Chapter 7-Goodnight
"You're taking her to family dinner?" Kate asked for the fifth time, furrowing her brows in genuine disbelief.
You couldn't blame her. Spencer didn't take anyone to family dinner. She said it was too dirty, too messy, to socially complicated. See, Spencer's family was a portrait of human dysfunction—They were insane. But not in the conventional way, not according to any definition of the word you would find in the common household dictionary. No, the dysfunction of the Carlin's was so much more intricate than that. It was personified in the way they talked, in the way they laughed, in the way the carried on with their fucked up privileged lives with no concern for one another, only caring that they were ahead in the race, beating the other in the dead sprint towards nothing at all. It was a game. One that Spencer, to all of their dismay, played best.
"Is my last answer still valid or would you like me to repeat myself again?" Spencer replied irritably as she combed her way through her walk-in closet.
She wanted something hot, but classy. Sexual, but not entirely promiscuous. After all, with her luck she'd probably be sitting across from her grandfather. No sense in making a forced affair anymore complicated than it already was.
"I'm just…" Kate struggled to find the right word, one which would express her unabashed wonderment while not threatening whatever train of thought had spawned Spencer's impromptu date with her cousin, "intrigued? She tried, verbally testing the weight of the word and the connotations it carried.
"It's not a big deal," Spencer groaned distractedly, "Just family dinner."
"Besides," She continued, some semblance of a smirk on her face, "if she can hold her own with me, I'm sure she can handle Paula."
The glint in her eye as she admitted this was miniscule, if even there at all. However, after thirteen years of friendship, you learn to catch these things, and catch Kate did. But she let it go. She was smarter than that. Kate could see the beginnings of Spencer's changing, the small molecule of a beginning. And it was for the better.
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"So, there are probably some things you should know about my family," Spencer said seriously as she put the car in reverse, backing out of Kate's driveway.
Ashley was nervous—Incredibly nervous. For some reason, she didn't imagine the Carlin clan to be welcoming hosts, this notion perhaps a by-product of her experience with their youngest, most volatile, offspring.
"First, there's grandmother: She's the cute little old lady in pearls, probably wearing a seersucker dress. She's also the only woman in the family who's not a bitch, so be nice to her," Spencer said firmly, in her seriousness missing the expression of fond approval Ashley was giving her, "Then there is Poppy, or grandpa," She continued, "He's the equally cute little old man who will be on grandmother's arm," Spencer smiled, slowing down to a stop at the first red light.
"Next we have Glen and Clay, my asshole brothers. Well, Glen's an asshole," Spencer reconsidered, "Clay's just a push over. But beware of Glen—He'll probably try to hit on you—"
"Is he cute?"
Spencer turned her head slightly, the single most disgusted look plastered to her usually, in Ashley's opinion, gorgeous face.
"Kidding," Ashley said slowly, noting the tenseness in Spencer's arms. It looked like she wasn't the only one nervous tonight.
"Then there's Arthur, my dad. He used to be a social worker till he realized that Wall Street was paved with billions. In other words, he may seem easy to talk to, but he's actually just a sleazy bastard like everybody else."
"Endearing family," Ashley remarked sarcastically, "I see where you get your charm"
"Please," Spencer laughed, "We haven't even gotten to my mother."
"And what's her story?" Ashley asked curiously, sensing she'd probably want to hear whatever it was Spencer had to say.
"She's a…" Spencer combed her extensive vocabulary searching for the perfect word, instead settling for the simplest, "character," She finished, pulling into the long driveway of a large white colonial mansion. Past the plush curtains that lined the interior of the windows, she could make out her father and mother.
"They look normal," Ashley commented, inspecting the scene.
"You should know," Spencer replied.
"Looks can be deceiving," they said in unison, a small smile on both their faces.
"You ready?" Spencer asked, releasing the breath she didn't know she was holding.
"Does it matter?" Ashley teased.
"Nope."
And they were out of the car, walking slowly, as if they were solemn soldiers heading for war, to the front door of the Carlin estate.
"Hey, Ashley?" Spencer asked as she reached out to ring the doorbell.
"Yeah?"
"Did you, perchance, take any acting classes in high school?"
"A couple. Why?" Ashley asked inquisitively as the front door swung open, revealing a sardonically beaming Paula and Arthur.
"Oh, sweetheart," Arthur said gaily, "We're so glad you could make it," he finished, wrapping Spencer in his flimsy excuse for a hug.
"And you must be Ashley," Paula drawled, extending her hand, "It's so nice to finally meet Spencer's girlfriend," She finished ushering the two through the door.
Spencer laced her warm fingers through Ashley's soft ones, genuinely enjoying the touch of surprise evident in the other girls features, "You might need them tonight," she whispered as Paula and Arthur moved farther along, instructing the maid to fetch the drinks.
"Come on," Spencer laughed, raising her voice as she dragged Ashley along, "Let me give you a tour of the house, sweetheart."
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Ashley had seen Spencer's childhood play room, her pool, all six tennis courts, the golf course doubling as her backyard as well as the steam and sauna located on the ground floor. She was exhausted, but also intrigued. Spencer hadn't let go of her hand once. In all honesty, she couldn't condemn the girl for her little white lie—Truth be told, she probably would've done the same, if only to inconvenience her straitlaced mother and garner attention from her distant father. Still, there was something to be said for the Carlin's and as she and rest of Spencer's family made their way to the dining room table, she could feel tension increase tenfold.
The lineup went as follows: At the two heads of the table, from left to right, were Paula and Arthur respectively. Glen and his wife, who had earlier been introduced as Susan, made camp next to Arthur, Clay and his girlfriend, who Ashley knew to be Chelsea, took up Arthur's side, leaving Grandmother, Poppy, Spencer, and Ashley to fend for themselves against Paula.
"Shall we say grace." Paula said coolly, extending a hand to both Spencer and Poppy who made up her left and right. It wasn't a question—It was never a question.
"Father," Paula began, closing her eyes as the rest of table followed suit, "we thank you for all your blessings,"
Spencer nudged Ashley lightly, eliciting a grin out of the other girl as rolled her eyes sarcastically towards Paula, already bored with Paula's prayer.
It's weird Ashley thought, never taking her eyes of Spencer even when the other girl's closed, She seems almost…human.
"Mother," Spencer said sweetly, interrupting Paula's lengthy grace, "I don't think God would appreciate your letting our meal get cold—"
"Like your heart?" Glen chimed in, smugly self satisfied.
"No," Spencer said calmly, never missing a beat, "Like your marriage."
Even amongst the small table of ten, there was an audible grumble—Spencer was good. She always had been.
"Kids," Arthur cut in tiredly, a small smile on his face, "not until the appetizers come out."
Glen smiled sweetly at his younger sister, "Of course."
Spencer parried smoothly, "Can't wait."
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The appetizers went and came with only one small spat between Arthur and Paula, the latter deciding it was far more worth her time to, instead of partaking in the fucked up interactions of her family, to conversate Ashley.
In truth, Spencer wasn't worried. And she didn't have to be. Ashley held her own commendably, even Paula was impressed. The girl was quick, no doubt, and smart, a fact that was increasingly becoming clear to the rest of the Carlin's.
"So," Poppy asked enthusiastically, working at his steak with incredible vigor for someone his age, "How did you two meet?"
Spencer looked at Ashley who was grinning, signaling her to take the floor.
"Well," Spencer began, "Ashley is Kate Fitzpatrick's cousin," she said smoothly, motioning for Ashley to continue.
It was a game. Ashley was beginning to understand that.
"I came up for the weekend," Ashley continued, giggling, as if smitten, in Spencer's direction.
"We went on a few dates,"
"And I guess we just," Ashley said slowly, lacing their fingers on top of the table where everyone could see them, "hit it off."
The reactions from their audience differed.
Poppy, who had originally asked the question, cooed, along with his wife, sick with nostalgia over the blooming romance.
Glen gagged on his string beans, earning him a swift smack on the back from Susan who feared he was choking.
Clay looked on, like his father, with indifference, glancing at this Rolex to see how much more of this fucking family torture he had to endure while Paula just watched them sweetly, too sweetly for Spencer's tastes.
"Isn't that charming?" Paula replied, wiping at the corner's of her mouth with a crisp white napkin, "And I take it you two are serious?" She continued, very much interested.
Spencer could see the gambit Paula was hoping they'd produce and was on the cusp of closing it when Ashley opened her mouth first, "As serious as Mike Tyson was when he bit off Evander Holyfield's ear."
There was an awkward stretch of silence.
"Yeah," Spencer chimed in cheerfully, not allowing her family to have the upper hand, "we're that serious."
The rest of the table laughed out of necessity, in search of normalcy.
"Well," Paula began, "I must say, I find that admirable—I mean, considering Spencer's past."
Ashley's smiled tightened—She hadn't seen that coming.
"Mother," Spencer warned, not willing to let her mother venture into whatever territory she was eyeing so enthusiastically.
"No, no, dear. I'm being honest," Fat chance, "I think it's commendable that a woman of Ashley's caliber could look past a quite epic, Spencer's words, not mine, series of one night stands, drug and alcohol problems, not to mention an obscure OCD disorder, and love you regardless," Paula sighed, shuffling a heap of peas onto her fork, "It's actually quite lovelt."
Spencer couldn't sit still anymore—not there. Her mother had crossed an invisible line and she was angry. She was fucking enraged.
"I need a glass of water," Spencer said coolly, getting up from her seat and walking towards the kitchen.
"Oh, please, sit down, sweetheart," Paula said cloyingly, "I'm sure one of the maids can get it."
But Spencer was gone, already headed towards the kitchen where, she was sure, the whole table could view her. Still it was enough of a distance—At least for now.
Spencer was so caught up in her own anger, she didn't feel Ashley slide in behind her, wrapping her arms slowly, teasingly around her waist.
"They're watching," She whispered, burying her face in the crook of her neck.
Spencer understood. Snaking her left arm behind Ashley's head she pulled her, eased her towards her lips, relishing in the softness of what she felt there. It was slow—Too slow—Painstakingly slow. But it was beautiful. And for a second, both girls forgot they were putting on a show, forgot they were anywhere but there, in that moment, with each other, because what else could they do? What else could they think as pink tongues darted out cautiously, cowardly exploring the other's lips, sheepishly venturing into the contours of the other's mouth. Minutes passed though they seemed like the cruelest shortest seconds before Ashley pulled away, out of breath and exhausted from her head to her toes. In the moments during which Spencer regained consciousness, she marked Ashley's bruised lips, and felt the numb tingling sensation coursing through her own. They could've stood like that, pressed together impossibly close in the kitchen of the Carlin mansion had they not been so rudely interrupted, so irritably shaken out of their stupor.
"Dinner's over."
It was Paula. And she was not pleased.
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"Dinner was good," Ashley said slowly, surprised by the shallowness of her voice. Spencer had just pulled up in front of Kate's house, marking the end of their unconventional, to say the least, date.
"It was…" Spencer said slowly, staring out the window aimlessly, hopelessly.
"Sp—"
"I think you're trying to kill me," Spencer said quietly, the honesty leaking off her voice making even Ashley uncomfortable.
She didn't know what to say. For the first time in what seemed like years, Ashley Davies was rendered speechless. The concentration of emotions swimming around in Spencer's Range Rover were at an all time high, drowning both girls out, making it near impossible to breathe.
Ashley didn't know what to say, and she didn't have to.
Spencer said it for her, "Goodnight."
PHEWWWW. Here she is—ch.7. I hope you enjoy it. I, myself, have a lot of love for this bad boy just because I stayed up until 3 in the morning writing it. ON THAT NOTE, please leave me some feedback
As always, thanks so much for reading.
