I act like I have no idea what he just said and keep my lips pressed tightly together. It’s pretty obvious at this point that nobody in this family is on my side. Back home—at my real home—everybody was. And I was on theirs.
Despite being a colossal fucking asshole, Parrish was right about one thing: we are strangers, and I have a feeling we’ll never be anything more than that.
I don’t expect the limousine. I mean, I really don’t expect it. Yes, I knew Tess and Paul were wealthy, but like, I thought they were upper middle-class wealthy, not like celebrity wealthy or tech mogul wealthy. Or maybe the white stretch limo is just a rental, I don’t know.
Either way, back home, when we need to seat eight people in a car, we drive my grandmother’s navy-blue minivan with the green side door. Someone backed into it once at the mall, and so my grandma used her insurance check to have the door replaced, but didn’t bother with a new paint job. She put the rest of the money into Maxine’s college fund instead.
Somehow, I end up sitting next to Parrish, our legs pressed precariously close together as the car climbs the steep hill behind the house, leading away from the water and toward the small town of Medina. It’s a Seattle suburb, on the opposite shore of Lake Washington, and home to gazillionaires like Bezos and Gates.
It’s pretty much one of the last places on earth I want to be right now, especially wearing a t-shirt that literally says Eat the Rich on it. I pick at the shirt with my fingertips as I glance in Parrish’s direction. He’s wearing a hoodie, so I guess I’m okay on the dress code situation. But still … telling absurdly wealthy people that I think their wealth is scraped off the backs of the poor is not a game I want to play today.
“Did you see the reporters?” Amelia asks, turning around to peer out the rear window of the car. “There were hundreds of them!”
I cringe a little, but she isn’t wrong. Once again, there was a horde of reporters just outside the property gates, cameras rolling, flashes exploding against the blacked-out windows. It’s why I scrambled into the back of the car so quickly and ended up sitting next to Parrish. He barely looks at me, staring down at his phone and typing out angry messages that I can’t read because he angles the screen away from me.
Instead, I lean back and stare down at my own phone, pretending like I’m just as engrossed in it as everyone else. Tess stares at me while pretending she’s doing anything but gazing at me in desperation and wonder, but everyone else in that car, they’re absorbed in phone la-la land the same as Parrish.
I find it a little weird, a little cold and impersonal, but I decide to use it to my advantage.
Tell us what’s going on! We miss you!
I smile at Sally’s text, and then frown again as I scroll through the dozens of pictures that Nevaeh’s posted today. She has a terrible habit of chronicling every single thing she consumes—granola bars, cans of soda, yesterday’s pizza leftovers. Mixed into all of that, there’s a selfie of her and Ryan snuggled up in the hallway together. Apparently, he asked her to be his date to the party and she agreed which sort of pisses me off because she knew I had a crush on him. She also knows you’re never coming back, so it doesn’t matter for shit.
I turn my phone off and stare out the window.
If I were ever curious what the first level of Dante’s hell might look like, well, I’ve found it.
“So, Dakota,” Paul says, drawing my attention away from depressing thoughts and over to his chiseled face. He’s clearly had work done, but probably from another surgeon of his caliber. I’ll admit, he has a strong chin and high cheekbones, masculine without looking Neanderthal. My eyes flick briefly back in Parrish’s direction as I trace the family resemblance in his face.
He notices me looking and then smirks, tapping something out on his phone that I’m very clearly meant to see.
Get lost, Dakota. I don’t do incest.
Bristling, I turn back to Paul. He’s holding Tess’ hand, their fingers curled together in a way that makes me think they really do love each other. That’s good, I guess, considering their home is as warm as an ice cavern, and their kids … Ben and Amelia seem okay. Henry is just super shy. But Kimber? She’s tucked into the corner beside Tess, her own earbuds blasting something so god-awful that it makes Parrish’s music choices from last night seem appealing.
“Are you excited for the interview?” Paul asks, finishing his question as my mind ping pongs around the limo and the million new things I’m supposed to be taking in and observing. I blink at him in confusion as Tess throws a silent, angry couple-look his way, clearly communicating that he wasn’t supposed to be mentioning any such thing.
