by J. L. Beck
“It wasn’t that bad, and I’m enjoying being here with you even though we haven’t been able to spend much time together.”
She smiles, her eyes getting misty. “Awe, honey I don’t deserve a daughter like you.”
No, you don’t, I want to say, but don’t. The waitress comes by the table and takes our orders then. We make small talk about the design of my bedroom and how she wants us to do something together each week to make up for lost time. And because I’m desperate for her affection and love, I agree.
Once our stomachs are filled with more carbs than a human should be allowed to consume, she calls for the check. Our day together is coming to an end and the reality of what awaits me once we get home falls heavily on my shoulders. Being with my mom was an easy distraction from the chaos, but I know once we get home, shit is going to hit the fan.
I bite my tongue, stopping myself from asking her anything about it. Maybe she doesn’t know that they told Vance something different than what happened. She probably wouldn’t care anyway, and only tell me to move on, to get over it, that it’s in the past and can’t be rewritten.
But is it really the past if it’s affecting your future?
“You look lost in thought, is something bothering you?” My mother’s voice rings in my ears and for a moment, I forgot where I was, becoming so wrapped up in my thoughts.
I clear my throat drawing myself back to the present. “I was just wondering why Vance’s parents got a divorce.” I try not to sound too eager, mainly just curious.
“Why…” My mother blinks slowly. “Why would you ask something like that?” Suddenly she seems nervous.
“Oh, no reason really. Just looking for something else to bond with Vance over. He’s a hard nut to crack.” I smile, but it’s forced, and I hope she can’t tell.
“Ahh, well truthfully...I do not know. Henry and I never talk about his and Meg’s marriage. We’re beyond in love. Why worry about the past anyway?”
I want to scream at her...to tell her that Vance and I are currently living in the past because of her and Henry’s selfishness, but I don’t. What’s the point? She doesn’t care, and if she does know something, it’s obvious she isn’t going to tell me. The only way to get the answers that I want and need is to go to Vance.
“You’re right. Let the past be the past, right?”
My mother smiles, and it’s dazzling, happiness filling her eyes. “That’s right. Continue forward, not backward.”
I can’t help but think about the fact that both of them got what they wanted, they ruined two families, and still ended up happily together and that’s the lesson here, I suppose. If you shit on enough people, you’ll always find a way to come out on top.
What kind of person shits on their family though?
39
Vance
Somehow we make it through a whole game of golf without really speaking. I mean it’s not like we just stare at each other or anything, but he doesn’t ask me how I’m doing, or how it’s been with him gone.
He’s changed.
It wasn’t really noticeable before, but since Laura came into his life, he’s almost pushed me out of the picture, only dealing with me when he feels he has to. All my life, I’ve looked up to him, wanting to be like him, but now it feels like I’ve lost my compass, and I don’t know which way to go. I can’t look up to a man that’s lied to me for years, that’s responsible for my anger, my pain. Fuck, I can’t even imagine how Ava must feel right now. She knows now that I had no idea, but that doesn’t mean I can take anything back.
All the things I’ve said and done to her. Just thinking about it, and knowing that I placed the blame on the wrong person this whole time it makes me sick, physically and emotionally. There’s no amount of pleading and begging, there are no words I can say to make her forgive me.
The question I want to ask has been sitting impatiently on the tip of my tongue for the last three hours, but I can’t bring myself to actually ask him. I’ve analyzed every way this could go, and I still don’t have the balls to ask him.
Mainly because I’m not ready to admit it to myself... but the truth is... I’m scared. Afraid to hear my father’s answer. Sure there isn’t shit he could say that would make any of this better or change the damage that’s been done, but I need this, to hear him, to hear the truth spoken out loud, because right now all this feels like is a nightmare I’m never going to wake up from.
After three hours of painful silence while hitting balls around with a bunch of other rich fuckers, we walk back to the clubhouse and load up the clubs into the trunk. I know time is running out. If I want to ask him when it’s just us, I’ll need to do so now.
Knowing that, I mentally prepare myself for what’s to come. I lock down my emotions, sliding a mask onto my face. No matter what he says, at least I’m getting the truth, right? Wrong is wrong, but I don’t focus on that. My stomach knots with dread as we both get into the car. The engine roars to life and fills the empty space inside the car with a dull hum.
Sucking in a deep breath, I blow it out and ask, “Did you and Laura have an affair five years ago?”
“What?”
The shock in his voice surprises me, probably because I was expecting him to say yes.
“Did you?” No way am I repeating that question again, and especially not when I know he heard me the first time.
He gives me a befuddled expression, his brows pinching together. “Why would you ask me something like that?”
No, yes or no answer, just another question on top of all the others.
“Did you?” I repeat more urgently. I need him to say it. Yes or no. My knee starts to bounce up and down, nervous anxiety vibrating off of me.
“Of course not, Vance. What the hell? I loved your mother very much when we were married and never would have done such a horrendous thing.”
My knee stops mid-bounce, and my gaze drops to the floor. No?
“No?” I croak. There’s a terrible feeling inside my chest. It feels like my heart’s being ripped in two, a spasming of pain shooting through me, almost like a bullet has lodged itself deep inside. My lungs burn, needing air, but I can’t even perform the simplest of functions.
“No, of course not, son. Why would you even ask me a question like that?”
He said no.
He said no.
Which means…
“Vance, did something happen? Talk to me, son.” My father’s voice draws me back.
“A...Ava…” I stutter. A hundred things running through my head all at once. Ava’s smile, her laughter, her sweet floral scent, her soft curves, her pink lips.
Everything…everything is a lie. Why can’t I see her for what she is? Why did I let what she said to me affect me in such a way? I should’ve expected this, expected her manipulation. She lied then, and she’s continuing to lie. A cheetah never changes its spots. The pain inside gives way to anger, and it floods my veins, fueling me with red-hot rage like I’ve never felt before.
She manipulated me.
Lied to me…again.
She made me think it was all real. Her tears, her pain.
“What happened? Did something happen when we were gone?” Concern overtakes his confused expression. “I tried to tell Laura it was a bad idea to let her come and live with us. I’m sorry if she upset you.”
Clenching and unclenching my fists to gain some type of composure, I say, “Why? Why was it a bad idea for her to come and live with us?” I could name ten reasons off the top of my head right this second, but I want to know why he thinks it was a bad idea.
Maybe I can get him to ship her off somewhere, obviously not until I get done with her, but nonetheless, I’ll get rid of her even if I have to send her back to her piece of shit father, crying.
“Her mother told me she’s got a serious problem with lying. I guess it’s something she’s developed over the years, or should I say gotten better at. She’s a master manipulator, Vance. She can’t be trusted, not
at all.”
Ain’t that the fucking truth. I should’ve seen this coming, but I was caught up in the glamour of who she was, thinking maybe beneath it all she was an actual fucking human, the friend I had cared for so much. But if there is anything this teaches me, it’s that if someone does something once, and gets away with it, they’ll do it again, and I guess that’s what Ava was doing. Trying to gain some hold over me.
“She lied, right to my fucking face. I swear I thought she was telling the truth. She looked so genuine. She was even crying… real tears, real fucking tears,” I whisper, talking more to myself than my father.
He shakes his head in disappointment. “It makes sense, she’s been making up things since she was an early teen, fabricating stories so well it was hard not to believe them. Remember when she told her father you threatened her? That you wanted her to steal some jewelry so you could sell it? Seems she’s only gotten worse over time. Don’t feel bad for believing her, son. She’s been practicing this lying gig for so long, it’s second nature to her. I’ll have Laura talk to her, let her know that if she does something again, she’s out. I wouldn't subject you to that again. My son isn’t a liar, and you’ve never done anything to anyone.”
Every muscle in my body tightens…I’m strung so tight that once I snap, I worry there may not be any coming back from the things I’ll do.
Such a beautiful fucking liar. She must think I’m stupid, an idiot without a fucking brain. I bet it’s all just a game to her. Letting me fuck her, getting under my skin. Maybe she thinks she can use her pussy to control me. Teeth grinding together, my jaw aching underneath the pressure. I stop myself from punching the dashboard.
I’ve got to unleash the pain… find an outlet, and soon before I explode.
“You know I loved your mother. We might be estranged now, but I did love her when we were married, she gave me you, after all. I respected her too much to ever cheat on her. I’m sorry son, I really am. If I knew she was going to do this kind of thing, I wouldn’t have allowed her to come.”
“It’s fine,” I grit out, my nostrils flaring.
“It’s not. I feel terrible.” He scrubs a hand down his face and all over again, I feel as if I’ve let my father down by falling into a hidden trap.
“It’s really okay, Dad. You did nothing wrong. Can we just go home? I have some plans with Clark and I don’t want to be late.” How I get all the words to come out without a growl, I don’t know. Maybe magic.
“I’ll talk to Laura. I’ll fix this,” my father murmurs, shifting the car into drive. The drive home is short, and he doesn’t say but a handful of words, thankfully. Fire rippling through my veins, I’m ready to burn everything the fuck down.
When we pull into the driveway, I bail from the car before it’s even parked. I look up at the house with murderous rage and take a step forward.
No, my subconscious says. If I walk into that house right now, as angry as I am, I’ll do something I know I’ll regret and when I hurt that lying bitch, the last thing I want to do is regret it. So instead I fish my keys out of my pocket and start for my car.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” my father asks as I stomp across the pavement, each step vibrating through my bones.
“I’m fucking fine. I’m going to Clark’s, so don’t wait up for me. I’ll be home when I get home,” I mutter and slide into the driver seat. I start the car and pull out the driveway as slowly as I can. Once on the street, I floor it, the roar of the engine combined with my rage in my veins giving me an unnatural high.
Driving around aimlessly, I try to decide what the fuck I’m going to do. My need to make her hurt outweighs all my other thoughts.
Liar. Fucking liar. The mere thought of her makes me want to punch a fucking wall. I tighten my hold on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. How can I hurt her the same way she’s hurt me. She used her body, her fucking tears, and my emotions to twist and turn the knife. As if her betrayal from before wasn’t enough, she then drove the knife deeper by fucking lying some more. I suppose I could use her back. She wanted my dick, came on it, sighed my name like a fucking prayer. I’ll just use her body against her, her fucking want for me. She might be a fucking liar but that tight little pussy squeezing around my cock is something you can’t fake.
Soft skin. Green eyes. Pink parted lips. It’s all I can see when I think about her.
“Fuck her,” I yell into the air beating my fist against the steering wheel.
By the grace of God, I end up at Clark’s house. The place looks like a fucking mansion, but it’s very similar to my house. Five bedrooms, twenty million bathrooms, and a pool that lets everyone know we have more money than we know what to do with.
Parking in the driveway, I kill the engine and escape the small space of my vehicle. I need a punching bag, a bottle of whiskey, and some pussy. I don’t knock when I enter the house and why should I, it’s not like he knocks when he comes to mine.
As soon as I enter the over the top foyer, I hear voices. They boom off the walls and into the empty house. They’re coming in the direction of Steve, Clark’s father’s, office. Not wanting to impose, I hang out around the staircase, my hands shoved into my pockets, waiting for Clark to make his appearance.
“I don’t understand why this girl has to stay with us? If she got a scholarship, why can’t she stay in the dorms? I’m an adult, not a babysitter, surely she can care for herself.”
Her? What the fuck is going on? I know I shouldn’t be eavesdropping and I’m not, not really. Both of them are talking loud enough that the neighbors could hear if they wanted to.
“I told you, she has really bad anxiety and I promised her parents that I would watch out for her. Darrel is one of my friends from when I started my business, he is one of the reasons we have money now, you know the money you use to buy booze and all the other expensive shit you have? I’ve known him and his family for a long time and I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do. Now you’ll either do as I say, or you’ll suffer the consequences.”
Consequences? What’s Steve going to do? Take his credit cards?
“Dad…” Clark growls, and I can practically see his face, the tendons in his neck tightening.
“Emerson is a sweet girl, and you will make her feel welcome here. Don’t disappoint me, son. Just do what I say.”
There’s a finality to Steve’s voice and I know whatever his father is setting him up to do he’ll do. Clark might not like the shit his father does, but he wants to be accepted by him, appreciated, seen as more than just a boy.
Seconds tick by and an irritated Clark exits his father’s office, his eyes downcast, frustration riddling what I can see of his face. Obviously neither of us are having a good fucking day. Listening in on Clark’s problems, I almost forgot about my own. About the con-artist at my house, about the fucking lies she spewed just this morning.
“What happened?” he asks as soon as he lifts his eyes and sees me standing against the staircase. Everything seems to fade away around me. All I see, all I feel is her, her lies wrapping around my throat, tightening, stealing my breath.
The muscles in my jaw flex. “You don’t even want to know, but since you’re best friends with the bitch, I’ll tell you. Long story short, we fucked, she used her pussy and some fake tears to spin a story about how my father cheated on my mom with her mother.”
Clark’s gaze widens. “Whoa, whoa. That’s…wow.” He pauses. “And you…fucked? How was it?” Suddenly he’s grinning. Of-fucking-course he worries about what it was like to fuck her instead of the task at hand.
Amazing. Sensational. Jaw-dropping. Nothing but a lie. That’s what it was like.
“Tight, warm, great until she opened her mouth.” I try and sound uninterested.
Clark shrugs. “That’s what it’s like every time. You’re fucking them, it’s great, you blow your load and then they open their mouth and suddenly it wasn’t worth it.”
“Getting off track
here,” I growl. I’m an impatient fucker and my chest begs for something to dull the ache taking up residence inside it.
“Dude, sorry, you said something about fucking and it’s like I have a one-track mind sometimes.”
My features deadpan. “Look, it was either I came here and lost my fucking shit or went back to the house and confronted her and right now I don’t trust myself to be in the same house as her, so do you want to get piss drunk with me or do you have other plans for the day? Plans that involve the girl downstairs maybe?” I question with a thick brow raised, knowing that busting his balls will get him moving in the direction.
“Shut the fuck up.” He slugs me, but I don’t even feel it. Then he twists around and starts walking in the direction of his father’s whiskey cabinet. “Let’s go drink away your sorrows, fucker,” he slings over his shoulder with a knowing grin, and just like that, I’m already feeling better. Ava and her fucking lies being a distant memory as I swim in a pool of bad choices and enough alcohol to kill myself.
40
Ava
He never came home. Never showed his face back at the house. Forty-eight hours have passed, and I still haven't heard from him. I’ve tried to call him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. I’m starting to wonder if he’s regretting what we did and maybe that’s why he wasn’t coming home. Part of me hopes he didn’t regret it but I’m dumb. I know that whatever is going on between us isn’t anything serious and I’ve come to terms with that fact. I’m probably going to be just another notch on his bedpost. Still, it doesn’t mean he couldn’t come home. This is his house after all. I’m merely an unwanted guest.
“Off to classes?” my mother asks as I enter the kitchen.
“Yup. I’ll be home later. I’m meeting up with a friend for dinner,” I say, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket before making myself a cup of coffee in the Keurig. My mother has been overly peachy lately, her and Henry didn’t even seem to notice a change in my attitude, nor did they seem to care that Vance hasn’t been home.