Broken World (5 page)

Maybe you should talk to someone
, Ari texts.

I rub my face. I’m about to defy my daddy to pursue an abortion. How can I manage that quietly while also costing him the election by naming Robert Conner publicly?

I can’t
, I text back.

Dom texts me the same link. I feel like shit for a different reason. I feel like I’m the one who hurt this girl, and Dom now knows how much of a coward I am. My eyes water. Just when I think I can pull it together, everything falls apart again.

I hesitate then text Dom.
Same DNA?

I wait for his answer, not wanting to know the truth. I arrive home and go to my room to change out of my wet clothing. The black portfolio is on my desk again. I cross to it. It holds only the police ball invitation, Shea’s instructions on what to wear and what time to be ready for the car.

It’s in three days, on Thursday. There’s no way I can face a room full of cops knowing I could’ve helped them save this girl from the pain she’s in. My phone vibrates.

We’ll talk. When/where?
Dom’s message hits me hard. I sink into my chair. Up ‘til that moment, I’d been praying he’d tell me it wasn’t related. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to face him and tell him no one more time. I don’t know if I can, now that someone else got hurt.

On my way over!
Ari’s text helps me breathe again.

I stand and pace. The hope I’d begun to feel crumbles and is replaced by that raw sensation I hate.

Ari gets there quickly and enters my room, cursing the rain. She jerks off her sweater and changes in the middle of my room. Sighing, she looks at me, then the closet.

“You’re okay?” she asks.

“No.”

“Well, you’re not in the closet. That’s really good, Mia. I’m proud of you!”

Her sweet faith in me makes me want to cry. She hugs me hard then sits on the bed to pull off her wet shoes.

“School starts next week,” she reminds me. “Can you go?”

“Yeah.” I sit back at the desk. “Ari …”

“Okay, I did something,” she says. She takes a deep breath. “No names, no circumstances, nothing. I talked to someone on Daddy’s legal team. I asked them how someone can come forward about a crime without you know, coming forward about a crime.”

“And? Is there an anonymous way of doing it?” I ask.

“Short story, no,” Ari answers. “The accused has the right to face his accuser.”

“Then there’s no way –”

“They can subpoena you.”

“Meaning …”

“Meaning they can force you to go in and testify.” Ari looks happy about this.

“That doesn’t help me.” I slump. “So there’s still nothing.”

“Mia, don’t you get it? If they have enough evidence, they can make you come in. I think that’s what they were fishing for when you went in. Think about it,” she continues. “If they make you go in, your daddy couldn’t get in the way. You’d have to tell them, right?”

“If they could do that, Chris would make it go away,” I remind her. “I don’t want to go in. I don’t want to relive everything. Or lose my family.”

“Your family treats you like shit anyway.”

I hear it in her voice. She thinks I’m wrong. Maybe she knows what I’m secretly thinking, that I really could’ve helped this girl. Maybe she thinks the same about me. I study her. Does she blame me for this happening?

No, Ari loves me. She’s the sister I never had. All I ever see in her eyes is compassion and understanding.

“Dom wants to talk to me about it,” I say uncertainly.

“Go.” There’s no hesitation in her voice. “If you get subpoenaed, you have to do what they say. Maybe you can find out if they’re going to do that.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Plus, he’s hawt.”

I roll my eyes at her.

“Tell him yes. Now. Before you back out and regret it,” she orders me. “Meet him somewhere where the paparazzi can’t see you.”

We’re both quiet for a moment. There’s determination on her face. I’ve been praying all day for Number Eight. Ari doesn’t blame me now, but what if Number Eight dies? I can’t lose my Ari. Sighing, I crumble to my best friend, who’s ten times smarter and better than I’ll ever be.

“I’m going to the police ball this week,” I say slowly. “I can meet him there.”

“That’s a great idea!”

Police ball
, I text him.

“Oh, god that reminds me,” I say and tug Shea’s instructions on what to wear out of the portfolio. “She wants me to dress like some sixty-year-old woman.” I hand the note to Ari.

She makes a face. “Seriously? I’ve never been, but no. I mean, it’s a black tie affair. But a pantsuit? Usually Shea is on the ball with this stuff.”

“You know what dresses I have. I don’t think they’re quite right.”

Ari giggles. “Those are party dresses. You need a princess dress.” She pretends to dance around my room.

“You have princess dresses,” I say. “Don’t you go to these things?”

“Every once in awhile,” she replies. Unlike me, Ari likes dressing up. “We can go to lunch then shop for a dress tomorrow.”

“I hate this stuff,” I mutter. “I’d rather wear jeans just to make sure Daddy never invites me again.”

“I think you should try to look better than Molly,” she advises, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Then when you tell him you’re never going with him again, he’ll regret it more.”

“Seriously, Ari? You know Daddy better.”

“Whatever. Fine then. You should look nice for Dom.”

“I like Dom but what if he just wants me to testify to help his career? I couldn’t bear to find out that he wants to use me like everyone else,” I say firmly. “It doesn’t matter what I wear. Besides, I don’t want anything to do with men. Ever.”

She rolls her eyes and flops on my bed. I can’t help liking her idea, though, of looking good for Dom. It’s silly and stupid. I shouldn’t care.

I keep telling myself that the next day, too, even as I go through dress after dress at an exclusive boutique in Chevy Chase, after I do my time at the women’s center. This is one of the few places that can have a dress ready for the next evening. Ari shakes her head at everything I try on, even the ones I like.

Finally, I find a floor length, pale blue silk dress with sparkles. It looks good, fits well, and I love the cool, blue color. But it’s off the shoulder, and I’m not comfortable in something revealing.

“Yes!” Ari says, pushing the curtain to the dressing room open. “That’s it! Formal, floor length. We can put a scarf with it for your shoulders. And … hair up. I can do it!”

“You sure?” I ask, whirling around.

“Yep.”

I buy it grudgingly, hoping it isn’t ready in time. But Ari wins this round; they have a seamstress on staff that finishes the alterations before we leave the shop. For once, I kind of hope I look decent for a public appearance. I can’t help thinking it’s because of Dom.

Thursday morning, I stand in my closet and stare at the dress. It’s gotta be better than a pant suit, right? It’s definitely out of place among my typical choice of dresses.

There’s a knock at my door. I cross to it and see my half-brother, Joseph, dressed in clothes I’ve never seen him in before. He’s wearing gym pants and a t-shirt. And carrying a basketball.

“You want to play a game?”

I stare at him like he’s crazy.

He chuckles. “I know you play. Molly used to complain about how unladylike it was to see you and Ari with Ari’s brothers out back.”

I can’t help my smile. “That’s why we played here sometimes instead of at Ari’s.”

“I thought so,” he says. “C’mon. Let’s go shoot.”

“Do you even know how to shoot?” I ask critically. My half-brother is known for his smarts, not his athletic prowess. I can’t remember hearing he played any sports in all his years of college.

“One way to find out!”

I close the door and change. I’ve never see this side of Joseph. Just like I’ve never seen the kinder side of Molly. Maybe this is what normal brothers should be like, but it’s … weird.

I join him in the backyard at the basketball-tennis courts area. Molly always played tennis, and I avoided it for that reason. I watch Joseph shoot the ball as I approach and hide a smile. He shoots with two hands, though his aim isn’t too bad. I’m wondering if this is his way of trying to meet me at my level or to be a better brother.

Grabbing a rebound, I shoot the ball then wait for it to bounce back before passing it to him.

“What made you feel like playing basketball this morning?” I ask.

His next shot is so off, I almost laugh.

“That’s what big brothers do, isn’t it?” he replies.

“I have no idea!”

“Yeah, me neither. Seems like a good place to start.”

I snort. He really has lost his mind. Flying back from who-knows-where to pretend like he wants to play basketball with the half-sister he hasn’t spoken to directly in years?

“How is Ana .. Ara ..” I drift off, not remembering the name of his long-time girlfriend.

“Arabella.”

“Right. How is she?”

“We broke it off last year.”

“Oh, sorry,” I mutter.

“It’s one of the reasons I decided to leave the UN.”

“You left? As in quit?” I ask, surprised. “Does Daddy know?”

“Of course. It’s part of my career plan. Daddy wanted me to leave a couple of years ago to follow him into politics. I wanted to wait until I had a little more experience,” Joseph explains. “I broke it off with Arabella. When I heard your news, I figured it’d be a politically smart thing to move back now.”

I roll my eyes. “Now you’ll go into politics?”

“The family biz.”

“We’re not a family,” I muse. “We’re more like a mafia. Don’t you think?”

Joseph laughs. My brother almost seems like a nice guy.

“Mr. Abbott-Renou, your guests are here.”

I turn at the voice and see three men following the butler. One of them has a huge camera while the other is carrying a large bag. The third is clearly the reporter or writer or whoever is here to interview Joseph. He’s got a portfolio under one arm and is dressed in jeans and a blazer.

I straighten and look at Joseph, realizing he’s set me up this morning. He goes into game mode right in front of me and waves at the men. Approaching me, Joseph whispers, “Shea’s plan to make me look like a down-to-earth family man. Big brother playing basketball with his little sis, who happens to be the darling of our party right now.”

“Wait, so was anything you said true about being here to support me?” I demand.

“Of course. Molly and I are both supporting you, in our own ways. But we still have an obligation to what you charmingly call the mafia. Right?” Then he’s off and smiling pretty for the interview team.

Lame
. Fuming, I shoot basket after basket as he schmoozes the interview team. I hear the camera snapping pics. I’m not even wearing make-up this morning. He grabs a rebound after half an hour and shoots. I glance over, not surprised to see the photographer moving in for more pics of him in action.

The interviewer standing in the shade of the huge oak nearby looks pleased. I don’t think Molly or Joseph could give a bad interview.

“Can I get a picture of you together?” the photographer asks.

I bite my tongue. Joseph has at least pretended to be nice to me. He approaches and slings his arm around my shoulders, grinning big.

“Smile,” he orders.

I do. Not because I want to, but because suddenly, I’m not angry anymore. If anything, I realize that – for once – my family isn’t trying to hide me away. The idea that
I’m
the one making Joseph look
normal
strikes me as funny.

I twist my neck to look up at him. He grins down at me.

“Not too bad, is it?” he asks in a voice low enough for the photographer not to hear.

“You’re freakin’ insane,” I say in the same tone.

“By this time next year, I’ll be Lieutenant Governor of Georgia. I’ll send you peaches.” There’s an ambitious gleam in his eye, one I’ve seen in Daddy’s.

At his bizarre words, I laugh. The camera snaps a series of pictures.

“
That’s
the money shot. Ms. Abbott-Renou, you and your brother are going on the front cover,” the photographer says.

Joseph planned all of this. I know it. Unlike Molly’s cold calculations or Daddy’s pure power, Joseph has a way about him that makes me not want to hate him, even though he’s using me like everyone else does. Ari always said Joseph was charismatic. I never understood that word until now.

“Good game, sis,” Joseph says.

“Yeah, well, you shoot like a girl!” I snap.

The photographer laughs, and so does Joseph. The butler leads the three away. I turn to glare at Joseph.

“What if I didn’t come down and play?” I ask him.

“My dear little sister,” he says. He slings his arm around my shoulders again and walks me towards the house. “In politics, there are sheep and there are wolves. Sheep are usually pretty predictable. You know which one you are?”

“Jackass?” I ask innocently.

He chuckles. “Both have hooves.”

I roll my eyes at him.

“You know which one I am?” he continues, the arrogance back in his voice.