Baby Bitch (Bitches and Queens) Read online

  “Abby darling, I thought you had to stay after school for honor club,” Kate said with a bright smile.

  Abby wasn’t buying it. “It was cancelled,” she answered drily.

  “Wonderful,” Kate exclaimed. “We were just about to have dinner.”

  Abby strolled past them, casting only a minute glance at her father before looking away. “I’m not really hungry,” she denied as she reached for the bowl of fruit salad left over from the night before. “I’ll just eat in my room. I don’t want to interrupt whatever…”

  After she had gone, Sam left out a quiet groan and then handed Kate back her panties, which he had confiscated only a few moments ago. “You might want these back.”

  “Nah, they’re wet. I’ll just find a clean pair,” she playfully teased and then frowned at his lack of reaction. “Come on, Sam. It’s hardly the first time she has seen you like this.”

  “I know that,” he said with disgust. “But she hates it. Besides, I’m getting too old to dress in drag.”

  “Well, I’m not too old. I’ll just tell her you do it for me—to indulge my secret lesbian fantasies.”

  “Please don’t,” Sam retorted. “I do not want to explain what a lesbian is.”

  “Abby is fourteen years old. I think she has already figured that one out, especially considering her nanas,” Kate countered.

  “I told her they were just very good friends that happened to share a house,” Sam admitted.

  “And a bedroom—not to mention two children,” she challenged. “Abby isn’t a baby anymore. I know you don’t like to think about it, but she knows more than you think.”

  “She will always be a sweet, little, innocent child in my mind and nothing you can say will convince me otherwise,” Sam adamantly declared.

  The next morning when Abby went downstairs for breakfast before school, she was immensely relieved that her father was once again a man. She hated it when he dressed up. It was the reason she could never spontaneously bring friends back to her house. If word ever got out that her dad occasionally dressed up like a woman, she would never be able to show her face at school again.

  Abby wasn’t like the twins, who seemingly didn’t care what people had to say about their parents. Although they were seniors and she was only in eighth grade, Abby had heard the rumors. McKenna and Kenyon were two of the most popular students in school so obviously, their gay parents hadn’t affected their social status, but Abby was different. She was shy, quiet, and did care about what people had to say. Apparently, she was the only one in this whole family that did.

  “Isn’t the father/daughter dance coming up soon?” Sam asked, trying to break the ice.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Abby shrugged indifferently as she poured a bowl of cereal.

  “We should really start planning,” Sam said. A few years back, he had taken McKenna to that very same dance, and they had had a blast coordinating their outfits. He was hoping it would be a way to reconnect with his daughter. When she was a little girl, Abby was all about her father, but as the years passed, she became increasingly more distant. Sam knew what the problem was. She wanted him to be normal.

  “The girls aren’t really doing that now,” Abby denied without looking his way.

  “They aren’t going to the dance?” Sam questioned, surprised. “I thought it was some sort of long-standing tradition.”

  “No, they go, but they don’t take their dads,” Abby corrected.

  “Oh, I see.”

  “What’s going on?” Kate questioned as she stepped into the kitchen.

  “Nothing,” they both said in unison.

  Kate was waiting for her daughter by the front door as soon as she came home from school. She started the interrogation bluntly and to the point. “Why don’t you want to take your father to the dance?”

  “He told you I said that?”

  “No,” Kate corrected. “He told me what you said to him this morning. Contrary to what you might believe, we are both perfectly capable of reading between the lines.”

  Abby slammed her backpack down on the floor and tried to walk pass, but Kate reached for her arm to stop her. “This conversation isn’t finished.”

  “You have no idea what it’s like,” Abby cried out. “Your parents are normal.”

  “What are you trying to imply—that we aren’t normal?”

  “Oh my God,” Abby groaned as she rolled her eyes. “Half the time when I come down for dinner, I don’t know if I am going to have a mother and a father or two moms.”

  “Abigail Rose Montgomery,” Kate exclaimed sternly. “You know that is not true. Your father rarely dresses in drag, and he is very conscientious about trying not to do in front of you.”

  “But why does he have to do it all?” Abby questioned with a trembling voice. Trying to fight back the tears, she stared at the wall in front of her. “Why can’t he just be a normal dad and like normal guy stuff? Why can’t he talk about watching football or messing around with one of his cars instead of eyeliners and women’s handbags?” Embarrassed and angry by her emotional display, Abby shrugged her arm free and stormed past Kate. As she was taking the stairs two at a time, she yelled out, “The only normal person on this side of the family is Nana Hannah. At least she acts like a grandma.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Kate walked to the kitchen as she wondered what to do next. She didn’t have a rulebook for how to handle emotionally distressed teenage girls. Even if she did, Kate had serious doubts that it would address this particular situation.

  It wasn’t as if she couldn’t understand Abigail’s point of view. Abby was very shy, very sensitive to what other people thought, and very much like her father. That was what Abby was failing to comprehend. She didn’t understand that it was his way to overcome those same insecurities. Abby only saw it as some weird, sexual deviance.

  If Kate told Sam how truly upset it made Abby, he would stop in an instant. Sam would do anything for his daughter. She was his world. But the thought of Sam without drag made her grieve—like saying a final good-bye to a very dear friend.

  Kate just wished Abby would realize that her father didn’t need to be normal because he was fabulous just the way he was.

  Chapter 4

  “That’s all I need,” Pierre Andre, world-famous fashion photographer, announced.

  In Hannah’s opinion, he wasn’t necessarily the best at what he did, but he was the most critical, and his eye was impeccable. Unfortunately, the best photographer couldn’t be objective where McKenna was concerned.

  “That’s it?” McKenna asked worriedly.

  “I got everything I need,” Pierre affirmed flatly.

  “Go on and get changed, darling. I’ll wait for you out here,” Hannah said reassuringly with a wide smile.

  Once McKenna had left, Hannah turned her probing gaze on Pierre. “Well?” she questioned.

  “Your daughter is very pretty.”

  Hannah’s lips puckered to a frown. Very pretty barely began to describe McKenna. She had come into this earth very pretty. Now she was stunningly gorgeous—poised, elegant, and refined. With her platinum hair that was color of moonlight on ice, sultry green eyes, and full, angel-bowed lips, there wasn’t a face working today that could outshine McKenna. And they both knew it.

  “But?” Hannah clipped coldly.

  “But she isn’t Hannah Fairbanks,” Pierre answered quietly as he picked up his camera and began shooting a few candid pictures.

  Hannah responded by turning her head to the side. Pierre chuckled, “You don’t have a bad side. You never did.”

  “Stop,” Hannah demanded as she started to stand. She smoothed her blouse and trousers, even though both were impeccable, and reached for her clutch.

  “That kind of beauty comes along once in a lifetime. It’s like catching a falling star,” Pierre declared.

  “Falling stars burn out,” Hannah retorted. “And that person you speak of, no longer exists.”

  “Yet, she is
standing right in front of me. How odd,” Pierre murmured.

  By the time McKenna returned, Hannah and Pierre were chatting amicably. No trip to New York was complete without an afternoon of shopping, and McKenna insisted on visiting Hannah’s first apartment building in the city. It was close to midnight by the time they had a chance to sit down and eat dinner at a restaurant in the airport, while waiting to catch the red-eye flight home. McKenna knew this wouldn’t be an overnight trip because Hannah never spent an entire night away from Willow. She said she couldn’t sleep without her, and McKenna thought it was sweet that they had been together so many years and were still so close.

  She reached across the table and grabbed her mommy’s hands. “I’m so glad we’re getting along again. I hate it when we fight.”

  “I do too,” Hannah murmured.

  “Promise me that we won’t do it again.”

  “I promise,” Hannah said earnestly and they both started giggling.

  McKenna was deliriously happy. It felt like everything she had been working so hard for was finally falling into place, and the fact that Hannah was there to share it with her only made it that much more special. Although she loved both her parents equally and wouldn’t dream of having a favorite, Mommy was fabulous. No one was as fabulous as she was—well, except maybe Sam.

  Hannah was so fabulous that McKenna actually preferred being with her over her friends, as long as they weren’t fighting. Her friends were fantastic and she loved them all dearly, but no one could outshine Hannah. They didn’t get angry or upset either because they completely understood—they loved her too. Everyone loved Hannah. When Hannah finally decided to join Facebook, she got over one million likes in just a matter of weeks. One million people spread across the globe loved her, but she had only one daughter—her, and that made McKenna feel very special.

  “Most girls your age are thinking about prom. Have you decided who you are going with?” Hannah asked.

  “I haven’t decided. I’ll probably just go with Tanner.”

  Tanner Reed. Tanner was a very nice, very sweet, and very out and proud boy that McKenna had been friends with since forever.

  “I admire your support of our marriage, but not every date you go on has to be gay,” Hannah remarked.

  “Mommy,” McKenna groaned. “That’s not why I don’t date. I have my career to consider. At this point, I can’t let anything distract me.”

  “While you have that career, be sure to remember to live your life as well,” Hannah cautioned.

  “I’ll have years to live after I am established,” McKenna dismissed.

  Her daughter’s drive and determination might have been admirable if she hadn’t been saying those same things since she was six years old. Now, her single-minded focus only worried Hannah. She was afraid McKenna would be devastated when she discovered that her life ambition wasn’t everything she envisioned it to be. Physically, she knew McKenna was up to the challenge—the grueling hours, the frantic pace, playing hopscotch across the globe. It was the emotional aspect that concerned her so.

  Modeling was a tough business and only those with the thickest skin could survive it. The pressure to maintain perfection was exhausting. No matter how hard you tried, there was always some critic waiting in the wings. Those faces that shined the brightest were hated the most. Hannah knew from personal experience.

  She didn’t believe McKenna was emotionally mature enough to handle that kind of loathing. McKenna might look like a fully grown woman, her birth certificate might state that she had reached the legal age of adulthood, but she was still very young and naïve. And so incredibly sweet and tenderhearted—she didn’t have a cruel bone in her body. She was admired among her peers because she never had an unkind word to say about any of them. She was the one who took all the new students under her wing. McKenna reached out to those who felt isolated and alone. Her daughter was everything Hannah had wanted to be at her age, but that wasn’t to say that she didn’t have a mean streak when she didn’t get her way, especially where her family was concerned. In the midst of one her displays of temper, McKenna was truly a sight to behold, but her fire burned quickly and once again, she was back to her sweet, lovable self. Her temper was not hot enough to sustain her. Deep down, Hannah knew she was not ready to be thrust out into the world where she would be hated—if for no reason other than she was Hannah’s daughter.

  “What about asking Taylor to the prom?” Hannah asked casually.

  McKenna’s nose wrinkled with repugnance. She dated him for a few weeks last summer. It was an experience she would just as rather forget. “Taylor was way too familiar. We had only gone out on four dates when he thrust his tongue halfway down my throat. If I had wanted a big, fat, sloppy sausage in my mouth, I would have put it there myself. It was so disgusting.”

  Hannah sipped her water to cover her amusement. Willow claimed that McKenna was a late bloomer, but Hannah had different opinions on the subject, which she kept to herself. The fact remained that she had never expressed interest in a single boy although they chased after her in droves. Hannah lost track of the number of well-meaning mothers she ran into at the fitness club or swimming pool, all of whom would throw subtle hints about fixing up their children. Open-minded and diplomatic, she would convey their messages to McKenna, but she always said they weren’t her type. As far as she could discern, McKenna didn’t have a type.

  McKenna knew her parents worried about her lack of interest in age-appropriate things—boys, dating, prom. Yuck. She didn’t need a rhinestone crown—she had an exquisitely designed diamond tiara that had been given to her when she was four years old. She didn’t need a sash to declare her a queen—she had been born into royalty. Most of all, she didn’t need some adolescent boy to hang on to. Boys were so disgusting—always scratching themselves when they thought no one was looking. Or some, like Kenyon, who did it wherever and didn’t care who saw him. McKenna thought that if they were a little more conscientious while bathing, then they wouldn’t be so itchy down there. Sam was the only male she could actually tolerate being around for extended periods of time... because he never acted like a man. If more men were like him, the world would be such a better place.

  Chapter 5

  Their family had a tradition of gathering at Hannah and Willow’s home each week for Sunday brunch. They were informal occasions. Although the adults were all freshly showered and dressed, the children often gathered around the table in their pajamas.

  Abigail was always impressed, and yes, slightly envious, by how beautiful McKenna looked first thing in the morning, or any time of the day for that matter. Impeccable, with not even a single strand of hair out of place. Abby occasionally wondered if she slept on an angel’s cloud. And heels—regardless of the season or time of day, McKenna always wore heels. It was the reason she didn’t participate in organized sports, which given her height, stature, and slightly obsessive need to be the best at everything she did, she probably would have excelled at.

  Hannah and Willow hugged Abigail and then studied her in unison.

  “Something is different about you, Abby,” Hannah stated.

  “There is something changed,” Willow agreed.

  Abby smiled brightly, revealing her braces-free teeth. “You both know what’s different.”

  “Abby, you look divine,” Hannah exclaimed and pulled her back in her arms for another hug. “You’ll drive the boys crazy.”

  A troubled frown crossed Sam’s brow, and he decided a change of subject was in order. “Yum, something smells good,” he said.

  “Not because of me. McKenna made brunch today,” Hannah answered.

  Sam looked over the spread suspiciously. McKenna playfully smacked his arm. “Stop. You know I can cook. I made Thanksgiving dinner last year.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Awake before ten o’clock on the weekend and a glow of giddiness. What’s your secret? Did you meet a boy?”

  “No,” McKenna groaned.

  �
�Kenna will never meet anyone because she is too picky,” Kenyon declared.

  “I am not,” McKenna denied as she sat down across the table from her parents. “I am just waiting for the one.” Her smile turned dreamy as she looked up at Hannah. “Tell us the story.”

  “Oh McKenna, no one wants to hear it again,” Hannah said.

  “Please,” McKenna pouted.

  “Yes, tell us again,” Sam added gleefully. He enjoyed hearing Hannah’s version of how she and Willow met. It wasn’t a complete fabrication—more like the abridged edition. He was relieved he wasn’t the only one lying to his child.

  “All right,” Hannah conceded. “The first time I saw your mom…” Hannah paused. Looking over at Willow, she reached for her hand and stared deeply into her eyes. “…I knew she was the one.”

  “The only one,” McKenna corrected.

  “Yes,” Hannah murmured. “The only one. I knew we were meant to be together. We had only been dating a few months when I whisked her away for a holiday in Paris. And I proposed to her on the metro.”

  “In Russian,” McKenna added.

  “In Russian,” Hannah agreed.

  “And?” McKenna prodded as she looked over at Willow.

  “And of course, I said yes. Your mommy is very irresistible,” Willow said.

  “And then you made us,” McKenna finished softly. She adored her parent’s love story. It was so romantic. She wasn’t too picky. She had standards, unlike a certain twin she knew who had sex with anything that had breasts. Obviously, Kenyon didn’t hold to the philosophy of waiting for the one, but neither of her mothers knew that. They both still believed he was a virgin, which was a joke. Although McKenna had no idea exactly how many girls he had slept with because she didn’t keep track of that kind of thing, she did know that one of his girlfriends had a pregnancy scare last year. It really freaked him out—as it should, but just when he was about to tell their parents, the girl in question got her period. Kenyon had bit the bullet, but it didn’t stop his whoring ways. Mommy always teased that he was so different from everyone else in the family that she wondered if he had been switched at birth. She didn’t know the half of it. Seriously, who has that much indiscriminate sex? It was just vile. Both Sam and Kate had been virgins when they got married—at least, that was what Sam always claimed. Although her mothers never discussed specifics, McKenna assumed they weren’t bonking every girl in sight. McKenna reasoned sluts were like alcoholics—every family had to have at least one.