A Little Bit Wicked (The Wickeds Read online

  Except maybe her boyfriends.

  Chloe parked on the street, wondering if her mother’s newest boyfriend had already become an ex, didn’t have a vehicle, or was simply late, as she was. The kids had been so enthusiastic during orientation for the Junior/Senior Program, she’d gotten even more excited about the potential for other programs she hoped to initiate, and she’d gotten up early this morning to flesh out ideas. But her mind kept tracking back to Justin showing up out of the blue to dance with her last night, and before she’d realized it, she’d daydreamed away the morning and was running late.

  She climbed from her car, and as she did every time she visited, she took stock of all the things about herself that were different from her mother and from her upbringing. She drove a car that was only four years old and she took good care of it. She always had food in her refrigerator and her pantry, and she’d learned how to cook—thank you, YouTube. As she made her way up the walk, she glanced down at her cute cap-sleeved green top, white shorts, and strappy sandals, none of which were secondhand. Not that she had anything against secondhand clothes. She loved shopping at thrift stores. But she didn’t have to, and that was important to her. She and Serena had lived in ill-fitting secondhand clothes for so many years, not wearing them had been a goal of hers when she was young.

  She climbed the front steps, and her gaze drifted over the narrow patches of dirt and weeds beneath the windows. She couldn’t remember them ever having been planted with flowers or bushes, and she proudly thought about her own bountiful gardens.

  Chloe had always thought her mother simply hadn’t earned enough money to make a happy home. But eventually she’d learned the truth. She’d lived at home during her first two years at community college in order to watch over Serena. But when Serena went away to school, Chloe left as well, to finish her last two years elsewhere. She’d quickly realized how little it took to make a happy home. The absence of feeling neglected had been enough to allow her to relax and enjoy her surroundings, no matter how unimpressive.

  As she stepped onto the porch, the door swung open and Serena exclaimed, “Yay! You’re here!”

  Chloe had never been bubbly and boisterous like Serena. She didn’t know if that was because she’d always had so much responsibility on her shoulders or if it was simply the way she was wired. She had a feeling it was the latter, and she’d always been a little envious of that carefree effervescence and the way it made everything seem lighter and more exciting.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Chloe said as she hugged her sister. “I lost track of time.”

  Serena’s bracelets jangled as she stepped outside. She looked fashionable and pretty in a flowy white top and blue shorts. When they were young, Serena was always trying to find ways to fit in with the girls in school who wore nicer clothes. As a teenager, she’d decided to start her own trend and had drawn all over her jeans. Sure enough, like everything else her brilliant and creative younger sister put her mind to, Serena’s trend-starting dream became reality, and soon all the girls were getting in trouble for writing on their jeans. Except Serena, of course, because their mother never even noticed.

  “Daphne said you and Justin were dirty dancing last night,” Serena said in a hushed tone. “Did you hook up? Is that why you’re late?”

  “I swear the gossip at Bayside is ridiculous. No, we did not hook up. I was working.” A little white lie to keep from getting interrogated about her daydreams wasn’t that bad, was it?

  “Bummer.” Serena pulled Chloe inside and whispered, “Tony hasn’t arrived yet, but Mom swears he’s coming.”

  As Chloe put her purse on the table by the door she noticed a big plastic bag on the floor beneath it. “Is that the luau stuff?”

  “Yes. I told you I wouldn’t let you down. I found the grass skirt and the coconut bra.”

  “Thank you. I’m so excited. I told the girls to dress for a luau. They’re probably thinking I’ll just hand out leis. I think they’ll be surprised at how much I’ve pulled together.” She looked around and said, “Where’s Drake?”

  “Kitchen—”

  “Chloe, sweetheart!” Their mother hustled out of the kitchen wearing skintight cropped jeans, a snug beige tank top with ruffles under her breasts, and sky-high heels. Her blond hair framed her pretty face, and her bangs made her look younger than her fifty-two years.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Mom,” Chloe said as her mother hugged her. “I got tied up with work and lost track of time.”

  Drake walked out of the kitchen looking handsome as ever, pushing his fingers through his wavy dark hair. His eyes moved to Serena, a silent loving message passing between them, before he turned an amused expression to Chloe and said, “Hey, Chloe,” then mouthed, Your mother is wired.

  Their mother had a tendency to get overly dramatic when she was introducing them to a man, as if she could make everything perfect with her bursts of energy. The problem was, Linda Mallery had no concept of how to be a mediocre parent, much less a perfect anything. In her eyes, the idea of perfect was catering to a man’s wishes, everyone else be damned.

  “Let me look at you.” Her mother took her by the shoulders, smiling brightly.

  Chloe never felt like her mother really saw her, no matter how much she pretended to look. Other mothers hung their children’s drawings on the refrigerator and kept family pictures in the living room. Their mother hadn’t done either. When Chloe and Serena were in grade school, Chloe used to hang up Serena’s drawings in her bedroom so Serena would know someone cared. When Chloe was in fifth grade, Drake’s parents, who lived around the corner, had given her an inexpensive camera. It was the biggest gift she’d ever gotten, and she’d treasured it for all she was worth. Their mother had claimed not to have enough money to buy their school pictures—probably because she’d spent it on man-seeking clothes. Chloe began taking pictures of Serena, and when her mother would leave money for them to pick up groceries, Chloe had used a little each time to develop her film. She pinned a special picture each year on the wall by the kitchen calendar. Serena had taken pictures of Chloe, too, and at Serena’s urging, she’d hung up her picture next to her sister’s. That was the year Chloe began making scrapbooks for Serena. When Serena graduated from high school, Chloe had hung a framed picture of her wearing her cap and gown on their mother’s wall in the living room. That summer Chloe found a framed picture of herself hanging beside Serena’s, and she’d thought their mother had finally taken an interest in them. But then she’d found out that Serena had hung it there, which had meant more to her than if her mother had done it, anyway. Their mother had never once mentioned any of the pinned pictures when they were younger, or the framed pictures of their graduations. But still, when Serena got married, Chloe put up a third, and last, picture on their mother’s wall. A picture of her younger sister with her new husband. Maybe it was a passive-aggressive move, but Chloe wanted her mother to see that she hadn’t held Serena back.

  “You are as gorgeous as ever,” their mother exclaimed, pulling Chloe from her thoughts. “Just like your mama! Now, tell me about work. You were doing something the last time we talked, but I can’t remember what it was.”

  Of course you can’t. That would take paying attention to something other than your most recent boyfriend. “I was preparing to pitch a trial for the Junior/Senior Program,” Chloe reminded her. “I just held the first orientation, and the kids are really excited. I’ve worked so—”

  “That’s great!” their mother said as she fluffed the pillows on the couch. “Wait until you meet Tony. I know you’ll love him. Look.” She held out her arm, showing them a cheap silver bracelet. “Isn’t it gorgeous? He gave it to me just because.”

  “Yes, it’s beautiful,” Chloe said. “Where is he? I thought we were having brunch at ten?”

  “Did I say ten? What time is it?” She rushed over to the half-empty bookshelf and pretended to straighten the piles of women’s magazines Chloe was sure dated back ten years.

  “Ten
thirty,” Drake said. “And I’m pretty sure you said ten, too.”

  “Well, he’ll be here. He’s a busy man. Oh, girls, can you peek into the oven? The food should be just about done.” Their mother headed for the stairs and said, “I want to run up and brush my hair real quick.”

  Chloe followed Serena and Drake into the kitchen, where there was a store-bought Bundt cake sitting on the table still in its packaging with a bright orange sale sticker on the top.

  “Sometimes I wonder how she managed to produce us,” Serena said.

  Drake kissed her neck and said, “I thought we’d covered the birds and the bees pretty extensively.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t cover the inadequate trapping of a man,” Chloe said. “Since Mom doesn’t know how to cook, want to make bets about what’s in the oven?”

  Serena opened the oven door, and they groaned at the sight of something indistinguishable in a disposable tinfoil pan. “What is that?”

  “The trash can is filled with empty boxes of frozen breakfasts.” Drake pointed to the trash can. “Maybe she mixed them together.”

  “Like I said, how did she give birth to us?” Serena said. “Even I know how to buy fresh doughnuts.”

  Drake slung an arm around both of them and said, “I don’t care how she managed to do it, but I’m thankful she did. You’re two amazing women, and I’m proud to call you family.”

  “Aw.” As Serena hugged him, the roar of a motorcycle sounded out front.

  Justin? Chloe’s pulse quickened. She barely had time to realize there was no way it could be Justin before the kitchen door flew open and a very large man dressed in head-to-toe black—from the bandanna tied around his head and his dark sunglasses to the studded leather boots on his feet—strode in. He wore a thick silver chain around his neck, and at least two or three days’ worth of salt-and-pepper scruff decorated his neck and jaw.

  “Baby!” he hollered in the husky voice of a smoker as he walked right past the three of them.

  Their mother’s frantic footsteps thundered down the stairs. She appeared in the doorway, squealed like a teenager, and ran into his arms. He lifted her off her feet, grabbing her ass as he kissed her—hard.

  Correction.

  The black-haired Dog the Bounty Hunter practically ate their mother’s face.

  Chloe tried to swallow the bile rising in her throat. She grabbed Serena’s hand and whispered, “Please tell me I won’t be her in twenty years.”

  As she was set down, their mother said, “Tony, I want you to meet my girls, Chloe and Serena,” as beaming and breathless as a new bride.

  Chloe had seen that look on her mother too many times to count, and what was Drake? Chopped liver? Why didn’t she introduce him?

  Tony raked his eyes down Chloe and Serena from their heads to their toes and said, “Baby these aren’t girls. These are fine-ass women. How’s it going? I’m Tony.”

  Drake stepped in front of Chloe and Serena and crossed his arms. “Drake Savage. That’s my wife and my sister-in-law you’re eyeing.”

  “Cool name, dude. Hot wife.”

  Pig. Chloe wondered if he was the type of biker Justin associated with. If he was, she wanted no part of Justin’s world, no matter how romantic last night had been. Though she appreciated Drake’s efforts, she did not need a man to protect her. She stepped around Drake and said, “Are you a Dark Knight?”

  “No way, babe,” Tony said. “I don’t do any of that group bullshit where you have to attend meetings and do community crap. Ride hard and live free, baby. There ain’t no other way.”

  Relief swept through her, bringing with it a jolt of courage to do what she should have been doing all along. “My name is Chloe, not babe or baby, and my sister, Serena, and I would appreciate you not looking at us like we’re pieces of meat.”

  Tony chuckled, and as he turned his attention to the cake on the table, he said, “Hey, I meant no offense.”

  “How about, I’m sorry if I offended you?” Chloe said through gritted teeth.

  He cut himself a piece of cake and said, “Oh, don’t worry, you didn’t.”

  Serena grabbed Chloe’s wrist, a warning glare in her eyes as she mouthed, Let it go.

  Chloe was sure she had smoke coming out of her ears.

  Tony looked at their mother and said, “Get your riding boots on, baby. Everyone’s driving out to Plymouth for a party at Greg’s place.”

  “Oh?” Their mother managed to look a little conflicted as she said, “I thought we’d have brunch.”

  Tony picked up the hunk of cake he’d cut and handed it to her. “Here’s brunch. Eat up and let’s go.” He cut himself another piece and took an enormous bite.

  Their mother’s brow knitted, and Chloe felt like a little girl again, hoping her mother would choose her and Serena over a man. Anger boiled inside her. Why did she think her mother would ever change? More importantly, why did she continue to put up with this?

  “Go,” Chloe seethed. “Serena and I will take care of all this. Just go.”

  Tony slapped their mother’s ass and said, “You heard her. Get a move on, baby.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, girls!” Their mother giggled as she pulled off her heels. Then she ran upstairs, assumedly to get her boots.

  Chloe stepped toward Tony and said, “And you—”

  “Have a good time!” Serena interjected as she grabbed Chloe’s hand and yanked her into the living room, scolding her in a hushed tone. “They’re not worth it. You’ll only feel guilty if you say something.”

  “Guilty my ass.” Chloe shook with anger.

  Drake stood between the kitchen and living room like a bodyguard, arms crossed, his back to the girls as Serena said, “You hate saying mean things. Don’t do it, Chloe. You know you’ll regret it, and not because he doesn’t deserve it, but because you’re better than him.”

  Chloe paced, cursing herself for being there and putting herself through that charade for the umpteenth time.

  “Bye, girls! We’ll do this again soon,” their mother said as she ran down the stairs and through the living room. “I love you!” she called over her shoulder on their way out the kitchen door.

  “What the hell was that?” Drake asked as he strode into the living room.

  Chloe put her hands on her hips and said, “Welcome to the freak show at the Mallery house.”

  “I’m starting to understand why you don’t want to date guys who are rough around the edges,” Serena said.

  Drake pulled her into his arms and said, “That wasn’t just around the edges, Supergirl. The guy was a classless asshole. I don’t want either one of you anywhere near your mother’s boyfriends.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m done being part of her dog and pony show,” Chloe said. “She’ll always pick a man over us, and we don’t need to feel like shit because she’s clingy and pathetic.”

  Drake looked at Serena expectantly.

  “Don’t look at me. I’m not coming back if you and Chloe aren’t.”

  “Good, because I’d hate to have to forbid you,” Drake teased.

  Serena scoffed. “That’d go over real well.” She wrapped her arms around him and said, “What happens when you tell me not to do something?”

  “I know you well, Supergirl. Why do you think I tell you not to get frisky on the nights you’re tired?” He gave Serena a quick kiss and said, “Why don’t I throw that food out and clean up so we can all get out of here.”

  As he headed into the kitchen, Chloe thought about how lucky Serena was, and her thoughts found their way back to Justin. She remembered how he’d gotten a little aggressive by the ladies’ room at the bar and how thrilling it had been. His voice was clear and present in her mind. That was a reminder. You like to pretend you don’t feel anything for me. It’s about time you stopped doing that.

  Last night she’d thought maybe it was time she got past her fear of dating tough guys. But Justin’s parting words repeated in her head—Now, get your sweet little
ass inside so I know you’re safe—warring with the scenes she’d just witnessed. Were Justin’s parting words a tease, like Drake’s, underscored with thoughts of her well-being? Or was it just the tip of the iceberg? A warning flag showing her that if she opened that door, Tony-like behavior might come tumbling out?

  CHLOE HAD BEEN left so raw and confused after what had happened with her mother’s boyfriend, she’d worried that she might be stepping into a lion’s den with Justin. She’d fought the urge Sunday night and throughout the day on Monday to text him and ask how his grandfather was doing. On Monday night, Chloe sat on her living room floor sorting pictures for the wedding album she was making for Harper and Gavin, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that she’d let her friend down. She’d taken dozens of photos of Harper and Gavin with their friends in the weeks leading up to the wedding, and last month when they’d gotten married, she’d taken dozens more.

  She sifted through a few pictures of Gavin and Harper looking so in love she could feel it. As she set them aside, she spotted a picture of Justin, Gavin, and Beckett standing arm in arm and picked that one up instead. It was taken the night of the wedding. Gavin and his brother looked model perfect with their clean-shaven cheeks and pristine suits. But it was Justin who captured her attention, with his scruffy cheeks and tousled hair. His tie was a little crooked, his clothes slightly rumpled. He had one hand in his pocket, the other around Gavin’s shoulder, revealing the leather bracelet he wore. Sometimes he wore other jewelry, but the bracelet was a constant, and she wondered if it was from an ex-girlfriend, or just something he’d picked up for himself. She studied the picture, thinking about that night. Justin had stuck close by her all evening. After most of their friends had turned in for the night, Beckett had invited Chloe to join him at the bar for a drink, and Justin had inserted himself between them for the rest of the night. At the time, he’d said it was because he hadn’t wanted her to become a notch on Beckett’s belt. She’d thought Justin had just been his typical pushy, flirty self, hoping for a one-night stand despite his claim about Beckett. But Justin hadn’t made a move on her that night, just like he hadn’t the night of the storm, when he’d left without so much as a kiss.