Brooklyn
"Houston, we have a problem."
Blue grunted something unintelligible into her pillow and blindly flipped me off. I rolled my eyes and reluctantly moved closer to her bed, crouching down until I was close enough to see the cluster of freckles painting the length of her neck. The beauty mark curse is something we all got from our mom, and Blue and Bella usually took the extra time to cover them up with makeup whenever they're out in public. But honestly, I kinda like mine, so I've never bothered.
"Blue," I sighed exasperatedly. She still wasn't budging, and I could feel the clock ticking. It wouldn't be long before the news of Bella's absence broke and mommy came up here to interrogate us, so we had to be like ten steps ahead, minimum. And I know trying to wake Blue up out of her sleep was a dangerous game, especially since we weren't on the best terms right now, but this was important.
My eyes narrowed and scanned over her bedroom until they landed on something that might be useful.
"Blueeee. I said—" I reached for the half empty water bottle off of Blue's bedside table and popped off the cap, "HOUSTON, we have a PROBLEM."
I had the courtesy of giving Blue a solid five seconds to acknowledge my presence before I said fuck it and sloshed the water on her face.
Now that got her attention.
"Oh, you little—"
I swear to God I've never seen someone move so fast. Her blankets flew back and the massive pile of pillows stacked messily against her headboard began tumbling to the ground like Pompeii. Then she was on her feet, water dripping down her face and onto her t-shirt, hair messily covering her face, chest heaving. She kinda looked like that girl from The Ring.
"Wait!" I quickly held out my hands in surrender before she could lunge at me. "I swear it's important."
"Oh it better fucking be!"
I took a step back for my own safety.
"Blue, Bella's gone."
I could see the fight instantly leave her body as my words processed, and I sent a silent thank you up to God because she definitely would've kicked my ass had my excuse not been good enough.
Blue unclenched her fists and cocked her head to the side, staring at me with a blank expression.
"You've gotta be kidding me," She finally huffed. Before I could say anything else, Blue had her phone wedged between her shoulder and her ear while she switched out some old cheer shorts for a pair of sweatpants. Once she was dressed, she grabbed onto my arm and dragged me out of the room with her.
"Her phone's going straight to voicemail. Of course," Blue scowled, rolling her eyes. "You know, I understand why she's mad at mom. I do. But leaving without giving us some sort of heads up? Seriously? She knows mom is gonna ask a million fucking questions that we don't have the answers to, and somehow it'll become our fault. But mostly mine."
She muttered the last part underneath her breath, but I heard her. Still, I knew better than to ask her to elaborate right now. It seems like everyone's relationship with mommy is constantly on the rocks lately—except for me, obviously, the favorite—and I really don't want to get involved in the drama. This is one of the few times I've taken "stay out of grown folks' business" to heart.
"Maybe she's still on the property somewhere," I tried. After all, she wasn't in her bedroom, but that doesn't necessarily mean she hopped in her car and drove back to Malibu. She could be lurking in the shadows somewhere, and this house was huge. "Maybe we don't have to worry yet. Let's just think for a second....where are Bella's favorite places to go when she's super emotional?"
Blue thought for a second, and I did too. See, I remember all her hiding spots in our old house, but we moved some years ago—after Bella and Jeremiah were long gone—so we haven't exactly all lived here together.
"The library, tennis courts, art room, music room—the pool is too obvious, I think," Blue listed off. "Okay, listen, we're gonna split up. It'll be easier. Why don't you look inside and I'll search outside? And keep your phone on you because if she calls me back, I'll text you. And vice versa."
"Okay," I nodded. Just as we were about to split up, a small cloud of curly hair rounded the corner and immediately caught our eye. We shared a confused glance before looking back at our nephew.
"Hey aunties," Luca smiled, giving us a little wave. We only blinked in response. "Are you guys coming to breakfast? Amelie almost broke my door down to warn me that papa and Uncle 'Miah were gonna eat all the good stuff if we don't hurry."
"Uh, yeah, we'll be down in a few," I said slowly, thinking carefully about my next words. "Also, umm, you wouldn't happen to know where your mom is, do you?"
Luca shrugged. "I saw her a couple hours ago. She just told me to have fun with my cousins for the day and that she'd see me later, but our car's still outside so I'm not sure what she meant by that."
"Of course," Blue muttered. I shot her a look before glancing back to Luca.
"Okay, well we don't want to keep you from BB's cooking. Go before the good stuff's gone," I forced a smile, motioning for him to head downstairs. Luca didn't need me to tell him twice, and he was gone by the time I turned back around to look at Blue. "So, she definitely didn't leave for good since Luca's still here. I'll scope out the house and text you if I find anything."
Blue nodded. "And try to avoid running into mom if possible. The second she gets word of this, we're all fucked," She reminded me.
I returned her nod and turned on my heels, heading down the hallway to the right wing of the house.
*****
Isabella
"So, you rang?"
I slowly lifted my gaze from the lukewarm mug of tea and across the kitchen island, meeting a pair of narrowed green eyes. They belonged to an old, complicated friend of mine from college—one who I'd failed to completely separate myself from, despite the countless assurances to many that I would.
"Yeah, I rang," I muttered defeatedly. My brows furrowed and I fought the sudden urge to launch the beige smiley faced mug into the wall. "My parents think they're better than me."
Spencer let out a full belly laugh, and I glared at him. "Yeah, so, what's new. They've always been like that."
"Well it's bullshit," I snapped, feeling the anger starting to boil in the pit of my stomach again. I felt my face heating up and tried to take deep, steady breaths the way I'd learned in therapy all those years ago—but I hadn't been to a session in a long time, and it was obvious. "Do you know how many times my mom fucked up? How many mistakes she's made? But somehow accountability doesn't exist for her. No, she's just perfect and it's fuck everybody else. Beyoncé can do no wrong."
I shifted my glare to the colorful backsplash behind the stove and imagined that I was burning holes through the expensive tile. "She gives me this Oscar-worthy public apology last night—tears and all— and, just like before, everyone is pressuring me to forgive her. To move on. When all I've asked is to exist in peace, but my family won't leave me the fuck alone."
I palmed my forehead and puffed invisible steam through my nose. "I am so fucking sick of her. Of everything. I didn't ask for this. I just wanted to stay home with my kid but nobody listens to me."
Spencer just shrugged, unmoved. "So, what? You're here 'cause you want me to make you feel better? You could've just said that." He turned around and started rummaging through his drawers, but I quickly spoke up before things went too far.
"No—no. I don't—not anymore. Not since Luca, you know that."
"Well, actually I don't." Spencer turned back around to face me. "Your kid is what, six?"
"Almost seven," I nodded.
"Right. So, you haven't blessed me with your presence in almost seven years. Alone, anyway. I don't know what kinda shit you've been getting into, especially after those headlines dropped a couple years ago—"
"They weren't fucking true!" I yelled, jumping to my feet, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "I told you that! My mom is a fucking liar!"
Spencer sighed and shook his head. "Alright, yeah. Sorry, I forgot. But how should I know? You only call when you want something."
He let me sit with that for a minute while he moved silently around the kitchen, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard and placing them on the counter. He disappeared for less than a minute before returning with a bottle of Grey Goose.
"Liquor PG enough for you?" He asked while filling the glasses halfway.
I tapped my fingertips against the countertop and glanced at my watch. It wasn't even noon yet—but I also didn't drive here, and I already told Luca I'd be back later, so he wouldn't be expecting me until then. I had time to kill.
I shrugged. "Why the hell not."
///
Well, one drink turned into two, and two turned into four. Then I lost track. And suddenly, I was a tortured, child-free, nineteen-year-old again with freshly salted wounds and pounds of unresolved trauma.
I dropped my forehead against the island and released a guttural sigh. "Like I just don't know how much longer I can keep living like this," I slurred.
I could hear Spencer shifting on the couch a few feet away. "Living like what? Like every other super rich kid who thinks they have it the worst 'cause mommy and daddy didn't love them enough?"
He laughed at his own joke and I rolled my eyes.
"No, that's just you!" I huffed. Despite my head feeling like it was filled to the brim with bricks, I managed to lift it enough to glance over my shoulder. "My problem is that mommy and daddy love me too much—and I don't want them to. I don't want them at all! All their guilt and shame and bullshit apologies. They've ruined my life," I added sadly.
"But you have your kid back now," Spencer pointed out. "All's well that ends well."
"'S not about that."
"What's it about then?"
I was quiet for a moment. Spencer didn't push, and for a second I thought he'd passed out, but then I heard the leather squeaking again and knew he was still conscious.
My eyes found the ceiling and I felt myself disassociating as I spoke.
"Ten years ago, I was sitting on a yacht with fresh blood on my hands after the worst month of my life and my mom looked me in the eye and promised me that everything would be fine. That I'd be fine."
My chest started to feel tight but I ignored it. "But nothing in my life has been fine since then. Since I came back at all, really. Since I found them again, at that fucking hospital in Atlanta."
Suddenly, Spencer was standing across from me at the opposite end of the island. If I'd been sober, I would be really confused about how he managed to get over there so quickly.
"What about Luca? That's a good thing, right?" He paused, and looked at me for a minute. "Right?"
"Yeah. And I love him. So much," I amended. Spencer nodded slowly, but stopped when I opened my mouth again. "But he didn't come from a place of love," I whispered.
Before he could question me further, I stood to my feet and ignored the wobbling in my legs as I searched for my phone. "I need to go. It's starting to get late."
Spencer stepped in front of me. "Okay, wait a second. I'm not trying to hold you against your will or anything, but I don't think you should go back to your parents' house like this. It's just...." He trailed off and sighed. "It's not a good look," He said apologetically.
I glared at him. "Why? 'Cause it'll prove them right?"
"No, but you're about to blackout, Bella. USC wasn't that long ago, I remember your tells. Do you really wanna blackout in an Uber right now?" Spencer argued. "I'd drive you, but I'm fucked too. You've gotta wait a couple hours and sober up. I haven't seen you drink that water once, and you're gonna be sick if—"
"I don't HAVE to do ANYTHING! I'm tired of everyone telling me what I have to fucking do!" I screamed.
I grabbed my empty glass and launched it against the wall, watching it shatter into a million tiny pieces.
I could fucking relate.
While Spencer tried to process what the fuck just happened, I gave up on finding my phone and bolted out of his apartment without looking back.