On the Mountain (Follow your Bliss #5) (3 page)

Chapter Three

“I can explain.”

“First put on a decent shirt. Or
a corset. If your father saw you—” Disdain and disappointment dripped from her
mother’s painted lips.

Baskia fled to her room and
grabbed a robe from the back of the closet door. Thankfully, there weren’t any
strays from the club in the living room, but London could have anyone in her
room, and there was Pierce. She pressed her finger to his lips.

“Please, don’t say a word,” she
whispered.

“What, are the police here?”

“Worse, my mom.”

“Is she CIA? FBI? Immigration?”

“No, she’s a mother, and right
now I’m in—”

“How old are you?” Pierce asked,
his French accent waking up with the startled look on his face.

“Shh. I’m eighteen. Don’t worry
about that. I’m not supposed to have parties.” She felt thirteen-years old.
“Can you just stay put until I come back?”

Pierce looked annoyed, but leaned
back in bed and rolled over. Unfortunately, London’s room was on the other side
of the apartment so Baskia couldn’t warn her. In a flash of genius, she hastily
typed a text telling her not to come out.

She found her mother in the
kitchen, holding a pink thong at the end of a greasy chopstick. Bottles and
cups covered every surface.

“Explain yourself. Fast.”

“It was, uh. It was a going away
party. Things got a little out of hand. I’m sorry.” Baskia allowed the sticky
lie to peel off her tongue and knew, at least according to her brother, that
honesty and a quick apology usually worked.

“I’m disappointed in you young
lady. I’ll be sending a cleaning service over this afternoon. You are going to
be living in a dorm with supervision. Tell your little friend she has to move
out.” Anne Benedict turned on her heel. “And I’ll see you at dinner this
evening.”

“Shit,” Baskia said as her mother
exited. She had the urge to bang on London’s door and blame it all on her or
call Mellie and just scream. But Baskia knew the latter would meet her with a
reasonable response and apology and the former would just scream back. Instead,
she climbed back in bed and let Pierce swallow her in his arms.

“What’s the matter?” he asked
afterward.

“It’s not you.”

“What is it then?” he asked.

“Are we really going to talk?”
she said, knowing that despite a few nights spent together, there wasn’t much
substance between them, and that was intentional.

He shrugged, folding the pillow
in half behind his head. “We’ve done pretty much everything but talk, so yeah,
why not?”

It was true, his accent was about
as alluring as the thing he did with his tongue, but she wasn’t sure what he
could tell her that would provide insight. Nevertheless, she explained the
situation.

Afterward, he looked thoughtfully
at her. “You know I’m only a few years older than you and wisdom doesn’t come
this early on. Also, my family is overseas, and they don’t give a shit what I
do, at least I don’t think so. But I can see this means a lot to you. I guess
you have two simple choices. Go or don’t go.”

Baskia hung onto the word choice
as she lost herself in Pierce’s lips again, letting the rest of the morning
float away.

Later, while tidying up, London
called to her from her spot on the couch, surrounded by empty bottles and cups,
“Didn’t you say your mom is sending someone over to clean up? Why bother then?”

“I feel guilty.”

“I don’t believe in guilt,” she
said, typing rapidly on her phone. “Is it okay if I just stay here another week
or so? I really don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Baskia sighed. “Nope. Orientation
is Wednesday which means, I’m out of here,” Baskia said. Her gaze trained on an
antique shelf that once belonged to her grandmother. “Hey, did you see where
that crystal—?”

London shrugged and then
disappeared into the bathroom while Baskia looked around for the missing crystal
decanter. Someone must have felt fancy and poured booze into it. If it was
missing, she was in big trouble; her mother was serious about heirlooms,
especially old ones.

A knock sounded on the door, and
she let the cleaning service in, vanishing to her room to get ready for the
dinner that loomed ahead.

A few hours later, London looked
up from a reality TV show highlighting two people arguing in a hot tub. “Well,
don’t you look nice,” she said sarcastically.

“Dinner. Parents. Damage
control,” Baskia said by way of explanation. The blouse and skirt weren’t
something she’d ordinarily wear, if she were on her own terms. She fingered the
string of pearls her mom would appreciate that she’d paired with the outfit;
they’d been her aunt’s gift when she’d graduated high school.

“When will you be back?” London
asked.

“Later,” Baskia said, the reality
of having to deal with her parents and college sinking in.

“Nothing happening at the clubs
tonight, but I was thinking of having a few people over.”

“That’s probably not—”

“I’m just going to order food,
watch a movie, no biggie,” London countered.

Baskia didn’t have the energy to
argue or question the out-of-character, low-key evening. Instead, she grabbed
her purse and went to the awaiting car.

The savory smell of home cooked
food met her nose—her mother only ate in on Sundays and that was with the help
of Dean and Deluca—as she entered the second Manhattan penthouse her parents
owned, this one overlooking Central Park.

“Baskia dear, good to see you,”
Anne said, giving her cheek a kiss as if nothing had happened earlier.

“It smells good,” she said.

In another room, a strident voice
ended a call followed by approaching footsteps.

“Will’s here, and your father
should be along shortly. Let’s just iron out that wrinkle from this morning and
move on, shall we?”

Baskia was relieved there wasn’t
going to be another conversation about the party, but there was no telling when
she’d receive backlash from breaking the rules. Anne was preternaturally
unpleasant and planned for reprisal, like a stealthy General. Tiptoeing around
her was typical.

“Little sister,” Will said,
casually outfitted in a pair of khaki slacks and a polo shirt. He gripped her
in a hug.

“How’s it going?” Baskia asked,
pleased he was there to act as a buffer; he’d caused the most trouble of the
sibling pair—or at least he was the one who got caught.

“Better than alright. I just
finished my summer internship and have a couple days before the semester
starts. I was thinking of heading north early and hitting The Cape for a day or
two. Want in?”

“Tempting, but I’ll be starting
my freshman orientation in just a few days,
right
mother?” Baskia still
hadn’t looked at the information Anne had dropped off that morning. In fact,
she hadn’t noticed where she’d left it. Maybe the cleaning woman moved it.

“We have a Columbia student on
our hands now. Your father will be so proud.”

Will’s phone buzzed with a text.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, excusing himself from the kitchen.

“That’s right. I was so
distracted this morning I forgot to leave the information at the apartment.
It’s on the desk in the study. Why don’t you grab it and give it a look
through. If you have any questions, I’ve spoken with several alumnae and
they’ve informed me about so many wonderful programs and opportunities
available to you.”

Baskia didn’t want to hear more.
She slipped past her brother and his hushed conversation in the hall. Slumping
into the leather chair in the study, she riffled through the prospectus printed
with bold letters spelling out the dignified name of her new university.

Sure, there were photographs of
students wearing smiles that suggested they were having the time of her lives,
but she had no interest in sitting at a desk all day, listening to a lecture in
an auditorium, and studying into the wee hours. It underwhelmed her in a dull,
viscous, hopeless kind of way.

Maybe her mother was right,
perhaps modeling had ruined her. She’d seen much of the world already. Yes, it
was from the comfort of five-star hotels and carefully selected locations, but
she knew there was more out there than the confines of the narrow door her
parents had opened for her.

At the bottom of the pile, she
spied an envelope with a Vermont return address. Curious, she read the note
inside. It was just a bill for plumbing repairs, but it jogged her memory of a
summer, ten years before, when she’d spent a month at her family’s cabin in the
wilds of the green mountain state. She’d felt so free, just her and the lake,
the lightning bugs, and smoldering campfires. Those activities no longer
appealed to her, but the memory felt peaceful and yet spacious, like those long
ago, star-filled nights held so much possibility that was now lost to her.  

Will called, and she hastily
returned to the kitchen. They passed the next hour sipping wine as he discussed
his summer and semester ahead. There was still no sign of William Benedict Jr,
their father, when dinner came off the stove.

A thick line creasing Anne’s
eyebrows formed as the food cooled. “Well, he’s probably hung up at the
office.”

“It’s Sunday. He’s really there
on a Sunday?” Baskia said.

Will cleared his throat. “Let’s
eat.”

As they dug into the sumptuous
meal of baby fingerling potatoes, roast duck, and haricots verts, Anne asked
Baskia what she thought of the material from Columbia.

“I glanced at it. I’ll read it
more carefully tomorrow,” she answered, feeling her grasp on her own life
slipping away faster than ever.

“There is important information
in there. Unfortunately, the preferred classes are filling up—”

“Mom, let’s not bore each other
with that. Baskia, you’ll look at it tomorrow, right?” Will asked, coming to
her aid.

“Of course.” Baskia swallowed
hard. She wasn’t ready. She considered asking Will how he felt about starting
college a few years ago. He’d gone to the same prestigious prep school she did,
before she started modeling full time. It had been intense, and she wondered if
jumping into college right away had felt daunting to him. But she decided to
wait until they were alone. There was no sense in belaboring the subject after
he’d rerouted their mother.

“Fine, but what are you going to
major in?” Anne asked, not yet ready to leave the topic. “You could study law
like your brother, or finance. I was thinking—”

“What about a gap year?” Baskia
blurted, overwhelmed by her mother’s insistence.

“Deferring a semester or even a
year isn’t uncommon. Some people I know find that it helps them pinpoint what
they want to—” Will said helpfully before Anne interrupted.

“I don’t think—” Just then, William
walked in. “Wonderful, you’re home. I’ll get your plate,” Anne said.

William poured a glass of scotch
from a decanter similar to the one missing from the shelf in the apartment. She
noted she’d have to look in London’s room; someone probably left it in there.

“Will. Baskia. Nice to see you
both,” he said, taking a sip.

Will launched into a transcript
of his summer internship while their father nodded approvingly.

Anne returned with his dinner.
After they ate in silence for a few minutes, she started up with Columbia
again. “Isn’t it wonderful? She’ll be in the dormitory, and we’ll be able to
attend all the important events,” Anne said cheerfully. “It’s great that you’ll
be so close.”

“What’s wrong with letting her
stay at the apartment? I always found dorm life stifling. I lived off campus as
soon as possible,” Baskia’s brother said.

 “In the dorm, she’ll be able to
meet her peers. Laundry, meals, and all the other incidentals can be attended
to without distracting her from her studies,” Anne chirped.

“I guess I did meet some of my
best friends in the dorms,” Will said.

Baskia had stopped listening. She
eyed her mother warily, wondering if the secret was safe.

“I was thinking of redecorating
anyway. The apartment is starting to look a little outdated; wouldn’t you say,
Baskia dear?” Anne refilled the wine.

She was thankful her mother
spared the explanation. “Right.” Baskia slid the green beans around on her
plate

Will gave her a sideways look.
“So, you were saying about a gap year. If you could spend it anywhere, where
would you go?” Will asked, but before she could answer, even though she didn’t
have an answer, he started in on a fantasy of his own. “If I had taken a year
off, I would have gone to Australia, roamed through the outback, maybe gone over
to New Zealand…tried surfing—” Wherever that thread of conversation led, like
so many others was lost under the disapproving look of their parents.

Baskia honestly didn’t know where
she’d go or what she’d do, even if given the opportunity to push the start date
for college into the future. The unknowing was what troubled her the most.