Part 13 (1/2)
”Frustrating, isn't it?” Stone asked, reminding her again that it was much more than miles that stood between them. ”Sometimes you have to wait for people to tell you things. Even when what you really want to do is wring it out of them.”
17.
TWO DAYS BEFORE Thanksgiving, Vivien, unlike Shelby, awoke to the blare of Shelby's alarm clock. Pulling on an old robe of Trip's decorated with cowboy boots and lariats that she'd found in the back of her closet, she pushed her feet into a pair of ancient slippers and rooted around in the back of her closet for the pot and spoon she'd hidden there. Her eyes popped fully open when she realized they were gone.
In Shelby's room, Vivi crossed her arms in front of her chest and considered the sleeping teenager. ”Verrry tricky,” she said to the tip of Shelby's nose, which was practically all that stuck out from beneath the covers. ”But not tricky enough.” After a check of both closets, Shelby's laundry basket, and a pile of dirty clothes that Vivien had to hold her own nose to get close to, she was forced to acknowledge that Shelby had done a better job of hiding the ejection device than Vivi had.
Still, there was a mission to accomplish. With a flick, she silenced the alarm clock so that she could think. In the resulting quiet she could hear Shelby breathing, the sound of Trip's shower and Melanie in the kitchen below. Unwilling to resort to brute force, she scanned the bedroom for a new means of ejection. Her gaze landed on a long discarded New Year's Eve party hat. The feather in its crown drooped beneath a heavy layer of dust. Smiling evilly, Vivien applied it to the tip of Shelby's nose.
”Aaaaaacchhhhooooo!” The force of the sneeze jack-knifed Shelby's body upward into a sitting position. The second sneeze forced her eyes open.
”Bless you.” Vivi hid the feathered hat behind her back. ”And good morning! Time to rise and s.h.i.+ne!” Knowing just how annoyed Shelby was by perkiness of any kind, Vivien laid it on thick. ”Today is the first day of the rest of your life!”
Shelby sneezed in response.
”We're running a little behind this morning, so you might want to get moving.” Vivien smiled as she said this, then broke into an ultraperky rendition of ”Tomorrow” from Annie. She'd barely belted out ”The sun'll come up . . . tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar . . .” when Shelby threw off her covers and climbed out of bed. ”How much would it take to get you to go home?” she growled. ”I'll get a job to pay for it. Just tell me how much!”
Vivien laughed, but she didn't move. She'd learned the hard way not to leave the room until Shelby did. On Monday Shelby had doubled back, gotten into bed, and fallen back asleep. By the time Melanie got her to school, Shelby had missed her first two cla.s.ses.
Vivien let herself enjoy today's victory. She was still smiling with satisfaction when she reached the kitchen. The look on Melanie's face wiped the smile from her lips. ”What?” she asked, moving toward the kitchen counter where Melanie stood, a section of newspaper clutched in her hands. ”What is it?”
”It's not that bad,” Melanie said tentatively. ”It's just kind of . . . b.i.t.c.hy. Not really damaging or anything.”
Vivien held out her hand for the paper.
”It doesn't even mention you by name,” Melanie said. ”Hardly anybody will know it's about you.” She handed Vivien the section of the Atlanta Journal-Const.i.tution, which was neatly folded open to Just Peachy, by Matthew Glazer.
The lead sentence jolted Vivien completely and irretrievably awake.
What investigative journalist from Atlanta's uber-connected political family has lost her network gig? she read.
Oh, s.h.i.+t.
It has come to Just Peachy's attention that one of our own is back from her stint with CIN with her tail tucked firmly between her legs. Although the former investigative journalist claims to have quit to pursue other opportunities, this reporter did not just fall off the turnip truck and knows that no sane journalist would willingly give up such a position.
Sources here say she's just home to recuperate from the wound she received when she screwed up her last a.s.signment. But New York folk say differently. Stay tuned for more as Just Peachy investigates.
”Oh, Lord.” Vivien dropped the column on the counter and slid onto the barstool. ”Glazer thinks he's got some real story here; he won't rest until he makes me the laughingstock of the journalism world.” Not that her appearance on YouTube hadn't already achieved this.
Melanie pushed a cup of tea and a croissant toward her. ”Don't worry about it, Vivi. No one cares why you left CIN. And I know when you're ready to do something else, you will.”
Melanie's faith in her made Vivien feel even guiltier about using her sister's life as fodder for a column she was too embarra.s.sed to put her name on. Not to mention her plans to look into J.J.'s death. ”What is the circulation of the AJC, anyway?”
”Oh, I don't know,” Melanie hedged. ”A quarter of a million? Maybe a little more?”
Vivien closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.
”But probably only about half of those know our family well enough to have any idea who he was talking about.”
Vivien was still processing this when Melanie went to the back stairs and shouted up. ”Hurry up, guys! You're going to miss the bus and I don't have time to drive you to school.”
Trip pounded down the back stairs into the kitchen.
”Just grab a breakfast bar or something,” Melanie said to her son. ”I can get you to the bus but I can't drive you to school today.”
Vivien looked up, noticing for the first time that Melanie was fully dressed and made-up. ”Where are you going?”
”I've got an eight A.M. doctor's appointment. I'm going to have to run in a few minutes.” Melanie poured Trip a gla.s.s of milk, then walked back over to the bottom of the stairs. ”Shelby!” she shouted up again. ”Get down here!”
Melanie got her things together and began to pace the kitchen floor. ”That girl! If I don't leave right this minute, I won't even be able to get Trip to the bus. And I asked for this early appointment because it's the only time you don't end up waiting for an hour to be seen.”
Vivien looked more closely at Melanie, who looked ready to hyperventilate. ”Go on, Mel,” she said. ”Drop Trip at the bus stop on your way. I'll get Shelby to school.”
”But she'll be late again, she'll have another tardy, she'll lose her incentives, she'll . . .”
”Melanie, stop it!” Vivien grabbed her sister by the shoulders and forced her to stop pacing. ”Trip, go with your mother.” He looked up at her surprised by the note of command in her voice. ”Now.”
The boy picked up his backpack. Rummaging through the piles of stuff on the counter, Vivien located Melanie's keys and placed them in her palm. ”Go. Stop worrying. I'll get her there as fast as I can, but she's going to have to learn the consequences of her actions, Mel. If all those things you're worrying about happen, then you'll just have to let Shelby deal with it.”
Melanie looked stricken, ”But the bell is at eight fifteen and . . .”
”Just go.” She closed Melanie's fingers around the keys then located her purse and slung it over Melanie's shoulder. ”Really.”
Melanie and Trip raced out the door at seven forty-five. Shortly before eight A.M. Shelby strolled down the stairs in a black corduroy skirt that barely covered her rear end and a low-cut sweater that she'd failed to put anything under. She seemed surprised not to see her mother or brother.
”Where's Mom and Trip?”
”Your mother dropped Trip at the bus. She had an early doctor's appointment. But I believe she mentioned that to you.”
Shelby shrugged as if it was of no concern to her. ”What's for breakfast?”
”Whatever you get for yourself after you go up and change.”
”There's no time to change.” She took in the cowboy robe and slippers, Vivien's lack of makeup. ”How am I supposed to get to school?”
It was Vivien's turn to shrug.
”But I'm going to be late. And I'm hungry.”
They glared at each other for a long moment.
”Fine, I'll just drive myself,” Shelby declared, storming toward the hook where the spare keys were kept.
As she pa.s.sed, Vivien held up her hand, from which Shelby's keys dangled. ”Not an option,” she said.