Crazy Bitch (Bitches and Queens) (23 page)

“I know,” Kate agreed. “But I’ve
just been so worried that if she threw any scrap of attention his way, he would
leap without thinking.”

Willow glanced at the pair of
dancing queens. She really couldn’t stand him. He was such a smug bastard. All
night long whenever Hannah and Kate weren’t looking his way, he shot nasty
looks her way, but before she could respond, he was back to his snarky,
charming self. Kate really could do so much better than him, but she was
miserable and Willow could commiserate.

“Hasn’t he ever told you the
truth about them?” Willow asked.

“The truth?” Kate questioned
warily. At this point, she was reasonably certain she didn’t want to know the
truth. Although he had denied it on multiple occasions, all signs seemed to
indicate that they had once shared a grand passion. Probably, first love. The
thought made her sick.

“How old was Sam when his
biological mother died?” Willow inquired.

“He was seven. Why? What does
that have to do with them?”

“Does he strike you as a man
who wasn’t raised with a womanly influence?”

“Maybe,” Kate shrugged. “All
right, no, but I still don’t understand what you’re trying to imply.”

Willow’s face softened. “Hannah
has taken care of Sam for years. For all intent and purposes, she is his mommy.”

Kate gasped, flabbergasted.
Whatever she had been expecting to hear, this clearly was not it. When she
started to deny it, Willow interrupted, “Look, I don’t understand it either,
but it has worked for them. It’s one of the main reasons Sam can’t stand me and
why Hannah never liked you. In their eyes, no one will ever be good enough for
the other. And it is also why Sam has been so miserable. Imagine if your mother
or father suddenly came down with dementia and no longer remembered you.”

Although it seemed so
contradictory given their somewhat sordid history, everything felt like it made
perfect sense for the first time in many months. Hannah was his
mommy.
That is why Sam refused to walk away no matter what she said or did. He always
forgave Hannah anything.

Kate felt as if huge weight had
been taken off her shoulders. Bursting with newfound lightless, she could
finally see past herself and her miserable insecurities. When she noticed just
how lifeless Willow had grown in just a few weeks, she felt ashamed that she
hadn’t seen it earlier. Willow reminded her of someone, but whom? Kate
considered it for a few moments and then she remembered. Willow reminded Kate
of Francesca, but how was that possible? Hannah wasn’t playing the game
anymore.

“How have you been?” Kate
asked.

“We’ve been great besides
tonight. Hannah has been cooking up a storm, repainting all the rooms in her
house, growing a garden. She has been happier than I have ever seen her,”
Willow answered.

“I didn’t ask about Hannah. I asked
about you,” Kate gently corrected.

“I…” Willow faltered, looking
precariously close to tears. Pushing her hair back behind her ear, she
admitted, “I miss her a lot. How are you supposed to get over someone that you
can’t ever leave?”

“But you can leave anytime you
want,” Kate said.

“I can leave her home, but I
can’t leave her life. She truly believes we are sisters and nothing will
convince her otherwise. I don’t know how to walk away, not considering
everything she has already been through. Severing that bond would destroy her.”

You wouldn’t walk away, not if
you were as tenderhearted and clearly as in love as Willow is,
Kate
thought. The wheels in her head began spinning overtime. Now that she no longer
feared Sam was prepared to end their marriage for another woman, Kate began
seeing everything a little more clearly. She decided to test her new theory. If
Hannah wasn’t playing, she wouldn’t notice, but if she was, Kate wanted her
know she wasn’t the only one in the game. She waited until Hannah glanced their
way before reaching across the table and innocently grabbing Willow’s hand.

Not ten seconds later, Hannah
appeared at the table and said she was tired and ready to go home. Sam had been
right. If anyone deserved to have their brains fried, it was her. If that
really happened, which Kate was beginning to doubt. Tomorrow should be
interesting. Kate intended to corner Hannah when she was alone. At this point,
there was no need to involve Sam, not until she knew for certain. On the off
chance she was wrong, Kate didn’t want to get his hopes up.

On the drive home, Kate was
bursting with so many revelations, but she had to remain coy. Instead of
discussing the fact that Hannah was his
mommy
or that she liked to play
sick, twisted little games, Kate brought up the problem at hand. “Why would
they call her a man?”

“I don’t know,” Sam muttered.
He was just relieved she hadn’t flown off on another lunatic rage. The key to
dealing with Hannah in any state was to take her mind off the issue. Although
she wasn’t usually so easily distracted, those little napkin animals proved
worth their weight in gold. Divert then address. Repeat if necessary. Sam would
have thought her
sister
would have figured that out already. Maybe she
could have if she had more brains than tits? “It could have something to do
with the fact that she has a cock.”

“You know?” Kate huffed.

“When we were kids, she could
pee standing up and quite honestly, her arch was always way better than mine.
It wasn’t that hard to figure out,” Sam shrugged indifferently.

“Why have you never mentioned
this before now? And don’t you dare tell me you forgot,” Kate hissed. Months of
needless fears and insecurities could have been avoided with a few simple
words.

“No, I didn’t forget. It’s just
not something I think about. You know Hannah. She is the girliest woman ever.
And consider who you are having this conversation with. I’m not the kind of
person who thinks a single piece of flesh determines one’s whole gender.”

When they arrived home, Willow
started to go to bed, but Hannah stopped her. “There is something I want to
talk about,” she explained and led her to the couch.

 Once they were seated, instead
of letting go of Willow’s hand, Hannah reached for her other one as well. “I
saw you talking with Kate tonight. And I know this sounds terribly selfish of
me, but it hurt a little. If something is bothering you, I want you tell me. I’m
your sister—not Kate.”

The next day, Kate found Hannah
in the kitchen whisking some cream-colored concoction furiously. Glancing over
her shoulder with a wide smile, Hannah called out, “Hello. Did you come by
yourself or did you bring Sam with you?”

“How did you do that?” Kate
questioned. “When we first came to Sedona, you were thoroughly convinced I was
Sam, but a few simple words set you straight. Yet, you remain confused about
other things. How is that possible?”

“I’m not following you,” Hannah
replied sweetly.

“I think you are,” Kate challenged.
“You are hurting people again.”

Hannah’s hand fell motionless.
Without turning around, she said flatly, “I am making bean dip. It wouldn’t
hurt anyone unless they had an underlying digestive issue.”

“They love you. Only God knows
why, but they do,” Kate spat. “And this is how you return their affection? By playing
games that only you understand?”

“It isn’t a game,” Hannah
declared.

Fed up with her denials, Kate
decided to throw down the gauntlet. “You promised me. You promised you wouldn’t
hurt anyone again. Either you stop this, or I’ll tell them the truth. And it
won’t matter then. You can scream, you can cry, you can make all the threats
you want to, but no one will be around to hear it. Because the only two people
who ever gave a damn about you will be gone.”

Hannah finally turned around
and stared at her with wide-eyed innocence. “You’re wrong,” she whispered.

Just as Kate was beginning to
doubt herself, Hannah’s huge eyes narrowed and a devilish smirk curled her
lips.

“It isn’t a game. I’ve never
been more serious in my life. If you could manage to keep your fucking mouth
shut for two more weeks, no one will get hurt. We’ll all get our happy ending,”
Hannah growled.

“I don’t believe you,” Kate
retorted.

“Then tell me, what do I have
to do to prove it?”

For once, Willow and Sam found
something to agree upon. When Hannah announced she was returning to Paris, they
both tried very adamantly to dissuade her. Of the two, Sam was more vocal, but
Willow was just as insistent.

“If you are determined to go
back to work, come to the studio. We’ll update your portfolio, and you’ll have
no trouble getting a new campaign,” Sam said.

“No,” Hannah declared. “I have
to be seen live. It’s the only way to stop all these ridiculous rumors.”

Although lately she hadn’t been
the best role model for clear and rational thinking, her newest idea was by far
the most preposterous. Hannah hadn’t walked a runway in over a year, and the
press had been relentless and cruel. It had all the trappings of a perfect storm.
Sam thought she had lost her mind, but then remembered she already had. What
could she possibly be thinking? Paris? Really? She was in no condition to do
Paris. It was like going straight from the recovery room to the base of Mount
Everest for a quiet, little Sunday stroll.

The more Sam thought about it, the
more he realized this was exactly something Hannah would do—the old Hannah. In
the past, every time they thought they had her cornered, she always came back
fighting. But the new Hannah, Little Miss Happy Homemaker, didn’t stand a
chance. She would come away bloodied, bruised, and ripped to shreds.

 That was why he convinced Kate
they had to go too. He wasn’t going there to support her. No, he would bring
her still, lifeless soul home because once the crows were finished feasting
upon her, there would very little left. Willow was practically useless. One bad
headline had her falling to pieces. It had to be him. He was all Hannah had
left, and the stupid bitch didn’t even realize it.

Always being a label snob,
Hannah wouldn’t walk for anyone that wasn’t a regular feature in
Vogue.
When
she announced that she was representing Gustuv Christensen, it was just as
surprising as the news that she walking at all. For starters, no one had even
heard of Christensen on this side of the Atlantic. In the ocean of the design
world, Christensen’s wave was more like a ripple. His work was a little too
eclectic, a little too modern, to ever be accepted in the mainstream.

Although she had never
publically committed, when Raymond began dropping several heavy hints that
Hannah might possibly walk for Christensen, what was expected to be at best a
modest showing grew into a standing-room-only event. Media outlets from across
the globe lined the room with cameras and microphones in hand. Celebrities,
socialites, and the fashion world’s elite were all crammed together. They had
all come for one reason alone—to see Hannah Fairbanks once again in all her
glory.

Hannah had been very ambiguous
about the specifics. None of them, Willow, Sam, or Kate, knew for certain what
her role was to be in the show—whether she would be highlighted as the show’s
main attraction or simply a delicious side dish, because Hannah wanted them to
be surprised. But Kate did know that both Willow and Sam would be surprised if
Hannah kept true to her word.

Glancing back and forth between
the two of them, it was hard to tell who was more apprehensive—Willow or Sam.
They both looked like a bundle of nerves, as if they might get sick at any
moment. The wait was killing them, but it was almost over.

Halfway through the show, a well-dressed
gentleman pushed his way through the crowd and found them. “Are you Willow
Mallory?” he inquired politely.

“Yes, I am.”

“Miss Fairbanks asked me to
bring you backstage. She thought you might like a better view,” he explained.

For a moment, Willow looked
unsure. There were so many vultures prowling the packed room, and it could just
be a ploy to get her to talk. Kate squeezed her hand reassuringly and then
said, “You should go. It will be fine.”

“All right,” Willow muttered
and left with him.

A few moments later, a fashionably
attired lady walked up to Sam and said, “Hannah would like to speak to you. If
you could come with me, I’ll take you to her.”

“What is she up to?” Sam
gritted between his teeth to no one in particular. “I’ll be right back,” he
said to Kate and then kissed her on the cheek.

His gut instinct was that
Hannah was backing out. Thank God, if she finally came to her senses, but he
found her sitting in front of a private dressing room table with a makeup
artist who was just finishing up.

“That will be all,” Hannah
commanded and then held her hand out to Sam. Smiling sweetly, she squeezed his
fingers, “I’m so happy you came. Paris is never the same without you.”

“You remember?” Sam questioned,
confused.