I will totally support whatever you want to do. We’ll hire a nanny to watch the kids. We’ll hire five nannies.”
“You know what?” I say. ”First there’s something you need to do for the family. Apparently Dad still has no idea why mom’s mad at him. Go back to your car right now and ask our clueless father if he thinks it was really a great idea to tell Mom that he was canceling the anniversary vacation they’ve been planning since the day they got married. And if he says yes, then kick him in the nuts and tell him it’s from me.”
My mother barks out a surprised laugh, then claps her hand over her mouth.
“I am not... I will not...” he splutters. “I’ll tell him, but I am not kicking our father in the nuts!” He looks at Pansy pleadingly. “You’re coming home, aren’t you? Sweetheart? Darling? Most gorgeous and wonderful woman ever?”
“Actually, we are going on a quest,” I say. ”But it’s a short quest, so if she wants to go home she could be back in time for dinner. Which you will order in for her, as a nice welcome home. And maybe some flowers.”
“Oh my God, yes,” he says fervently.
Pansy nods and sighs. “Fine. I should probably come back while our kids still have some hair left.”
We walk towards my car. “Will it be a dangerous quest?” Theo calls out to her.
“Yes,” Pansy calls back. ”If I don’t make it home, tell the kids I love them.”
“Jillian!” He shoots me a narrow-eyed look. ”If she doesn’t make it home, you get custody of my children. Even if I’m alive and well. That’s the worst threat I could possibly make. Trust me on this. So you’d better return my wife in one piece.”
We all climb into my car. “Oh heck,” Pansy groans as she buckles her seatbelt. “I’m such an idiot.”
“You don’t want to go home? You don’t have to,” I say. Please want to go home. Watching her clean the house with a near-religious zeal every waking hour is exhausting.
“It’s not that. I just feel totally stupid. I made this huge deal about wanting a part-time job, but actually I don’t have any idea what I could do, or would want to do.”
“Yes, you do!” I say. She looks at me in surprise. “I do?”
“You’re going to open a match-making agency, and you’re going to be absolutely kick-ass at it.”
A slow smile spreads across her face. “Yes, I am.” She grins at me. “I really am.”