Chapter Ninety Five
...
Frieda had taken Ronnie to his shared apartment with the intent of leaving him there. His roommate had been out for the night, so no one had seen Ronnie being practically carried inside by a woman triple his age.
She had stopped short at the mess that littered seemingly every inch of the apartment, her stomach turning. Frieda had tucked Ronnie into bed as his mother had done once, and set about cleaning the apartment, knowing that he would continue to sleep like the proverbial dead even if she started vacuuming by his bed. Frieda had thrown out old pizza boxes, takeaway containers, and even two dishes that were too disgusting to save.
Before leaving the now-clean apartment, Frieda had left a note by Ronnie's bed so he would see it when he woke up.
Dear Ronnie,
You're better than this, act like it.
Frieda
P.S. I'm sorry
The last line had Frieda hesitating, warring with her desire to say more and her desire to cross it out because nothing she said could be enough to express her true feelings. She left the line and the note, and then left the apartment.
Driving home, Frieda's grief had hit her suddenly, a delayed reaction to Ronnie's secrets, and she'd pulled over on the side of the road to bawl her eyes out.
Not feeling any better by the time she was finished, and now with a headache to boot, Frieda headed home slowly. By the time she arrived home, it was closer to midnight than Frieda had seen in some time. Making her way inside, Frieda was glad to hear the sounds of sleep coming from the lounge room, with all of the kids sleeping in a pile around Craig. They each had a limb (and in Heidi's case, a foot) on Craig, and if Frieda didn't know better, she would have thought they were holding him down.
"Please. I'm sorry."
The frightened child-like voice had Frieda stopping short, wondering how a child had made it inside her house. Looking around, she saw the teenagers but no younger children, and frowned.
"I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I won't!"
Frieda focused on the sound this time, her gaze falling on Craig as he trembled and whimpered under his friends.
"I'll be good; I'll be normal!"
"He's been like this for a while. It's almost at the end," Adam said behind her, scaring the shit out of Frieda.
"What are you doing out of bed?" Frieda asked, frowning when she saw his damp hair.
"It was getting gross in that pile, so I had a shower; it's way too hot to sleep anyway."
"You were in there?"
Adam nodded, wrinkling his nose, then sighed when Craig called out again, Grant and Jewel's grips tightening on him automatically in response. "Craig needed me; there's not much I wouldn't do for him," he said, shrugging.
"You're a good friend, Adam," Frieda said with a smile.
"So's Craig. How'd everything go with Ronnie? Donny didn't say much."
"Good. Donny's improved with his skill; he had all of Ronnie's memories of Warren as a super gone in a few minutes. The ones about Dale Coward were harder to deal with."
"He's going to prison," Adam said.
"If Ronnie does what Donny had planned, I truly hope so," Frieda murmured.
Adam shook his head wryly. "It wasn't a question, Frieda. He's going to prison one way or another. Stealing from the church is worse than abusing children, at least in the eyes of the church."
Frieda decided not to ask too many questions. The grandfather clock struck midnight, and she suddenly felt old and weary, like Cinderella's carriage turning back into a pumpkin.
"Go to bed, Frieda. I'll make sure this lot are quiet in the morning for you," Adam promised, smiling.
"Thank you, dear. You go to sleep, too."
Adam nodded. "I will when Craig's nightmare's finished. About five minutes," he added.
"I'll be checking on you all later," Frieda warned, though they both knew it for a lie.
Frieda was changed into pyjamas and fast asleep before Craig's nightmare had finished. Down in the lounge room, Adam stroked Craig's curls back from his forehead and wished he could do more to help his best friend.
...
Connor's eyes narrowed at the name on his phone, but he answered, just in case there was something wrong. "Frieda, is everything okay?"
"Oh, everything's fine, dear. I was just calling to see if you and Victor were awake. Craig wants to come home early and sleep on his bed, and I thought I'd come over and see the twins," Frieda said, sounding far too cheerful.
"I'm not at Victor's," Connor replied.
"You're not? I thought you had a date last night."
"We did. When will you be at Victor's? I can come by to pick up Ry," Connor offered.
"Oh. Yes, that's a good idea. Will you be staying at Victor's then?" Frieda asked.
Connor was silent for a long moment, wondering if Frieda was on Edith's roster of spying neighbours.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm just being a nosy old woman. We'll be at Edith's around 11am, once the small army of children are awake and fed. Craig can sleep here a little longer."
"Okay. Thanks, Frieda. See you then."
"See you then, dear. Take care," Frieda said, ending the call.
"What's wrong?" Victor asked from the lounge, looking over to Connor blearily.
"I think your mother's employed Frieda to keep an eye on us as well," Connor said, shaking his head.
"Mmm, wouldn't surprise me," Victor mumbled, turning and burying his head in the pillow.
Connor supposed he shouldn't be surprised either. He looked to the clock in the kitchen - barely eight o'clock - and smiled at the thought of having Victor to himself for another few hours, Elijah and Elliot in Honey's care with a promise not to tell anyone. "I know I promised to be a perfect gentleman last night, darling, but I was hoping this morning I could break my promise," he said, crossing the room in three long strides.
Victor turned his head, frowning as he looked up at Connor. "Hmm?"
"I plan on kissing you back to consciousness, darling."
Victor's frown turned into a wide smile, and he sat up on the lounge, tugging Connor down beside him.
"Do I take that as a yes, darling?" Connor asked with a laugh, gently manoeuvring Victor onto his lap.
"Yes," Victor replied, wrapping his arms around Connor's neck and kissing him intently.
...
Henry sat on the hotel bed, his head in his hands as he tried to take in deep breaths. Movement behind him caught his attention but he didn't move or acknowledge the noise. A warm hand rested on his shoulder, trailing down his back. It was a sensual movement, designed to tease at his nerve endings and make him want more of the tantalising touch.
"It's all right, it happens to lots of men. Come back to bed, I'll see what my magical hands can do for you," the woman purred, an expert in the art of seduction and, apparently, consolation.
Considering the amount he had paid for the woman, those magic hands had better be real magic, Henry thought to himself, though he knew that nothing she did - magic hands or otherwise - would get his erection back. Modern medicine didn't work, sex toys, cheap or expensive women, it didn't matter. Ever since those goddamn kids had put a vine in his body, he couldn't get it up.
He sighed and let his hands drop from his face. "Just go. There's nothing you can do," Henry muttered.
The woman's eyes widened slightly, then she nodded and stood to gather her clothes and shoes. He had already paid her company via credit card so she didn't bother to wait around for attempt number three, and in a matter of minutes, Henry was alone.
He had a brief thought about his ex-wife cross his mind, and Henry frowned at his own mind. He hadn't thought about her since the divorce had finally been settled - Frieda taking far more of his possessions than he would have liked, but after attempting to argue with his lawyer and somehow offering Frieda even more, Henry had quickly learnt to shut his trap. She'd even got his damn Monet, which was apparently in a museum now.
Frieda had never understood how to keep things to herself, Henry thought derisively. Though maybe she could help him and his little... large problem.
Standing and pulling on a bathrobe, Henry grabbed his phone and opened his emails, looking for an email he'd deleted recently. Scanning the details, he sent an RSVP and started working on a plan.
...
Frieda took a flute of champagne and sipped gently, mostly for appearances. She was lucky and, unfortunately, that meant she was unlucky enough to get a raging hangover if she drank too much. It was a shame, because they had quite nice champagne for this little soirée, Frieda mused. Looking around the room, Frieda saw the usual women and men she had seen over the years, and sighed.
"That was a very involved sigh considering we've only been here for four minutes," Babs said with a grin.
"I was missing the children. It's a shame they all had to work; they always bring life to these sorts of things. I've been to every social gathering Maxville has to offer for almost twenty years, and I'm a little tired of seeing the same faces and hearing the same stories over and over."
Babs looked around the room and conceded with a nod. "Well, how about we liven this up ourselves, dear? Why don't you introduce me to people and I'll tell a different story about how we met for each person?"
Frieda laughed. "I'd never remember the stories."
"That's the point. Now, should I start with a river cruise and crocodiles or - "
"Henry?"
Babs frowned, following Frieda's line of sight to see a man their age walking into the room. She didn't even have to hear the whispers or see the glances between the man and Frieda to realise that it was her ex-husband. Edith and Hyacinth had told her some of the things the man had done to Frieda - some things Frieda still didn't know herself, apparently - and felt the fragile champagne flute cracking in her grip. Forcing herself to hold the flute calmly, Babs looked to her friend, attempting to work out her expression to see if she should leave or stay.
"God, he feels like a complete stranger," Frieda muttered, shaking her head. "Stay, Babs, please. He has nothing to say to me that I want to hear," she added.
"Certainly, dear. Should I knee him in the balls for you? I've had lots of mandatory self-defence lessons over the years," Babs offered, smiling.
Frieda laughed. "Oh, I'm sure I can gather enough energy to do that myself if the need arises, but thank you," she said, smiling back at her.
"Anytime, dear," Babs said with a wink and making Frieda laugh again.
"Hello there, Frieda. You sound like you're having fun. It's so wonderful to hear you laughing," Henry said with a charming smile.
Frieda's laughter cut off abruptly and she turned to face her ex-husband. "I certainly didn't have a reason to laugh in the last ten years, now, did I, Henry?"
Henry clenched his jaw briefly. "You can't blame me for everything, Frieda," he hissed, then straightened up and brushed his shirt off, reminding himself of his plan and the reason why he was at this stupid party.
"Oh, no, you misunderstand me, Henry. I don't blame you. I blame me for staying with you, for waiting while you slept around, for loving you when it was so obvious that you didn't love me. I blame no one but myself for hoping that you would love me again," Frieda said, her voice firm. "I blame you for everything else."
"Why are you even here?" Babs asked curiously, watching and waiting for him to talk again, to gain more information than she already had from Henry's previous smarmy and hissed words.
Henry barely glanced at her, looking to Frieda and putting on the hopeless old man expression that had made her fret and worry over him time and time again. "I want you back, Frieda. I miss you, I miss your cooking, I miss the house and I miss being with you."
Frieda rolled her eyes. "You haven't eaten my cooking in almost two years, Henry. You hate the house and always complain about how much electricity costs when you're the one who wanted all of the damned chandeliers, and you certainly haven't spent enough time with me for over five years to miss me now."
Babs glared at the man. His words spoke of lies and anger, but it was Frieda's words - firm but resigned and dripping with unhappiness at the memories - that made her hate this stranger even more.
She stepped forward and put an arm around Frieda's shoulders. "I don't see why she would want you when she has me," Babs said, raising an eyebrow at Henry's expression.
"You... you're not ... one of those! I'd know," Henry added with a scoff.
Frieda glared at him, knowing just how much those sort of snide throwaway comments hurt people - young or old - when all they wanted was acceptance and love. "You don't know anything about me, Henry." Turning to Babs, Frieda stood on her tiptoes, a question in her gaze.
Babs smiled warmly and leaned down to kiss Frieda firmly. Frieda's arms wrapped around her neck and Babs held her friend to deepen the kiss, delighting in Frieda's surprised and happy gasp against her lips. They were both oblivious to Henry leaving before anyone he knew could see his ex-wife making out with another woman.
A ringing phone had them pulling apart and Babs was surprised to find it wasn't her phone that was ringing, but Frieda's. She couldn't help but think of the last time she'd been kissed like that, back when Bernard had been alive. Refraining from touching her lips, since that would destroy whatever story they decided on for Henry's friends, or the room at large, Babs watched Frieda finish her phone call.
"No, no, Honey, now is... fine. Are you all right, dear?"
"Mum, I know about you and Babs, okay? I completely approve and I'm glad you finally stood up to Dad. Love you."
"I love you too, Honey," Frieda said, feeling something tight unwind in her chest.
"I know. Now, go to the bathroom to clean up. The one on the other side of the building, not the one in there."
Frieda had decided long ago not to question her daughter's decisions or demands. Unless she had to, of course. "Anything else?"
Honey laughed. "Yeah, make sure to lock the door."
Frieda hoped her cheeks weren't burning at Honey's implication, and farewelled her daughter before ending the call. She smiled up at Babs. "Honey says hello, dear. Let's go get cleaned up," Frieda murmured, heading towards the doors.
Babs was beside her in a second, taking her hand and squeezing gently. They were both silent until they were in the bathroom, the door locked behind them once Frieda was certain they were alone.
"Are you all right, dear?" Babs asked, concern in her tone and gaze.
"It's been a while since anyone kissed me like that, so I'm a little overwhelmed," Frieda admitted, pressing a hand to her chest over her rapidly beating heart.
Babs smiled and stepped forward. "I was thinking the same thing myself," she said, taking Frieda's hand and placing it over her own chest, the beat just as wild.
Frieda laughed, incredulous and surprised. "We're too old for this, aren't we?"
"Of course not. We're old enough to do what we want," Babs replied, grinning.
"I want to touch my toes, but my body won't let me."
"I'm more than happy to work with you on your flexibility, dear," Babs said, her eyes bright.
Frieda laughed and Babs smiled, loving the sound.
"Are you sure you want this? Me?" Frieda asked, frowning at the wrinkles on her hands, knowing how much Henry hated the signs of age and life anywhere on her body.
Babs took her hands and kissed the back of them. "I'm positive, dear. Are you sure you want me or was it just the endorphins talking after our kiss?"
Frieda smiled. "I'm old enough to know what I want, Babs. Even if I've never had it before," she admitted, a blush showing behind her makeup.
"It would be my pleasure to show you everything you've been missing out on, dear Frieda," Babs said, kissing her gently.
"We're not starting here, are we?" Frieda asked as Babs stroked her sides.
"Well, they do have very comfortable chaise lounges, and this is one of the nicer-smelling bathrooms I've been in. But no, I think we both deserve a bed."
"Oh, thank God. I wouldn't want to explain this to an emergency medic."
"Saw my ex-husband, revenge fucked my best friend, and slipped a disc on the bathroom chaise."
Frieda laughed at Babs' immediate response. "Oh, God. That would definitely liven this party up."
Babs grinned and kissed the back of her hand. "Frieda, dear, I believe we've already done that."
...
"Good evening, Westville. This is Tasha reporting for Westville's Evening News. Tonight's story is an exclusive interview with Airborne," Tasha said, smiling broadly. "And his hero support," she added with a briefer smile. "We go into all the details of what it's like living with Jetstream and the Commander and growing up with such famous parents. Stay tuned for the interview after this short break."
Tasha's smile remained firmly in place until the light turned off, indicating that they were no longer recording. She looked over to Roger, a little nervous since it was her first anchor role, and he gave her a thumbs up and a broad grin.
"Ratings are looking good; already higher than Maxville's News Tonight. Breaking from commercial early; we'll add another one later for the bathroom break slot," the floor manager called out.
Tasha smiled immediately, even though they wouldn't be on air for another three seconds; she wanted this to be perfect.
"Welcome back, Westville. The exclusive interview with Airborne, Westville's very own Hero, and his hero support, will be airing now," Tasha said, turning her attention to the left where the TV screen appeared with her on an armchair, sitting across from Airborne and Shifter.
"Good evening, Airborne. How are you today?"
"I'm really great, Tasha. How are you?"
"Well, thank you. I just have to say that personally, I love your work as a Hero. You've saved the citizens of Westville from earthquakes, and helped your parents against Villainess," Tasha said, smiling briefly and noting Shifter's stiffened posture at the supervillainess' name. "Were your parents the ones who inspired you to take up the mask?"
"Well, yeah. It's the family business, y'know, so it's kinda expected."
"Jetstream really inspired me," Shifter interrupted, smiling.
"Of course she did. I see you're still wearing one of Jetstream's older designs from the 80s," Tasha said.
"It was really nice of Jetstream to loan it to me until I can get my own suit designed," Shifter said, though her face was turning an embarrassed shade of purple at Tasha's words.
"Now, Airborne, onto the heavy stuff: what was it like growing up with Jetstream and the Commander?"
"It was easy when I was a kid, y'know, 'cause I didn't have any idea who my parents were or what they did. When I was older, it was more difficult, 'cause I didn't have any powers and I was, like, living with the two greatest superheroes in the world. It was a lot of pressure for a kid.
"Still, they're really great parents. Mum sometimes picks up pizza on her way back from dealing with the Ambassador in Rome, which is awesome."
"They sound great, Airborne. You're very lucky to have parents like that. Though, it sounds hard, dealing with that sort of pressure and stress," Tasha said, leaning forward to squeeze Will's hand in sympathy and give him a clear view down her shirt, Shifter turning a darker shade of red-purple as Airborne's gaze went straight where Tasha wanted.
"It was hard, I guess. When I was younger, my friends didn't come over often, 'cause, y'know, my parents would have to leave in the middle of the night to defeat Robot Man so they weren't there when Billy had a nightmare and woke up screaming, which set the rest of us kids off. We actually moved to a different part of Maxville because of that; Mum was getting glared at in the supermarket so hard, and since it was Deathstare, that was a pretty hard glare. I was only two, so it wasn't a huge deal," he added when Tasha made a sympathetic noise. "They're really great parents though, really supportive, and... uh, really nice," Will added quickly, wondering what his mother would think of that description.
Super Jesus, he really should've listened more in Communication for Heroes.
She smiled once more, sitting back on her armchair. "Let's talk about your defeat of Royal Pain last year. That must have been such a pivotal moment for you, fighting your first villain."
"Yeah, it really was. There was a lot of adrenaline and punching going on, and it was a team effort - "
"Shifter, you were there, weren't you?" Tasha asked, turning her attention to Airborne's hero support.
"Yes. I chewed the wires to stop the anti-gravity device from being controlled by Royal Pain."
"Yet Sky High still fell from the sky. It was due to your efforts, Airborne, that both Maxville and Westville are here today. The school falling at that velocity would have destroyed Maxville entirely, as well as the surrounding suburbs," Tasha added.
"Really?" Airborne asked in surprise. "Wow, I didn't realise that. I'm really glad I stopped the school from falling, then!"
"We stopped the school from falling. If I hadn't chewed through those wires, you wouldn't have been able to lift the school back into place," Magenta reminded him tersely, forcing herself to smile when she remembered the camera.
"Yeah, of course. That's totally what I meant."
"Of course." There was a brief moment of silence, then Tasha continued. "Now, Airborne, what was it really like living with your parents? Any lows with the highs? What are your parents like outside of the spandex?" Tasha asked curiously, Shifter looking to the camera with a frown.
"They never hit me, so it's not like it was physical abuse. But Dad didn't really listen, y'know? He was only interested in what I was doing after I said I had powers. After that, he bought me a gym set and started talking to me 'man to man' rather than father to son. He's the world's strongest superhero, and I guess that means emotionally, 'cause I've never seen him cry. Not even when his mother died.
"Airborne - " Shifter whispered urgently.
Airborne patted her hand absentmindedly, too caught up in his rant to stop. "My mother's a control freak and my father doesn't do anything unless Mum's agreed to it. I once saw him waiting in the bathroom with his toothbrush and toothpaste, and he didn't brush his teeth until Mum called out to ask if he'd done his teeth yet.
"I suppose it works for them, 'cause Dad's good at following orders and Mum's good at giving them. She wants everything to be perfect. If we can't be the greatest family of superheroes the world has ever seen, then we'll be the greatest family the world has ever seen!" Airborne said in a mocking tone. "That was even more pressure than living and growing up in their shadows; that's basically the reason I lied about having powers for so long: I couldn't bear to ruin Mum's image of our family, and I was too scared to admit it."
"You were scared of your parents?" Tasha asked.
Airborne shrugged. "Yeah, I mean, who isn't scared of their parents at some stage in their lives?"
"Oh, Airborne. Most people aren't scared of their parents," Tasha said, sounding pitying.
"Well, I wasn't scared. But, y'know, scared of disappointing them or upsetting them, stuff like that."
"Of course."
"And we're on an ad break!" the floor manager called, the light turning off above the TelePrompTer.
Tasha stood to get water, her mouth dry. Her cheeks were hurting from smiling so much, too worried to stop smiling in case there was an issue with the cameras and she was on display instead of her interview.
"It's looking great, Tash. Ratings are at an all-time high, and it's all because of you," Roger said with a grin, offering her a glass of water.
Tasha drank the water in a big gulp, then grinned. "Thanks. And it's all because of you, Roger. If you hadn't kept recording when we went off the record to talk about Airborne's parents, we wouldn't have this goldmine airing tonight."
Roger shook his head. "You taught me that, Tash: when you give the stop recording signal, I keep on recording."
"You're the best, Roger."
"I know. Now, don't forget me when you're winning all of the journalist and TV anchor awards. You'll have to see me and the missus before you leave Westville for all the big TV stations that are gonna start calling."
"Back to the interview in five - "
"Gotta go," Tash called over her shoulder, hurrying back to the anchor's desk.
She would leave Westville for the second TV station that called her, Tasha decided. The first would be testing the waters, while the second would be more competitive, once she let them know who else had offered her a position. She could even pit them against each other with the best offer winning.
She didn't regret a thing.
...
Will stared at the TV screen, not comprehending what he'd just seen. Tasha had said it was off the record, she'd promised that no one would know, just the people in that room. His heart hammering in his chest, Will looked over to his parents, who had been so very proud to watch his first official exclusive interview as Airborne.
His mother looked like she was frozen in place, still shocked, and not even noticing the loathed ad for Fruity Oaty Bar on the screen. His father had recovered faster and was staring at Josie as well.
Knowing that the interview was going to get worse, Will stood up slowly, not wanting to bring his mother's attention on him.
"I'm going to go patrol. I'll see the rest of the interview later," Will said, flying out and ignoring his mother behind him.
"Will, get back here!" Josie yelled after her son futilely; Will was already gone.
"Are you all right, Josie?" Steve asked.
"Of course not! Our own son is afraid of us, Steve! It's going to be all over the headlines tomorrow! How can we be the world's greatest family if Will won't even talk to us?!"
"He'll talk to us when he gets home; we'll make him," Steve said, Josie wincing at his choice of words.
The interview continued on the screen.
"They're both kinda elitist, too. I mean, my father says he isn't and doesn't want to be like Granddad, but he still says and does things that are just so awkward, y'know? And Mum never says anything against him, even when she knows he's wrong.
"Like, Grandad was super elitist. He'd say that Hero Support were closer to citizens than supers and shouldn't have the honour of wearing the mask. Mum and Dad put him in retirement so he wouldn't embarrass them anymore. He died alone, like most people who're like that do, I guess."
Even high in the atmosphere, Will felt like he could still hear the interview. It seemed like everyone in the world was watching his interview and the sound of his voice was projected across the globe, dragging his family in the dirt.
Digging in his pocket, he took out Tasha's business card, and used his red phone to dial the number on the back.
"Hello, this is Tasha."
"You lied to me! You promised it was going to be off the record! Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
Tasha looked around and quickly ducked into a hallway while the bathroom break advertisements were running. "I'm so sorry, Airborne. I needed this, I needed to get out of Westville, and this was too perfect to leave on a film roll, gathering dust."
"It shouldn't be on a film roll in the first place!"
Tasha sighed. "I know, Airborne. Please, let me make this up to you. I'll be finished at the studio soon and home by 10pm. Can you meet me there? We'll talk about all of this. No cameras, I promise," she added, giving her home address before he could deny her request.
"Yeah, I know what your promises mean now," Will snapped.
"Please. I mean it," Tasha said, ending the call to return to the anchor's desk.
Will looked at his watch. Nine o'clock. Deciding to go to Rome for pizza, Will flew back down towards the land masses and in the general vicinity of where he knew Rome was.
...
Tasha made her way home on a high. Four TV stations were competing to have her, and Maxville's News Tonight had been the first to call.
Checking her reflection in her compact mirror before opening the door, Tasha smiled broadly despite her aching cheeks, sure that Airborne would be waiting for her. The lights were off, and as she made her way through her small apartment, she found that Airborne definitely wasn't waiting for her in any of the rooms.
Maybe she'd really upset him and he wasn't coming by? Did it really matter now that she had his interview? Tasha thought to herself, trying to quash the disappointed feeling in her chest.
A knock at the window had Tasha startling and she turned to see Airborne hovering there. Her hand pressed to her chest, she unlocked the window and lifted the frame, Airborne making his way inside.
"Explain, Tasha. Wait. Where's your phone?" Airborne asked.
"It's in my bag. You can search me to prove it, if you'd like?" Tasha offered, splaying her arms and bringing Airborne's attention straight to her breasts. His desire was so thick that the air felt full with it and with a grin, Tasha slipped off her underwear, stepping out of the pooled material as she headed over to her bed.
"What are you doing?" Airborne asked in shock.
"I hate that you're upset with me, Airborne. I promised to make it up to you, didn't I?" Tasha asked, unzipping her dress halfway. "Help me get this off?"
Airborne's jaw dropped at the sight and offer. He was just a hormonal teenager and he couldn't resist his hormones. It was biological, Will reasoned with himself.
He was by Tasha's side in an instant, unzipping the rest of her dress and his hands following the bare skin that was revealed.
"Come on, Airborne. Take me," Tasha said with a loud moan, her gaze flicking over to her handbag where her phone was recording everything.
...
"I don't think he's coming, Josie. We'll talk to Will in the morning, okay?" Steve said, guiding his wife upstairs to their bedroom.
Worry gnawed at Josie. Magenta had answered her call stating Will wasn't with her and she was so sorry about the interview but she'd tried to tell Will they were still recording. Josie had eased her fears and asked Magenta to call her if she saw Will that night. She still hadn't received a call, Will had left his phone at home again, and she had no idea where her son was.
Steve assured her that Will would be fine and then her husband was asleep only minutes later. Josie didn't sleep until the early hours, despite having an open house and a fight scheduled the next day.
Was she really that unapproachable? Was her own son actually scared of her?
Beside her, Steve pretended to be asleep, faking a snore so Josie wouldn't see the worry on his face.
Was Will right? Was he really like his father? He had thought he was better than his father or more open-minded, at the very least. Was he an elitist?
Even worse, he didn't do everything Josie told him to do. He could think for his own and do things without waiting for instructions. It's just that Josie was smarter than he was, and they both knew it. But he could do things without her, really! Couldn't he?
...
End of the ninety-fifth chapter. Thanks for reading; I hope you liked the updates!
