CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Pax
“Does it have to be here?” Stacey whispered to us. We were outside the Union Club while a glitzy party roared inside. We could hear the clink of champagne glasses, the boom of music filtering out into the balmy New York night.
“Yes,” I ground out. “The better to catch them unawares.”
And with that, I took her hand and we made our way up the stairs to the ballroom. It was the wedding of Andrew Ross, one of Virginia’s business associates, a billionaire who’d allegedly bilked the government of millions in a Medicaid scheme. No wonder security was heavy.
But my brother and I had decided this was the best time to confront our parents. They’d been avoiding our calls, totally mum on the subject, as if freezing us out would be the solution. Even worse, I suspected that they’d hired a PR firm to deflect any blows, should it come to that.
Peyton went first, stepping into the ballroom. Despite the fact that it was raucous party, alcohol being swilled like water, the crowd noticed him. Or noticed us, I should say. After all, who doesn’t look when two six five NFL stars enter a room, towering above the crowd, dominating, domineering in our tuxes?
Plus, we had Stacey with us and she was a celebrity herself now. Her blonde hair was done in an elaborate updo and she wore a green cocktail dress, elegant, perfect, showing off that tiny waist, her long legs.
I felt her stumble a little, gasping, and I bent to whisper in her ear.
“Don’t worry honey,” I encouraged her. “We’re doing the right thing.”
But I could tell she was still hesitant. She didn’t want a public confrontation with our parents, but we’d persuaded her that it was the only way.
“If we don’t,” Peyton had warned, “they’ll make it go away somehow. Gordon will never serve time, no one will know that this ever happened.”
“But how can they make it go away?” she asked, puzzled. “I don’t get it, you can’t make something like this just go away.”
And I shook my head.
“Honey, the world works differently for rich people,” I chided gently. “Just look at the Panama Papers. How many people skirted U.S. laws by using webs of corporations to move money and shield their real identities? It happens all the time.”
And Stacey nodded unhappily. She understood. There was every reason to believe that Virginia’s money would make this all disappear somehow.
So we made our way into the ballroom, a hush descending as voices followed us, stares eating up our forms.
“Isn’t that…?” asked one voice.
“Yeah, it’s the Jones boys,” said another hushed voice. “What are they doing here? Andrew Ross knows them?”
“Andrew Ross knows everyone, billions will buy you famous friends,” a voice replied venomously.
That was harsh, but if the crowd wanted to skewer the groom at his own wedding, that wasn’t my business.
We saw Virginia and Gordon standing over to the side, chatting steadily with an older couple. They didn’t acknowledge us as we approached, only looking up at the last minute when it was impossible to ignore us, impossible to pretend not to see.
“Boys,” boomed Gordon, his arm around his wife. “I didn’t know you knew the Rosses, we didn’t see you at the ceremony. This is quite the family affair isn’t it?”
Virginia tittered hesitantly and clung to her husband’s arm.
“Honey,” she said looking over at Stacey nervously. “You look beautiful, that color suits you well.”
“Really?” asked Stacey slowly. “Really Mom? After everything that’s happened all you can say is that I look beautiful?”
“Honey, this isn’t the time or place,” said Virginia, her eyes darting around nervously. “Not here.”
“Why not?” asked her daughter, looking around, making sure people were looking. “Why not?”
“Because,” her mom said, her voice lowered, dropping almost to a whisper. “All my business associates are here. My clientele, baby, the people who pay me.”
“That’s why we chose this wedding,” I rumbled, not bothering to lower my voice. “That’s why we’re here.”
“Baby, please no,” pleaded Virginia. “Not now. I’ll do whatever you want, later, after the party, I promise, just not now.”
Stacey was hesitant for a moment, considering.
“No, I’m sorry Mom, what happened to me was despicable. I’m sick of being the victim, forced into a dark corner. People have to know.”
And our sister took a step back, making sure all eyes were on her.
“Everyone,” she announced, “I think you know that I’m Stacey Light, the sportscaster. Earlier this year, a man snuck into my hotel room and videotaped me in the shower, selling the tape to the Enquirer.”
“Even now, you can still find the video on-line, and it’s embarrassed me, made me a laughingstock. But I’ve made my peace. I’ve come to the realization that the world has seen me naked, seen me going at it in the shower.”
“But I want to tell you who did that to me. It was them,” she paused dramatically, pointing at our parents. “Gordon Jones, my stepdad, videotaped me, and my mom, Virginia Jones, set it all up.”
And here, there were tears in her eyes.
“My own mother betrayed me, she let my stepdad do whatever he wanted, supported his efforts to tape me in the nude, covered up for him when she should have been protecting me. My mother,” she said, her voice cracking.
But Stacey took another deep breath and continued, steadying herself.
“I want the world to know because they were going to get away with it. Virginia was going to buy her way out somehow. Only we’ve stopped them by taking this very public step. We want everyone to know, we want the public to know.”
And now the hubbub became a roar. Not only were Virginia and Gordon disgusting, betraying their daughter, a young woman they were supposed to care for and protect, but that daughter was announcing it to the world.
But Stacey wasn’t done yet.
“And I want you to know that the men who helped me were my stepbrothers, Peyton and Pax Jones. And,” she said pausing dramatically, “we’re in a relationship.”
The whispering was no longer whispering, we could hear every word.
“How could they?” asked one woman. “How could they do that to their daughter?”
“Why would they?” asked another voice. “Why would they throw their own child under the bus? How despicable,” it concluded with disgust.
“And now she’s with her brothers? This is such a fucked-up family, straight out of a bad soap,” replied a third.
And I nodded my head. I understood. This was like a bad movie, with the scheming, conniving mom, the perverted dad, the kids engaged in a threesome, and a sex tape to boot. But that was our life. And it was better to live it in the open, air out the closets, than stay closed and hidden, suffering in silence.
And so we left in style. Peyton, Stacey and I swept out, our chins up, voices trailing us as we made our way to a waiting limo.
“Sister, we did the right thing,” I reassured her.
“Really?” she asked bitterly. “Why doesn’t it feel like it then?”
And that was the thing. Life was never easy, it was complicated, unfair, and treacherous at times. But now that things were in the open, the bright rays of sunlight would begin the healing.
“We’ll be okay,” soothed Peyton. “Trust me, everything’s going to be okay.”
“I hope so,” said Stacey, looking out the window with tears in her eyes. “I hope so,” she said, lapsing into silence.
And with that, the limo made its way into the dark streets of Manhattan.