“I ..., you ..., I ...,” she breathed, feeling a little like she was going to faint. Ang groaned and started to walk towards her.
“I didn't want you to find out this way, I wanted -,”
Tate lost it. Her mind wasn't exactly the strongest thing on the best of days, and it certainly wasn't one of those days. She let out a shriek and banged the umbrella against the bedroom door. The sound was loud, and caused Ang to jump. Tate let out another frustrated yell as she turned and hurried back into the seating area. There was some muffled movement in the room behind her, then she heard footsteps racing after her.
“Don't talk to me. I don't want to talk about it,” she said, her voice fast and shaky. Ang appeared in front of her, now wearing a pair of boxer briefs. He stood in front of the open door, blocking her exit.
“Stop. We have to talk about this, you look like you're going to pass out,” he told her. She stared at him for a second and then whirled away, pacing across the living room.
Don't crack. Do. Not. Crack. One breakdown per day, that's all you get.
“I'm fine. I just have to get out of here,” Tate said, raking a hand through her hair.
“Just let me -,” Ang started again, walking up next to her. He reached for her arm, but she swung the umbrella up, pointing it at his chest.
“Don't touch me!” she hissed at him. “How could you do this? How could you not tell me!?”
“You've been gone! You've been with him! How was I supposed to tell you!?” Ang yelled back, holding his hands up like her umbrella was locked and loaded.
“Stop using him as an excuse for everything! This is why, isn't it!? Why you've been weird for so long, why you never wanted to see me!” Tate yelled. He looked at her like she was stark raving mad.
Jameson never looks at me like that. Sanders never looks at me like that.
“I wasn't being weird, Tate, I was just waiting for the right time,” Ang said. From behind him, Tate could hear soft footsteps coming down the hallway. She narrowed her eyes and stepped to the side so she could point her umbrella at his guest.
“Well, you sure knew how to pick the right fucking time. Was this your idea?”
She was very pregnant, but her sister still looked beautiful. Ellie's honey blonde hair was a disheveled mess around her head, and her shirt had been buttoned wrong, leaving one side hanging lower than the other. She was chewing on her bottom lip.
“Tatum, it's really ..., not what you think,” Ellie insisted. Tate let out a laugh, but it sounded more like a dying cat.
“Not what I think? Not what I think!? Then things sure have changed a lot during my little vacation, cause it looked an awful lot like the two of you were fucking!” she screamed at them, waving the umbrella around as she spoke.
Ang closed his eyes, sucking air through his teeth. Ellie turned bright red. Tate glared at both of them, gulping in deep breaths of air, the umbrella still held out in front of her like a weapon. She glanced around them. The living room made sense, now. Ang and Ellie must have stumbled in, gotten busy on the couch. Knocked over the lamp. Ripped each others clothes off, and then crashed into the bedroom.
Thank god I didn't come in any earlier.
“Tate. Please. It just sort of ..., happened. We spent a lot of time together while you were in the hospital. We both missed you,” Ang explained, holding his hands out defensively. She gasped.
“This has been going on for over two months!?” Tate demanded. He winced.
“It just happened one night,” he told her.
“It just happened one night!? You both missed me!? So, what, you thought sleeping with each other would be like being with me!? That is so fucking weird, and some kind of incestuous, I'm sure,” Tate pointed out, pressing a hand to her forehead.
“It's not all always about you, Tate,” Ang snapped. “We missed you, so that brought us closer together. I get her, and she likes me, I don't know.”
“But jesus, in TWO STATES, my sister and I have managed to sleep with each others ..., whatevers. Somethings. God! She sleeps with Jameson, I sleep with Jameson. I sleep with you, she sleeps with you. Fuck,” Tate swore. Ang went to step forward and she swung the umbrella wide. “Don't fucking come near me. You kept this from me, and it's huge. I may have gone crazy, and I may have sold my soul, but I would never have kept something like this from you.”
“You're not my mother, or my girlfriend, Tate. I can sleep with whoever I want to,” Ang pointed out.
All of a sudden, and very unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears. She didn't know who was more horrified, her or Ang.
“You know how I feel about her, what she did to me. You're my best friend. Why did it have to be her?” Tate sniffled in a small voice. Ang's face went from angry to heart broken in an instant, but it was Ellie who stepped forward.
“Tatum, he didn't do it on purpose – we didn't. Really. And we kept trying to stop, but ..., we just couldn't,” she tried to explain. Tate glared at her.
“Oh, that makes me feel so much better,” she hissed.
“Tate, just chill out and let's -,”
Knock knock knock.
Jameson stood in the open doorway. Perfect. Tate cut her eyes to him for a moment, and then looked back at Ang. He looked equal parts guilty and angry. To be called out by Tate was one thing, but to be called out in front of the devil was quite another.
“You should really keep your door shut,” Jameson's cool voice rang through the room.
“I don't want him here, not now,” Ang's voice was cold and ominous as he stared hard at her. Tate gripped the umbrella between two hands and licked her lips.
“Give us a minute,” she said as Jameson made his way into the suite, shutting the door behind him.
“This looks far too exciting to walk away from. What's going on in here?” Jameson asked, his eyes looking over the messed up furniture, the umbrella in Tate's hand, Ang's state of undress. He stopped when he got to Ellie's disheveled form, and he narrowed his eyes, smiling.
“Get the fuck out of my room!” Ang roared. Jameson raised one eyebrow, but appeared otherwise unruffled by the outburst.
“Your room? I believe my name is on the bill,” Jameson pointed out. Ang's whole body turned red.
“I don't have to take your shit, Satan,” he snapped. Jameson laughed; a dark, evil sound.
“You'll take anything I decide to serve you, Angier,” he growled back.
“That's it, I'm gonna -,” Ang started to swear and stalk across the floor. Tate shrieked and waved the umbrella up and down in between them.
“Stop it! Everyone just shut the fuck up! You and I used to have sex all the time, you're my best friend, and you fucked my sister, the person who tried to ruin my life!” she screamed at Ang. Everyone went completely still. Except for Jameson. He kept smiling. She swung the umbrella around and pointed it at him. “And you! You're the one who planned all of this! You get some sick, weird, pleasure out of fucking with my head! So fuck off!” At last, she swung the umbrella to her sister. “And you! Maybe think of someone else, instead of yourself, for one goddamn fucking second!”
Tate was shaking by the end of her tantrum. She was positive her face was beet red, and had no doubt that she looked full-on crazy. Both Jameson and Ang stepped forward, reaching out for her. She shrieked and swung the umbrella wide, causing them to jump back. She took the opportunity to scurry out of the room, down the hall, and into her own suite. She marched right into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her, as hard as she could.