CHAPTER 2
HOME SWEET HOME
SLOANE MAY HAVE AGREED to Bobby's demands, but that didn't mean she was happy about it.
What did he think this trip would do? Give her closure on her family trauma, or give her even more of it? Finally help her connect with her new stepfather and his son? Make her stop drinking and all the other disastrous stuff she did to her body on a daily basis? Yeah, like that was going to happen. Sloane was righteously independent. If she wanted help, she would do it on her own terms.
But still, she agreed to Bobby's deal, and groaned as soon as she stepped foot into her apartment that evening. She picked up her cat and hugged him to her chest. "I guess you're gonna be staying with an old man and his sweet wife for a bit, Jerry." The cat looked up as if he could understand her, and Sloane tapped his nose. "Little does he know that you hate men."
After a few more minutes of head scratches and one opened can of Fancy Feast, Sloane trudged to her room and dug out her suitcase from her closet. She hadn't used this in – gosh, it was probably college. She shuddered at the memories. Tearing through her closet, she threw all her warmest sweaters and pants on the floor. They'd make it inside the suitcase soon enough. Why did she agree to this again?
Oh, yeah, the Seldon award.
Sloane sat in the middle of the pile of clothes on the floor and grabbed the Smirnoff bottle hidden right next to her vibrator inside her nightstand. She took a swig and evaluated her life choices. She really did not want to go back to Queens, but she promised Bobby she'd leave by tomorrow. There was hardly any buffer period to prepare for her mother. She took another big gulp and pulled out her phone.
She texted her mom that she would finally be visiting for Thanksgiving and a work assignment. Surprisingly, she got a response quickly. K, see you soon, honey. Frank and Everett will be delighted, her mother sent. No enthusiasm, no excitement. Her mom had begged her years ago to visit, and when she finally got what she wanted, it simply wasn't exciting anymore.
Jerry walked into the room and halted when he saw Sloane on the floor. He stared blankly at her, his large belly practically sweeping the ground.
She tilted the Smirnoff in his direction and asked, "Can we trade places?"
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Bobby drove her to the bus station the next morning. "Least I can do," he said with a shit-eating grin. Sloane replied with an aggressive roll of her eyes, but her heart still softened when she handed Jerry's carrier to Bobby once they were parked. She gave Jerry a kiss through the bars, even though the cat hardly gave a shit that she was going away for a bit. She was going to miss his purrs in the morning.
"Tell me why you can't bring him again?" Bobby asked, placing the carrier in the backseat.
"My mom's allergic to cats," she said, adjusting the strap of her backpack. "I got Jerry to spite her."
Bobby laughed as the bus to New York slowly pulled up to the station. Sloane sighed and waved her ticket. "That's my ride."
They stared at each other for a minute, and then finally went in for a gut-wrenching hug. Sloane had never squeezed anyone that tightly before. She didn't hug him like a boss, or a friend. She hugged him like a dad, and it felt good. Mucus was already building up in her nose and she sniffled, attempting to hide the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes.
Sloane stepped back and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. "Bye, Bobby," she smiled genuinely.
"Make sure you let me know when you get there." He stuck his hands into his front pockets. "See you later, Bernstein."
She rubbed her eyes and headed towards the bus. She handed both her suitcase and ticket to the driver, who pointed in the direction of the doors. Sloane walked up the stairs, glanced back at Bobby, and waved one last time before disappearing inside the bus.
Leaning back in her seat, Sloane tucked herself into her parka and slipped the infamous flask out of her backpack. The vodka burned down her throat in a delightful way. All the chills dissipated from her body as the alcohol ran through her. She sighed and thought, Bobby is going to hell for this.
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It took ten hours, a bus, and a train to finally get to Queens. First, Sloane had to endure that almost eight-hour ride to Penn Station, which she spent most of the time either drinking or sleeping. She was thoroughly intoxicated by the time they arrived at Penn Station, and then she had to wait for the train to take her to Queens. Sloane's head was already pounding like the beat of a drum and her vision felt like it was spinning. So she went upstairs to get a water out of the vending machine, and then had to fight with the machine because it ate her money. She chugged the water as soon as she got it and headed downstairs, just narrowly missing her train. Of course, it had arrived as soon as she walked away. Another hour later, she was stepping out of the station and inhaling the scent of burnt street food and piss.
"Home sweet home," she muttered to herself.
Her mother now lived in Long Island City, one of the most expensive neighborhoods in Queens. It was such an extreme contrast compared to Middle Village, where Sloane grew up in an old triple-decker house. Now, her mother lived in a newly renovated building, right on the water, with direct access to Manhattan. And it was all thanks to her new husband, Francis Harper, heir to the Harper Watch dynasty. Sloane was pretty sure just about everyone she walked by in Long Island City was wearing a Harper watch. If you were wealthy, you owned at least three.
Sloane's mom, Sabrina, had met Frank on the subway four years ago. Now, what business did such a rich guy have on a train, Sloane would never know. But Sabrina had sat next to him because she thought he was handsome, and it spiraled from there. She was thrown headfirst into a Cinderella story, gifted with gowns, jewelry, and especially, Harper watches. Frank lavished her with whatever she wanted, even allowing her to care for his teenage son, Everett, whom he had with another woman. (Frank had his fair share of marriages already, and Everett was the only one he got full custody of.) And before she knew it, they were married. Eloped, actually. Sloane had to find out about it via Facebook, of all places. Sabrina didn't call her to tell her and Sloane did the same. She simply sent her mother a congratulatory bouquet and it was done with.
She was Sabrina Harper now. Not Sabrina Bernstein-Harper or Sabrina Harper-Bernstein. Sloane was the only one to carry on the family name, and her mother decided to leave it in the dust for the heir to a watch company.
They didn't talk much since Sloane moved to Vermont. Well, at first, they tried to. Sabrina always tried calling, and her daughter would actively try to avoid her phone. And then, it became less and less. They only talked on each other's birthdays, sometimes holidays, and Sloane liked it that way.
It hadn't always been like that. While her mother had never been the best, things had been okay growing up. Sabrina wasn't good with children, despite loving them. Perhaps, too much. She was overbearing, neurotic, and talked to a young Sloane as if she were already an adult. She would swear at her and blame her for things that weren't her fault. But when Sloane needed her, she was the most loving person and doted on her every whim.
Sloane's dad, Jim, was the exact opposite, which made him and Sabrina the perfect fit. Sloane liked her father so much more, and it was obvious. Sloane's love for her father most likely contributed to Sabrina's resentment. But during the fall of Sloane's sophomore year of high school, the resentment manifested into something bigger. Jim died due to a heart attack at the young age of forty-three.
His death ultimately led to Sabrina and Sloane's distaste for each other. Without Jim there, their house wasn't a home anymore and he wasn't there as a barrier to hold their hatred back. While Sabrina was still her obsessive motherly self from time to time, her anger got worse, and so did Sloane's. She was her mother's daughter after all. And when Sloane moved out at eighteen, they both secretly knew it was for the best.
Sloane wondered if her mother still cared about her past life with Jim, if she still visited his grave after he had died all those years ago. Probably not, since it would look bad if the new Harper wife was seen on the poor side of the cemetery.
But the past seemingly didn't matter anymore, because Sabrina had a new husband and child to care for. She had traded her analyst position at Maspeth Federal Savings for the dutiful housewife role. And Sloane, well ... Sloane moved to the middle of nowhere, wrote about murderers for a living, and binge drank until her heart felt full again.
Viewing down at her phone screen, Sloane studied the address her mother gave her and looked up at the building across the street. This had to be it. The Rosewell on 50th Avenue. Sloane's stare dragged up the tall building marveling at the reflective windows and golden exterior. The entrance was flocked by large rosebushes and there was a doorman on either side of the door.
Sloane looked like a fish out of water as she approached the Rosewell, but the doorman on the right still tipped his cap in her direction, opening his side for her. She feigned a smile and headed inside. There was a list of every name living inside the building just after the front door. Sloane's eyes trailed up the list until they found, HARPER – Penthouse. She blinked, almost not believing it. Living in a penthouse apartment was vastly different than their bottom floor space in the triple-decker, and even more extravagant than Sloane's current one-bedroom. She swallowed hard and took the elevator.
Watching the stories tick up and up had her palms growing sweaty. The handle to her suitcase was practically slipping out of her grip. The elevator reached the twentieth floor when it finally stopped. Sloane held her breath, and then the doors opened.
The penthouse was all wood flooring and earthy-toned wallpaper. Sloane walked into the primary hallway, her boots squeaking against the freshly-cleaned floors, and she stared at the pieces of artwork hung up on each wall around her. Various Harper watches were displayed on a table. But nothing compared to the beauty of the living room. The hallway opened up to it, and Sloane ogled the white fur carpet, the large gold couch, the grand piano by the sweeping window, the 80-inch television screen mounted to the wall, and the several other paintings adorning the walls. Behind the piano, there was even a painting of Sabrina, Frank, and Everett. Connected to the living room was the expansive kitchen with a bar, and then the dining table in front of it. Two hallways were situated on the right and left of the living room, probably leading to the various bedrooms and offices.
"Um – hello?"
Sloane whipped her head around, noticing a head had popped up behind the couch. It was a teenage boy with a mop of dark blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. He was staring at her, completely unbothered, holding a Nintendo Switch. Sloane gripped her suitcase handle and stood up straighter. "Oh, uh –"
"Who are you?" He demanded.
"Sloane," she answered sharply. "And you are –"
"Oh, you're her." He turned back to his Switch and called out, "She's here!"
Sloane furrowed her brow, opened her mouth to ask a question, but she was cut off by the sound of heels clicking quickly in her direction. She looked to the left and saw her mother walking towards her. Sabrina wore a Calvin Klein sweater dress and her golden hair curled at the base of her neck. Her face was free of any makeup besides the mascara enhancing her big grey eyes and the concealer attempting to hide her wrinkles. She strode towards Sloane with her arms spread out, a tall figure following behind.
"Sloane," Sabrina cooed, wrapping her daughter into her embrace. Sloane simply curled her arms around her mother's shoulder blades and patted. "It's so good to have you here, honey. Finally."
"Hi, Mom," Sloane sighed, her eyes roaming up Frank's towering form. She didn't realize how tall he was in photos, and he had the kind of face that belonged in a Renaissance painting: sullen, brooding, yet perfect. His dark blonde hair was mixed with strands of grey, similar to the eye color she shared with her mother. But his eyes – she'd admit, they were one of the prettiest shades of green she'd ever seen. Or were the hazel? It didn't matter. But Sloane could understand why her mother was head over heels for him.
Too bad he turned Sabrina into a trophy wife.
Unlatching herself away, Sabrina placed a hand on Frank's back and smiled proudly at him. "Frank, this is my beautiful daughter, Sloane. Sloane, you know Frank."
Sloane reached out and shook his hand. "Actually, I don't."
They both laughed. Sabrina's was more nervous, and her eyes creased as she realized her daughter was right. But Frank seemed genuinely tickled by Sloane's comment. After shaking her hand, he cupped it in both of his and patted her fingers. "Lovely to meet you, Sloane. Your mother has told me so much about you."
Sloane wanted to say, Why do I find that hard to believe? But she held her tongue. After all, she needed a place to stay while she was on assignment. She didn't have the money to stay anywhere else.
The couple turned to find the teenage boy still on the couch, Switch in hand. Frank sighed and said, "Everett, won't you please come over and meet your stepsister?"
Everett groaned in that overdramatic, teenager way and threw his Switch onto the couch. With a frown, he trudged over to their conversation and stuck his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Hey," he greeted in a bored tone, "I'm Everett. Can I go now?"
Frank blinked at his son's attitude. "Excuse you, boy –"
"You can go back to playing your game, sweetie," Sabrina interrupted, gesturing back to the couch with her fingers. She pulled on her husband's arm and tutted, "Just let him do his thing. He's fine."
As Everett jumped back on the couch, Sabrina approached her daughter and assured in a low voice, "He really is a sweet kid. An angel, actually. Nothing like how you were growing up."
Sloane sighed inwardly. It only took two minutes for the insults to start.
Sabrina waved her hand around the place. "I'm sorry for the mess. I wasn't expecting you. Kinda wish you phoned earlier in the week, honey. The apartment is simply not up to par for visitors."
"It's fine, Mom," Sloane feigned a smile. "I would've waited, but this all came about very suddenly. My editor at work sent me down here last minute, and I thought with the holidays being so close, I could come here to celebrate."
Sabrina tapped her chin. "That reminds me ... I need to tell the caterer for Thanksgiving to make more food. Crap, I hope it isn't too late."
"Your editor?" Frank asked, ignoring his wife's comment. "Ah, yes, Sabrina mentioned you're a writer."
Sloane nodded. "I'm here to write about the Jawbreaker. It's going to be a big article."
"That serial killer?" Her mother scoffed. "Sloane, I just – I just don't understand why a young woman like you would want to concern yourself with that."
"Like I said, it's going to be a big article for the Post. And since I'm from around here, it'll be more personal. I could be nominated for an award –"
"Those girls that were murdered ... they were local, Sloane. All us PTA moms knew them. We're having a hard time processing it. And you know, all the kids, they have a curfew now. It's just been so much ..." She shook her head as Frank placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "And if you write about it ... what are people going to think of our city? Of Frank's business? Of me?"
Frank said, "Brina –"
"Mom," Sloane interrupted, running a hand through her hair, "it'll be good for me to find out information and get it out there. And for my career –"
"You know what? This conversation – it doesn't matter. I can't be talking about this." Sabrina rubbed at her temples. "Don't tell me what you're doing or what you know. Just be my daughter while you're around me. Not the writer."
Sloane closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled through her nostrils. When she opened them again, she nodded and replied, "Noted."
Sabrina's frown immediately vanished and was replaced by a sweet smile. "Well, now that that's out of the way ..." She hooked her arm through Sloane's. "Why don't I show you the rest of the place? Frank, be a dear and take my daughter's suitcase."
Sabrina led her down the hallway to the left, where she and Frank had emerged. That had to be where the master bed and bath were. But as they passed by the couch, Sloane couldn't help but focus on Everett, who made sure to stare at her until Sabrina carried her off.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: me? updating twice a week? naurrrrr. but seriously when was the last time I did that ?????? anyway, I wanted to post this just bc I've been prewriting so much and as you can tell, I'm a wee bit excited 😋 and before you ask, peter isn't showing up until another chapter or two later, but it'll aaaaallllllll be worth it. I promise 🥰
fyi!!! some lines in this chapter (specifically, when sloane was talking to her mom and frank) were inspired by and taken from a scene in sharp objects!