It has come to my attention that your father invited you over for the holidays with your brothers while I was going to be away with my sisters. My plans have been canceled. If you have finally decided to apologize for your behavior and leave behind the crass life you have been living, you may attend the family dinner.
If you plan to make an appearance, remember that there will be other guests and the rules regarding behavior around company are still in place. Since I suspect you have forgotten them, here is a list:
- Do something with your hair, you look so plain when you leave it straight.
- Put on some makeup. This is a Carlton dinner, not a trip to the drive-thru.
- Wear an appropriate dress and heels. No jeans or slacks and cover your ass and breasts. This isn't your own personal shit show.
- Try to act like a lady and not one of the immigrants that cuts the lawn.
- Don't embarrass us in front of our guests with your dock worker's mouth. If you cannot keep it under control, do not talk unless you are addressed directly.
- If that vile nonsense you have been doing has left you with scars, cover them up. No one wants to see them.
- If someone asks what you do for a living, under no circumstances are you to tell them the truth. Tell them you have been doing mission work or that you had a mental break and have been under a doctor's care or something. You always did have a weak constitution, they will believe it.
- If you do not have an appropriate vehicle, we will send a driver to pick you up.
- Do not bring any of your deviant friends or have one of them drive you. They are not invited.
RSVP if you will be coming so that we know whether or not to bother setting a place at the table for you. Do not worry about bringing anything. We still have a paid kitchen staff and you were never that good at cooking anyway.
Aidan finished reading over the letter one more time before the driver opened the door and stood back in polite silence to give Aidan room to step out. There was a nice hole in the center of the paper. The "invitation" had been to Christmas, and she had RSVPed rather... creatively. No time like New Year's to make up for it, right?
There was a self-satisfied smile fixed firmly on her glossy, pale pink painted lips. She wore a sleeveless white evening gown with silver beadwork on the shoulders, down the center of the front and back, and around the hips and behind. The deep v-neck and tapered bodice flattered her already perfect proportions and the low, matching beaded heels she wore made her taller than the stocky driver.
Her eyes turned toward the house. Tiny was lurking on the front porch, mumbling something into his sleeve. Tonight was probably a security nightmare for him. Then again, when had anything ever actually happened at one of these events? The biggest 'threat' to the peace was Maureen herself. With a nod and a tip to the driver, Aidan bit the inside of her lip and started up the heated path to the door. It was perfectly clear of snow, ice, and road salt.
The hulking private security guard who had been working for the Carlton family since her childhood looked rather shocked once he realized who she was. Though he had seen her more than once as an adult in the past few months, she had never been quite so dressed up when she had returned to the house. She dared say that looked like a blush on his cheeks when he directed his eyes at the boards of the porch.
“Stay warm, Tiny.”
“Thank you, Miss Aidan.”
Her lips twitched further upward as she paused and looked over to him. She was a little surprised that he didn't try to stop her, in all honesty. That meant that Maureen hadn't given express instructions that Aidan was banned. Then again, the hag probably didn't expect her to show up. She was also surprised that he called her “Aidan,” however, and not the name she had grown up under.
“I didn't know you were a wrestling fan.”
“Been for years, ma'am. Looking forward to your next match.”
“So am I, Tiny. So am I.”
Smiling brightly now, she stepped across the threshold through the door that was opened by one of the extra hired staff for the evening. She had no coat to take, so he directed her toward the festivities with a silent, polite gesture. Oh, she hadn't missed this in the least. Tonight would be special, however.
She had arrived more than fashionably late, by design. She wanted to be sure that everything was in full swing when she made her appearance. It was more fun that way. The sound of her heels clicking on the floor was audible over the quiet din coming from the formal dining room where she knew everyone would be sitting down to dinner.
Maureen had quite the predictable schedule when it came to these soirees of hers. They always started at six. Dinner was at seven. The elbow rubbing continued until around nine. Whoever was left after that continued drinking wine until everyone was a mess but they all pretended it never happened afterward.
The murmur of conversation grew louder in her ears as she passed through the small parlor, closer and closer to the festivities. None of the staff batted an eye in her direction or gave a second glance. She was dressed the part, she moved with confidence. She looked every bit like she belonged, because she had built that façade over years of living in this place.
Maureen was currently regaling her guests with some tale or other while they feigned interest. The subject matter was surprising. She never would have guessed that her name came up at all since her portrait had been blasted off of the family tree in the upstairs bedroom all those years ago.
“Her father visited her briefly before Christmas, she's not doing well. Even as a girl, she never could handle the pressure of high society, you know? She was smart of course, no child of mine would be allowed to be anything but, but never like her brothers. You could just see her bowing under the responsibility of being a Carlton.
“When she left I thought that perhaps it would be good for her. Maybe without the handouts she had come to expect, she would see that the rest of the world wasn't what she thought it was. Poor thing. She couldn't handle that either. She's rarely been out of a doctor's care. I don't think she'll ever be able to truly function like the rest of us.”
When she stepped into the dining room, it immediately fell silent. Though her inner satisfaction sailed to new heights, she kept her face a perfect emotionless mask. Maureen had seen her first from her position at the head of the table, just like Aidan had known she would, and the expression on the old bat's face was enough to quiet all the others.
Some of them recognized her, though it had been years, and she heard her old name whispered a few times around the long table. All twelve seats were filled. The settings were all there, but the meal had yet to be served. Wine was readily available, of course. She helped herself to a glass off of a tray from a passing server. It was a dry red—and she hated all reds—but she had a drink just to make a point.
She waited patiently for Maureen to come out of her apoplectic convulsions. Mouth all agape, eyes wide, shoulders heaving as she struggled to get words out but could only make shrill squeaking sounds; if Aidan hadn't known better, she would have thought the bitch was having a seizure. It would have been equally amusing if she had been.
“What are you doing here?!”
“As I recall, your New Years Eve parties were always open invite, were they not?”
“Did you honestly think you were welcome after that... that... stunt you pulled before Christmas?!”
She faked a wounded expression.
“Stunt? What stunt, Maureen? How could I have been pulling anything if I were under a doctor's care, after all?”
“You know exactly what you did!”
The false hurt faded and her face returned to the same impassive guise. She couldn't hide the amusement from glittering in her eyes, however.
“Yes, I do. And I of course I know I'm not welcome here. That's precisely why I came. The year is coming to a close and with all those resolutions in the air I started waxing nostalgic about this old house of deceit. I just couldn't help myself. I was compelled to drop by in my free time before the doctors noticed I’ve escaped and call the authorities.
“That's what you've been telling everyone, right? Poor, sad, weak little December just buckled under the weight of her old family name? I ran wide-eyed and fearful into the big bad world years ago and I've been rocking back and forth in a padded room ever since?”
It wasn't only Maureen who made a horrified sound as she stepped effortlessly up on the arm of one of the guest's chairs and then right onto the surface of the old hard wood table. Her heels clicked merrily on the smooth surface as she strolled half way down to stand right in the center of it. She turned a slow circle, gaze roaming over every face seated around her.
“Oh, all the lies that must have been told in this room over the years. You know... If you hold your breath, don't move a muscle, and listen very closely... you can still hear them being whispered.”
She pointed to the head of the table where Maureen was sitting.
“Now, that right there is the end-all, be-all, supreme ruler, and reigning champion of shoveling bullshit down everyone’s throat and pretending it’s figgy pudding. The skeletons in that sandy cunt’s closet have skeletons in their own closets.”
Pivoting on her heel, she let her accusatory pointing finger sweep over the lot of them.
“But each one of you is guilty in your own right. The things you all think you know about each other. The things you think no one knows about you. How that tangled web has ever survived this colossal shit storm, I’ll never know. But! Maureen here is the both the host and the guest of honor—because she said so—so I wouldn’t dream of starting with anyone but her.”
The collective gasp came right on cue. These people were entirely predictable.
“December Ada Carlton, don’t you dare—”
A sharply pointed gesture toward the head of the table shut the hag’s mouth.
“December Carlton is dead, Maureen. She died nine years ago when some self-righteous old bitch with a superiority complex told her that she wished she had never been born because she couldn’t control her anymore. I am Aidan Carlisle, and I have not been withering away in and out of a mental institution. I cast off the weakness and petty squabbles of this old-money fuckstand and became my own animal so I could really, really tear people apart. I am a professional wrestler.
“I get into the middle of a twenty-by-twenty ring and I beat the ever-loving fuck out of people in front of a live audience of tens of thousands and on nationally broadcast television for money and my own personal pleasure. I have been for about eight years now, and I’ve traveled the world to do it. I’ve fucked up Brits and Micks and Chinks and Spics—”
She watched with glee as they all recoiled in horror at the racist terms she would never have otherwise used. Every last one of those words she had heard uttered by one person in the room or another when she was younger. Yet there they sat, aghast, as she hurled their own hypocrisy in their faces.
“—I’ve curbstomped whores and Daddy’s girls, gutter trash and rich bitches, self-serving elitists and broken souls, and I’ve done it without the least bit of remorse in my twisted, black little soul. There is one thing that Maureen taught me in my internment here, and that was how to destroy anything that crossed my path without batting an eye before they could even think about doing it to me first. I’ve put it to good use since I freed myself from this place, and everything in between then and now—”
She had a sip from the glass of wine she had been holding before she reached up and gingerly set it atop her head—balancing it there perfectly because yes she had gone to finishing school, thank you very much—as her hands moved to her shoulders to push the straps of her gown off and let it flutter to the table top. She plucked the glass from her head as the shocked cries filled the room at the sight of her standing there, bold as blood, in a flesh-toned strapless bra and matching panty set—lacy, of course, because this was a fancy party. There was one pair of eyes glued to her ass, she noted.
“—has turned me into the fucking marvel of violence standing before you. I have happily subjected myself things you could never imagine. I have damaged other human beings in irreparable ways and touched myself at night thinking about it after the fact. I shaped myself into the ninth wonder of the world and more people know my name than will have ever heard of any of you by the time your headstones are chiseled.
“You think that your ‘power lunches’ and chastising the hired help is difficult? You think that you deserve to treat yourself for enduring a business merger handled by your underlings or another inquiry from the IRS because you are evading taxes? This shit is not the real world! You are all impotent, simpering half-wits that would be torn apart in a second if you ever had to face the darkest parts of reality. And those parts are where I cozy up at night.
“You do not know real pain. You do not know suffering. You have no concept of what it is like to embrace those things and make them make you stronger until nothing can touch you and no one would dare try. I am a bastion of brutality because that is what I chose to become, and from this moment forth not one of you will ever forget who I am or what I have done.”
Aidan had another drink from the glass of wine. It’s bitter taste didn’t even bother her. This was too much fun.
“These scars here on my arm? Those are from having shards of glass embedded in me. This little one here on my jaw? Barbed-wire wrapped two-by-four. The one up here between my shoulder blades is from a bed of nails. The faint ones further down are from a glass topped coffee table because some sad, sour, used up bitch walked in on me getting ready to fuck the man who had kicked her to the curb. Oh, and those bruises? Those are just from a little play time whipping, don’t mind those.”
Shock. Disgust. Fear. Intrigue. Rage. Pity. Confusion. The emotions swirled around the room, but the eyes never left her. She reveled in the rising levels of discomfort from all of Maureen’s guests. Oh how they were appraising her, determining some demeaning value for what they couldn’t look away from.
“You sit there, all of you, judging me, deciding what I must be worth based on your own numbers. You want to see just how I stack up against you and your overly high opinions of yourselves. You just can’t wait to titter and snicker behind Maureen’s back as you gossip with all of your other friends about how you can use it to raise your own position in your never-ending pissing contests. Well, let’s just do a little assessing, shall we?
“Mister and Missus Van Allen—or rather, the third Missus Van Allen. Careful now, you’re going on forty, aren’t you? He’ll be upgrading to a newer model soon, and she’ll be younger than I am Not that I feel sorry for you, really. You’ve been siphoning money out of one of his off-shore accounts for a few years now because you know it’s coming. And the last Missus Van Allen showed you how.”
A shrill snicker, quickly cut off behind a hand, caught her attention. A vicious smirk crossed Aidan’s lips as she turned her head to the other side of the table.
“Oh, the Davenports. Tsk tsk. You really didn’t want to be the center of my attention. I went to school with your daughter, Madison. Little Maddy, such a good girl, wasn’t she? The little apple of your eye, bringing all that do-gooder prestige to your family name.
“She’s out doing missionary work building hospitals in some third-world country right now, isn’t she? Did you still think she was a good girl when she lost her virginity at fourteen to the JV quarterback in the high school bathroom? Ooh, I’m sorry, did you not know about that?”
“Stop it, this instant!”
Aidan rolled her eyes as she made a dismissive gesture toward the head of the table.
“Oh shut up, you old bag. You’ve been talking for years and no one has given a fuck about what you’ve had to say. Time to let the guests have the spotlight here. I’m not even halfway done.”
Her eyes scanned the table as she looked for the next set of prey.
“Oh, hi there Mister and Missus Winslow. You know I always thought you guys were great, right? Well, at least until I stopped seeing Emily that one summer after her uncle visited. I never could figure out why, until I overheard you two whispering furiously on the veranda about how you had almost let it slip that your brother got caught trying to diddle your children. And instead of having the son of a bitch arrested, you sent the kids away so they would never tell anyone.”
The only other unpaired individual at the table aside from Maureen caught her attention next.
“Miss Kensington. Everyone’s favorite bitter old spinster. You’ve run off… what, six husbands now? See, everyone here probably thinks she has three children, yeah? Well, the truth is, Ruth here has, or rather, had, five. She abandoned the first one because, and I quote, ‘I can’t have a mongoloid wearing the Kensington name.’
“And you know how she doesn’t see well out of her left eye? Well that’s because she had herself just a few too many gin and tonics before going for a joyride one night. Crazy what a lightpole can do to a Bently, isn’t it? Crazy how you were worried more about the Bently than the infant you didn’t put into the car seat properly.”
A glowing smile fixed itself on her face as she turned back to the other side of the table. She was almost starting to catch a breeze, standing there in her underwear, but she didn’t care.
“Mister Rothchild, you are actually kind of amazing. In this entire fucking mess you married into, somehow you are still a decent person. You have avoided being crushed by all this bullshit or letting it turn you as bitter as the rest of them. And Missus Burgess, I honestly believe that you actually give a shit about all those charities you have set up. Everyone else here pays their empty praise to it, but you really do put your heart into it. It’s too bad that you guys’ spouses have been fucking each other for like, what, fifteen years now?
“And we’re not just talking a fling here and there, you know that right? I’m not sure Vernon Burgess has ever actually been on a business trip. Have you checked his passport? Is he even vaccinated for some of those countries he claims to have gone to? He’s been giving Eloise Rothchild some pretty regular injections though. But don’t worry, she swallowed all those potential embarrassments. Can’t have that secret getting out when we’ve been telling our husband we can’t have children, now can we?”
Now that the rage in the room was churning like the sea before a hurricane, Aidan closed her eyes and soaked it all in. She could feel the storm of emotions and picture all the separate explosions that were going to happen when these horrid people went home later. All of Rochester might actually collapse from the force.
She downed the last of the wine from the glass. Every drop of the bitter taste was still sweeter than the looks on the face around the table at the moment. For a second or two she considered the glass in her hand as she rolled it back and forth between her fingers. Then, she threw it into the fireplace with a satisfying shatter. Who didn’t want to do that at least once?
“This has been fun, really. It is New Years Eve, and I did not want this night to pass without some fireworks for all of you. After my years of absence it’s the least I could do, to relieve you all of the burdens you’ve been carrying and desperately hiding from one another. See, this started with you judging the fuck out of me, but suddenly I’m the most normal one here, and I’m standing in my lingerie in the middle of the table.”
Deciding that it was time to remedy that, she leaned down and grabbed the shoulders of the dress, pulling it back up over herself and slipping her arms into place. She smoothed it out over her flawless figure and strode back to the end of the table to hop down. She landed lightly on her toes, even in the heels.
The staff had been all but oblivious to everything that had just occurred, so wrapped up in their duties as they were. Everyone in the dining room had been too dumbstruck to call for security. So, right on time, dinner started to arrive from the kitchen. As one of the trays passed her, she snatched a crab-stuffed mushroom cap off of it and popped it into her mouth.
As she passed back through the parlor to the entryway, the enraged screaming finally began. It sent a delicious little tingle up her spine, and she basked in it with her eyes closed until she reached the foyer. She gave a nod to the doorman before stepping onto the porch.
“Tiny… you may be fired tomorrow. If you are, give me a call.”
She produced a business card from a hidden pocket on her dressed and passed it to the massive security guard. He didn’t know quite what to say, and she didn’t give him the chance before heading down the walkway toward the drive. Her ride was still waiting, as she had instructed. This… this was the best New Years she had experienced in a long while.