Mom thinks it’s best to keep up. The board wants to keep things as they are and would rather burn with the ship than steer it in a new direction. But that’s men, my mother always says. They’d rather die than admit a woman has a better idea.
But would they kill someone to stop it?That’s a question I’ve never asked. I swallow the tight lump of fear.
“Well, I need my right-hand woman to convince these dinosaurs,” she jokes, and I force a short laugh.
Focus. Don’t be weird.
“Your right-hand woman went ahead and ate her own foot in front of millions of people. I’m not sure anyone will listen to me right now.”
“Don’t be silly. The board loves you.” I’m beginning to think they don’t.
“The public does not. And you have Lisa,” I say. No one knows more about my mom and her company than her assistant. Since Lisa’s own mom had died years ago after a long battle with cancer, Mama took her under her wing to help Lisa rebuild her life.
She sighs again, which is how she processes information.
“All that matters right now is the board and convincing them this is the right thing to do for the label. We need more new talent and streams of revenue in here. They keep saying do more of what we’re already doing. I’m going mad. Now the press has it in their heads that my past directly reflects my abilities. That my failure as a wife somehow means I’ll fail at running a label.”
“Dad cheated onyou,” I state with sharpness in my voice.
I fight through nausea and sit up in my small bed, taking slow breaths. My dad always hated the life my mom was building, and I’m pretty sure that they’d have gotten divorced decades ago if I hadn’t come along. I cross my legs and stare out at the swaying forest—sturdy and rooted, unlike my family. Unlike my nerves.
“This is true. But society has decided that he cheated on me because I was a terrible wife. If I were there for him and satisfied him, he’d have never needed to stray.” She makes a gagging noise.
“That’s fucked up,” I mutter, stroking my belly with my fingertips until Figgy gets jealous and nudges his way under my palm. “How’s Dru?”
“I’m good,” her voice rings out, and I can imagine them both sitting at Mom’s expansive kitchen island, hovering over the phone. My steady, patient sister is waiting for Mom to vent it all out. Mom is a great mom. I love her, and she loves us, but she’s a woman who is used to being at the centre of attention, and when things aren’t about her, she loses interest pretty fast.
“How’s your arm? Did you get the cast off?” I ask, a pang of guilt cutting through me.
The best thing for you to do, Princess, is disappear. A burden and a liability. That’s what you’re becoming. If you want to keep them safe, you’ll do as I say.
I shudder at the memory. The words in that first note burned into my soul.
People on the internet suck, but it’s terrifying when they come for you in real life.
“Yeah, a couple of weeks ago. I am doing some physical therapy now. How’s the road? Where are you now?” Dru echoes through the speaker, her voice a balm to my nerves.
She’s always been that for me. The tough one. I idolized her as a kid, and after my diagnosis, she and Dad were the ones who took care of me. She often feels more maternal than my own mother. Being nine years older does that, I guess.
“I’m in Canada. I might stay here for a bit—it’s gorgeous.” My cheeks flare, and I’m so glad this isn’t a video chat. Dru would see through my bullshit in a fraction of a second.
“Are we still not allowed to tell anyone where you are?” Dru laughs, tipping into her condescending tone. The one she gets when she thinks I’m immature. “You’re still missing?” she saysmissingwith a touch of sarcasm.
“Yeah,” I respond, my heart stuttering because I’m too close to spilling my guts. I ache to tell her the truth.
I thought I could take care of myself, and it turns out I can’t, and I’m stuck. I’m scared, and I need you.But I can’t say any of that.
Instead, I settle on, “They don’t need to know where I am.”
“I don’t reckon buying a tricked-out Benz and driving to Alaska when you get your feelings hurt will help yourI’m not a spoiled rich girlcase any.” Dru’s voice dips into a drawl that she’s usually good at hiding. There’s a pang of deep pain in her tone. She’s joking, but the words are still true.
"Nah, probably not,” I say softly before pressing my mouth shut.
My chin trembles. There’s a long silence that stretches the distance between us, and I fight back the tears with a deep breath and a sharp sniff.
“What’s wrong, Nova?” Dru asks. “Is something up?”
Even over the phone, it’s obvious when I’m hiding something. Dru fought hard when I said I was leaving. She argued that travelling on my own was a terrible idea with my condition.