Page 14

Chapter Fourteen

“Mom’s worried she might have been a little rough on you.”

“A little rough? Have you seen Mommie Dearest ?” I ask. “Joan Crawford was way sweeter and showed more remorse.”

“The vampire does have a pulse,” Jess says. “It just beats very, very slowly.”

She laughs to herself.

“And you know she doesn’t own a wire hanger.”

I can’t help but smile.

Is my sister siding with me for once?

“So true,” I say. “And her clothes get way more love and attention than I do.”

“What happened?” she continues. “She was Shakespearian in her explanation.”

I tell her how it went downhill quickly from a Disney movie to a Rob Zombie film.

“Did you know swans are often vicious toward one another and will kill within the family?” she asks. “We see them as these elegant creatures—beautiful, long-necked, gorgeous plumage, bright-beaked—and yet they are naturally aggressive to each other. Their instinct is to maintain power as well as protect the flock.” Jess waits a beat. “Sometimes, their instincts—and messages—get mixed.”

The world seems to change color before my eyes. Did my sister name her BookTok group as an homage to Capote’s Swans or as a subtle swipe at our mother?

“Did you…” I start.

“Aren’t words magical?” Jess asks instead, cutting me off before I can finish my question. “How we use them? Which ones we choose and why? We really only require a few words in life to make everything better. I love you. I’m here. How can I help? I will never leave. And yet we always seem to choose the wrong ones. Especially this family of wordsmiths. The magic of an author is to pick the right words at the right time. That’s why I love books, Emma, even though you think I do it only for the money. The beauty of a book is not to hide from the world but rather our second chance to make it right. We can reimagine and reinvent, see the world in an entirely new way simply by turning a page.”

I can hear her breathing. Then the sound of a metal top popping open and what I can only assume is a mint going into her mouth.

“Turn the page on Mom,” Jess finally says. “Reimagine her. Reimagine us .”

Jess’s unexpected honesty and tenderness takes me off guard, but I am still leery of getting attacked by my own flock.

“Why aren’t you still angry at me over how I treated Marcus and stormed out of the Hamptons?” I ask.

“I am, Emma. I’m still really pissed at you for being such a brat.”

“But?”

“But I want my sister back.”

A heave from somewhere deep inside, a tsunami of hidden emotion tidal waves from my gut, and I push my cell into my leg to cover the sound. I gasp.

I watch two girls on the beach burying one another in the sand. I can see me and Jess playing and laughing—simply being sisters—before the world began to hurt us, and we began to hurt one another.

“Why now?” I ask.

“Our family has always prided itself on its independence, and we both have always taken pride in that, too,” Jess says. “But now I’m worried our flock is becoming isolated, and it’s hard to protect each other when we’re swimming all alone and other predators are able to infiltrate.”

“You’re sort of freaking me out,” I say.

“Would you just listen to me and check your mouth at the door for a moment?”

Ouch.

“Yes.”

“I want to tell you a story,” Jess says. “About someone you know and don’t. Me.”

I shift in my chair and watch the two girls wash the sand off one another in the lake.

“I’ve been drowning my whole life, Emma. Do you know how lucky you are to know that someone loved you unconditionally, more than anything else in the world? You were the center of GiGi’s universe. Yes, I know GiGi loved me, but I also know I wasn’t you. Parents and grandparents say they never have favorites. The world looks at someone who dares think that as if they have two heads. But they do. They just never say it out loud. You were just like GiGi—brash, outspoken, independent, never caring much what the world—and men—thought of you. And I know how scared you were when you got caught in that rip current as a girl and how angry you were at us for not racing to help, but, Emma, you were in the best hands possible. GiGi would never have let anything happen to you. And you probably don’t remember this, but she got to you in a matter of seconds, carrying you home, her little seagull. But I’ve always been out there in the lake slowly drowning, no one watching. I was the firstborn, Emma. The firstborn is supposed to be the golden child, but you came along and broke all of the rules without giving a damn about what you said or what anyone thought. I think you’re so angry at the world after GiGi’s death because now you know how the rest of us feel—totally adrift, utterly alone.”

“Why didn’t you ever say something?” I ask.

“Because you’ve always had friends.”

“You have friends,” I say. “Babe.”

“She is a friend,” Jess says. “But she’s a friend I pay a salary. And you always wonder inside if they love you for you or if they love you because there’s a paycheck attached.”

“Oh, Jess,” I say.

“It’s always been easy for you to make friends, from boarding school to college. You’re actually more like Mom than you like to imagine.”

“Hey!” I say.

“It’s true,” Jess says. “You’re a fierce protector of your flock. You bite when you get threatened. Have you ever thought about how men treat me? I’m an object, like an expensive car that they want to touch, drive, be seen around town with, own. But it’s even worse with women. Do you have any idea how they treat me?”

I am speechless at Jess’s revelation. I always believed my sister had it so easy in life. I thought her looks unlocked every door. I was always jealous of her, and I now wonder if I locked her out of my life without considering what she might be dealing with.

I did lock her out.

When she asked if she could hang with my friends, I’d say no.

When she asked if she could read next to me on the sofa, I’d say no.

When she asked if she could play a game with me, I’d refuse.

I didn’t mean to shut her out, I just invented a storyline for her that wasn’t close to reality.

“No,” I finally say.

“They make an impression of me based solely on my looks before they even get to know me. I’m a snob, a bitch or a slut. And I guess I’ve gotten used to leaning into those stereotypes to prove them right. I have a disease to please, and I know it’s not healthy, but all I want is to feel seen and loved. It’s awful, Emma, and it eats away at my soul like rat poison.”

“Jess, I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” she says. “I’m sorry, too, because I know you get treated a certain way for speaking your mind. All women get treated a certain way. I’m just tired of being sorry.”

“But look at all The Swans who follow, admire and love you, Jess.”

“They love an image of me, Emma. They have no idea who I really am.” She sighs. “I think there’s only one person who sees me as clearly as I see myself.”

“Who?”

“You.”

I watch the two girls reach into the lake and—together—pick up a large, colorful stone and toss it in the air. It makes a huge splash.

I feel as if a weight has been lifted from me and against my better judgment, I ask, “Can I tell you a story now?”

“Of course.”

And so I tell her about what Marcus said about destroying our family.

“I know you might not believe me, but I’m telling the truth, sis, and I’m terrified,” I say. “I’m scared for Mom and Dad, you, the company, the future of The Mighty Pages. I’m worried about the future of our family. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you wouldn’t have believed me a few days ago.” I hesitate. “I’m worried you still won’t.”

Her unnerving silence makes me think I shouldn’t have told her.

She doesn’t believe me.

Now she has locked me out.

“Babe found a photo on social media someone took of you and Marcus,” she finally says. “It wasn’t the salacious one Page Six used of him looking so abused, it was one taken right before that. He is glowering at you, saying something to anger you. Someone else told Babe she overheard Marcus mocking you. I do believe you, Emma. Now I know why you threw a drink in his face.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

She sighs deeply. “Because he’s threatened me, too. He’s warned me not to say anything to you or Mom and Dad. That’s why he wanted to talk with me at Liber. I told you, our flock is being isolated. He’s playing us against each other.”

“What does he really want?”

“I don’t know yet, but maybe we can figure it out.” She hesitates. “Together.

“I need my sister,” Jess continues. “Now. More than ever.”

“Come home,” I say. “Please. The front door will be unlocked.”

“I’m booking my ticket as we speak.”