Let It Go (21 page)

“Deal!” Luka finally finds her smile, meeting Savannah’s pinky finger with her own.

“Luka,” Buffy calls, the Clydesdales getting impatient, their hooves nearly the size of dinner plates pawing at the road.

“I’m coming. Don’t leave without me!” Luka runs toward the wagon, securing her most favorite activity of the autumn festival. Buffy happily greets her, hoisting her up and onto the wagon.

“Giddyup! Gee! Haw!” Zoey chants her navigational cues to the team of Clydesdales. Simply beside herself, she beams at the chauffeur, the driver rather, proudly displaying the lingo he taught her. Her customary comical delivery causes a round of laughter throughout the backyard as the grand horseflesh marches away, the first official hayride of the year. Fall has begun.

“Someone needs to get that kid her own show.” Jac chuckles.

Savannah waits until they are well down the street before retrieving her phone from her back pocket.
Slut
? The unbecoming term haunts her. “What site were they on?” Her hands busily investigating.

“Welcome to the World Wide Web,” Jac mutters. “Good for informing your kids long before they need to be informed.”

“What the…” Savannah’s words trail off as she reads, not from the infamous web but from her own text box.

“What?” Jac hops off of her tire, coming to Savannah’s side, nosing over her shoulder and reading from the screen.

You’re a slut! I hate you. Jack hates you. Everybody hates you!!! You better quit talking to him like you’re something special. You’re not. Get your own

The startling text barrage begins, a hundred and sixty characters at a time.

godamn life and stay the fuck out of ours! You wanted to spread your legs. Go do it! And leave my boyfriend the fuck alone. You’re nothing but a white trash

“What the hell is this?” Jac’s dander is most definitely battered, not simply stirred at this point. “Is this that douchebag’s girlfriend,” she points to Jack, “talking to you like this?” Her hands visibly shaking, the adrenaline bashing her system at the thought that someone would attack her sister in such a vile and cowardice manner as a texting spree.

Completely flabbergasted and quite numb, Savannah attempts to remain calm, assured there has to be some sort of explanation. “She spelled godamn wrong,” Savannah notes, the journalist coming out in her. “It has two d’s…goddamn. If you’re going to sputter swear words at someone via text, shouldn’t you at least spell them correctly?”

“Is her intelligence even a question?” Jac lashes out. “Nobody but an
idgit
would do this,” Jac uses her most favorite term, classifying an individual who is something of a cross between an idiot and a dimwit.

“Maybe she just needed to get it off her chest.” Savannah maintains, attempting to shield the defamatory words from affecting her as she scrolls down to the next text.

whore. You think you’re all that. Your column writing lame ass self. I have an education, too. You’re nothing special. Miss Independent? You’re a pathetic

excuse for a woman. You used Jack. Walked all over him to get ahead. He loves me more than he ever loved you. We have the best sex. He loves having sex

with me!!! You better stay the fuck away from him. You think I give a fuck? I don’t. I know people. You better be careful little princess…

Savannah sucks in a deep breath, the insulting and threatening words chewing on her heartstrings, she fends them off. “Hmm. Well, guess I know what she thinks of me.” She chuckles to bury the pain, not only of what a stranger thinks of her, but what Jack must have told Daisy for her to think so. “Should I tell her, ‘I can only please one person per day. Today is not her day. And tomorrow doesn’t look good either,’” Savannah preps the phone in her hand, not quite sure of how she should respond, never having encountered such before.

“You block that bitch’s number from your phone. That’s what you do,” Jac orders, her face beet-red, her body amped and transforming to her derby girl persona,
Jac-You-Up.

“Jac,” Savannah soothes, her voice soft and low. Her efforts to no avail, Jac is gone much like Bruce Banner, her alter ego rearing its reckoning-loving head.

Jac makes a beeline for Jack Brigant, who conveniently has his face ducked in the apple bobbing bucket. A menacing smirk forms on her lips, likening the unsuspecting Jack to her sister, who certainly was not prepared for the plethora of noxious sentiments his
idgit
girlfriend unleashed.

“Jac!” Savannah yells, following after her.

Jac mashes her hand down against the back of Jack’s head, fully submerging it under water. Holding it down momentarily as the water sloshes and gurgles about with his resistance. Yanking his head up and out of the basin by his hair, Jac seethes, “You want an apple, you sorry ass son of a bitch?” She grabs up an apple, shoving it into his open mouth gasping for air. The red fruit bruising against his teeth ultimately falls to the ground.

Jack looks at her as if she has gone mad, completely unaware of what has triggered such a reaction. “What the hell has gotten into you?” Jack rebukes, wiping at his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, growing embarrassed at the alarmed eyes of party-goers peering in awe at the ruckus.

Jac clutches floating apples from the basin, pelting them one by one at Jack. He unsuccessfully attempts to dodge the balls most suitable for pie filling as he quickly backs away from her. Savannah and Vangie come to Jac’s side, trying to calm her. Payton attends to Jack, pulling him away to a safe distance, the two men ducking and dodging.

“Stop it!” Vangie pleads, dumping the basin and the rest of the apples onto the ground, shutting down Jac’s mode of ammunition. “Sorry folks. Please don’t let us disturb you,” Vangie apologizes to her mother’s shocked guests. “Thank God the kids and Mama are on a hayride. What is the matter with you?” she mutters out the side of her mouth to Jac.

Jac points her finger accusingly at Jack, taking off after him. “He is what’s the matter with me. Him and his
idgit.”

Payton jumps in front of Jack. “Now…there’s no need to get physical. We’re all adults here. Surely we can talk this out,” he plays to Jac’s senses.

“Payton, move,” Jac challenges headed in their direction, dropping her shoulder as if she is in the derby rink.

“Ah shit,” Payton stammers, having seen her perform this maneuver before at one of her bouts. “Sorry Brigant,” he apologizes before stepping out of the way.

Jac levels a defenseless Jack, planting her shoulder into his middle and charging forward with all of her might, dumping him to the ground. “Ugh!” he expels as his back and ribs take the brunt of his weight.

“You’re not welcome here anymore. You got that?” Jac stands over him, her fists clenched and aching for release.

“Jac. That’s enough.” Savannah stands beside her, taking hold of her hand, nearly on the verge of tears, knowing this whole debacle is her fault.

“Maybe you should go, Jack,” Vangie joins them, mediating.

“Keep her off of me and I will,” he defends, brushing himself off and standing up. He looks at Savannah, his eyes angered and hurt. “This is what it’s come down to, huh?”

“You don’t get to be the victim anymore,” Savannah warns through gritting teeth, her finger pointing in his direction.

Vangie shoos them further from the backyard, out into the street. Returning to the guests, she attempts to reestablish a fun, enjoyable atmosphere. Payton assists her.

In the street, Jac, Savannah and Jack stand in front of his red Challenger. Savannah stands between them, her arms outstretched, for Jack’s protection.

“Would somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?” Jack asks, holding his arm against his aching ribcage.

“We’re going to your place, that’s what the hell is going on,” Jac says. “That’s where your nasty-mouthed little wench is, right? Seeing how the two of you have moved in together.”

“Whoa,” Jack defends, “wench? There’s no need for name calling.”

“Tell her that.” Savannah lobs her phone at him, the texts displaying one by one.

“Aw no,” Jack mumbles, shaking his head scrolling through Daisy’s messages. “Ah God. Savannah, I’m sorry.”

“Huh!” Jac releases a disbelieving scoff.

“I’ve been here. You think I knew she was texting this?” Jack challenges.

“It doesn’t matter. None of this matters,” Savannah says.

“The hell it doesn’t. He knew exactly what he was doing coming over here without her.” Jac heads toward him. Savannah cuts her off, holding her around the middle. “You can play all the games you want with
idgit
. But you leave my sister the fuck out of your twisted little schemes,” Jac barks, pushing against Savannah, her arm and finger accusing in his direction.

“It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.” Jack shakes his head, his eyes remorseful, moisture collecting in them.

“Just go, Jack. Leave!” Savannah’s voice rises with emotion and the physical objection she faces from Jac.

Jack lobs her phone into the grass, reluctantly getting into his car and peeling out.

“Savannah, let me go,” Jac warns politely.

“You promise not to go after him?”

“Yep.” As soon as Savannah releases her, she heads for her truck on the other side of the street.

“You promised.” Savannah chases after her.

“I promised not to go after
him
, little sister.” Jac shuts herself inside her truck. Savannah jumps up on the hood, lying on her stomach, her fingers clutching around the lip between the hood and the windshield, a dramatic sacrificial protest. “Savannah Georgia Bondurant, I am pulling rank,” Jac threatens with her superior birth order. “Remove yourself from my truck this instant.”

“No, I will not, Jacqueline Bouvier Bondurant.” Savannah clutches her grasp more firmly, to which Jac lays on her horn.

“Oh, good Lord,” Vangie exhausts, watching them from the backyard. “You’d think I would have at least one civil sister.” She rolls her eyes at Payton, who consoles her. “They better knock it off before Mama gets back. Can I get you some more cider, Widow McKettrick,” Vangie offers, veering the nosy next-door neighbor out of sight from the street.

“This is my duty as your big sister,” Jac continues, her voice projecting through the windshield. “It’s just like Snotty Sammy Salazar. Remember? He called you
metal mouth
when you had your braces. I still wonder how that tin foil felt coming out the other end.” Jac reminisces about how she force fed him the paper-thin metal sheet for picking on her kid sister.

“And I love you for it. But you can’t go beating up everybody who has a bad opinion of me.”

“What that
idgit
did was uncalled for, Savannah. And somebody needs to let her know that.” Jac revs her engine. “Now, cease and desist.”

“I don’t care. What they think of me,” Savannah speaks in half-truths. “It doesn’t even matter. Jac, please.”

“Savannah,” Jac whispers, shutting down the engine after noticing tears roll down her youngest sister’s face. Quickly getting out of the truck, she props herself up on the hood aside Savannah, both of them lying against the windshield. “If it doesn’t matter, then why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” Savannah’s voice flutters through abdominal gasps, her hands roughly swiping at the moisture filling her cheeks. “Being called names. Especially hateful, vile ones, isn’t exactly a pleasant experience.” She catches her breath, disappointed in her adolescent self for not having outgrown the opinions of others, even in her thirties. “I didn’t mean to offend her…Daisy. I really didn’t.”

“I know. Shh.” Jac holds Savannah’s hand, quieting her cry. “I don’t think she’s offended. Threatened maybe. That’s the only logical explanation for someone to respond like that. Freaking classless
idgit,”
Jac mutters.

“This is so stupid. The whole damn thing. I’m sorry I’m wasting tears over this.” Savannah attempts to get hold of her emotions.

“I wish you’d just get mad instead of sad. Don’t you want to punch her lights out?”

“Well yeah,” Savannah defends, chuckling at her spunky sister. “Sure. That’s my knee-jerk reaction. A mouth that nasty ought to have its vile little teeth rammed right down the back of its ugly little throat. But what’s that going to solve, really?”

Jac shrugs. “Might make you feel better.”

“Momentarily. But eventually I’d feel bad for doing so. Resorting to that level, you know.” Savannah wipes her running nose on the sleeve of her shirt. “This is some high school bullshit. It’s ridiculous! Thirty year olds don’t act like this, right?”

“Not secure thirty year olds. If
idgit
felt confident in their relationship, she would have no reason to feel threatened and in turn threaten you. Moron,” Jac continues to spout animosities about Daisy, hopeful it will somehow soothe her desire for physical aggression.

Savannah snuffs, wiping away the last of her tears. “Makes me wonder what he’s been telling her. ‘He hates me. I used him,’” Savannah rehearses the sentiments of Daisy’s texts. “I knew he wasn’t happy about the split. Guess I was naive to think it could be amicable. I would never say those things about him.” Her voice cracks as more tears fall, faced with the truth of Jack’s feelings, hurt and disappointed that the eight years they spent together have essentially been wiped off the map and replaced with contempt.

“Maybe you should start,” Jac pipes, her admission that she’s game for slandering Jack if it would replace Savannah’s hurt with anger, an emotion she’s much more comfortable with.

“I just wanted to let go of everything in a healthy manner, you know. Honor it, respect it for what it was,” Savannah talks herself through their separation. “Both of us move on with our lives. Be happy. And be happy for one another. He is clearly not happy for me. He hates me.” Savannah throws her arms out to the sides. “And frankly, I don’t feel all warm and fuzzy for him either. Not after this.”