Shameless

by Maya Rossi

  “Don’t worry,” she throws her medical bag into the passenger seat, “I’ll come really early to help.”

  Automatically, I nod. Then the implication of her words struck home. Working with me means she will get dirty and need a bath. It will involve inviting her into my home and leaving together as a couple to the dance. My voice is firm when I reply, “I’ll be ready when you come. Or I can pick you up?”

  Maddie laughs, her eyes crinkling attractively at the corners. They are a light blue. “You don’t know where I live, do you?” She waves and drives off.

  You don’t know where I live, do you? Why did that sound like a censure?

  Shrugging it off, I head for the left field. The sun is sinking to make way for the night when I realize Olivia and Rick haven’t made an appearance. I head to the water pump to rinse off the dust clinging to the hairs on my hands and face. Clark would have gone crazy by now, running around thinking its play time.

  But he’s with Olivia and Rick. In that moment, I wish I can rewind the clock to a few months before. There was no Rick or Olivia or Maddie asking for a date. My life is simple, moving like clockwork. Rose is alive. Clark is by my side, ensuring my days aren’t too long and the work lighter. A goat bleats, drawing my attention to the present. With a sigh, I trace the source of the sound to the back of the barn. There, alone and calling for her mother is one of Rose’s children. I draw the little goat into my arms and sit on the ground cross-legged.

  All day, I have avoided thinking about last night. Now, with a goat and my mind for company, Olivia rises like a phantom. No, a comforting angel. She held me all night when I lost it. Every second with her is torture, she’s unraveling me like a tailor’s forgotten thread. She’s everywhere, at the barn, the fields, the waterfall, my home.

  After tucking the goat in for the night, head home. Rick and Olivia are seated cross-legged, bonding over orange juice and biscuits on the porch. The man and woman of the manor. The thoughts sends fire to my heart. I complete the remaining chores on automaton, rejecting the irony of resenting their presence when I invited them here.

  Clark runs over to greet me when I approach the porch. Rick looks faintly amused, his thin lips curled in a sneer. My steps falter. What have I done now? Olivia gathers the remains of their snacks and heads inside.

  When I turn back to Rick for an explanation, he raises his glass in greeting. “The prodigal son returns.”

  “There’s nothing prodigal about me.”

  “True.” He takes a sip and grimace. “Don’t tell her orange juice isn’t my thing.”

  “Is she angry or am I projecting?” I ask.

  Rick arches an eyebrow, his eyes filled with speculation and devilment. There’s also a hint of darkness. The last time I saw it was the day we met and the weeks after that. While I’m still playing with the growing suspicion all might not be right in Rick’s world, he laughs.

  “Tell me, did something happen between you two?”

  I straighten, shifting my gaze to Clark. He’s playing with a bit of biscuit Olivia must have plied him with. Since Olivia began living with us, my animals are being pampered with most of them noticeably adding weight.

  “What could possibly happen between us?”

  “You mean apart from her giving you a head that fucked you up --” Rick raised both hands in false apology, “I forget. We shouldn’t be talking about that.”

  “Exactly. It’s over and done with.”

  “Does she know?”

  “Know what?” I ask, exasperated.

  “That it’s over and done with.”

  “Of course.”

  “Why is she jealous then?”

  “Jealous?” My chest grows uncomfortably tight and I rub my hands down the length of my thighs to look nonchalant. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. She’s probably picking out her dress for the bonfire night party.” I laugh awkwardly. “You know how teenagers are.”

  “She’s going for the bonfire night party?”

  “Yes, with Peter.”

  Rick nods. “But I would have loved to be a fly on the wall though, see how Peter managed it. Didn’t know he had it in him.”

  I snort. “Maybe not, I told him to.”

  There’s a beat of silence, like a ticking bomb a second before it goes off, pregnant and heavy. Rick cocks his head to the side, eyes widening in disbelief and pity.

  “You sent Peter to ask Livvy out?”

  “I wanted her to make friends, be with someone her own age --”

  “How dare you?” Olivia stalks around the table, a ball of fury and fire. She slams a glass of my favorite whiskey so hard I’m surprised the glass doesn’t crack. “Because you want me to make friends? Did my mother put you up to this?”

  I’m lost for words, I’ve never seen Olivia this angry. With her lips bared to expose her teeth — a glimmer of white in her dark face, her eyes glittering like jewels, she’s magnificent.

  She slams a hand on the table. “Do you report to mom about my activities? Or is it Richard?”

  Hearing Richard’s name unlocks my tongue. “Of course not. I’ve never spoken to the man, and I only spoke to Lily the day she called to say you were on your way.”

  Not a second too soon, she drops her eyes from mine. I’m finally able to breathe but my heart seize in the next beat as she stares at my mouth like it holds the answers to her question.

  She shakes her head, saying bitterly, “To think I trusted you. With Richard and Dana, I don’t have a place in their house. I don’t exist. With you, I felt safe for the first time in months and you do this?”

  Rick’s eyes moves from Olivia to me and back again like a tennis ball volleyed back and forth between two skilful players. “I wanted to make sure you were alright after — after that night.”

  Olivia props her hand on her hip, her beautiful mouth twisted in an ugly sneer. The overall effect is sexy dangerous. “You mean the night I had your cock in my mouth, that one?”

  I sputter, coughing up words that mean nothing. Worse, Rick falls over laughing. Giving up on having an adequate reply to that, I settle for glaring at my useless friend.

  “Yes, I thought you were someone else, you thought I was someone else, I sucked your cock, I enjoyed myself that night.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “You did too.”

  Her words strike home, landing like blows at the heart of me. I flinch, wishing I can unhear her words. But Olivia is not done.

  “Did we kill someone? Did anyone fucking die?” she screams with so much intensity, spittle flies from her mouth to land on my face. “You know how much control means to me and you fucking took that away from me.”

  Chapter twelve

  If it’s Grif’s intention to go big with the apology, he definitely pulled it off. My gaze drifts to his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. I’m not the type to keep grudges, unless the culprit’s name is Stanton. When I’ve said my mind, I’m done with whatever. But Grif’s eyes are on me constantly since I went loco on him. There’s been a wall of tension between us.

  It happened just yesterday. But when you factor in our strained conversations and his overboard determination to make amends, it feels like a three year feud. Taking me into town to shop for jeans was his idea. It’s borne out of guilt but Rick says it’s a good thing.

  I hate seeing Grif like this, scared, unsure and desperate. It also makes me curious. Has he always been like this or did something happen to inspire this fear he has of meeting new people or going places. I can only hope it’s not one of those conditions with weird sounding names. We hit a pothole, causing the truck to bounce.

  Grif takes his eyes off the road long enough to mutter, “Sorry.”

  If it wasn’t sweet, it would be hilarious. I’m sure he never intended to take me into town himself. He will send Peter or even Rick to go in his place. When he pulled into the small-sized mall, he has to take deep breaths. I’m even more touched he doesn’t attempt to hide his vulnerability from me.


  His hands rests on his thigh, trembling slightly. It’s the size of my two hands multiplied by two and it’s no exaggeration. Tiny, old, healed scars dot the back of his hand. I know his palms are worse off with calluses upon calluses accumulated over years of hard work.

  It will feel amazing against my skin. I know it. I suspects he does too but Grif has a way of remaining determinedly blind to the obvious.

  “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “I shouldn’t act stupid over something as simple as going to the mall, something people do in their sleep.”

  I catch his hand in mine. “I don’t care about other people, I care about you. You didn’t have to do this. When I’ve got things off my chest, I’m done. Really.”

  “I violated your trust,” he says quietly, his green eyes holding mine captive. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s-- I’m fine now,” I managed.

  “I don’t know what Richard has done.” He frowns. “I’m being serious when I say I haven’t spoken to Lily until you decided to come over.”

  “In twelve years?”

  “In twelve years.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s between your mother and me.”

  I nod, but my mind is spinning with this new information. “I’ll ask her,” I warn.

  Grif shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, it’s not my story to tell.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “I hated being compared to Richard. What did he do?”

  “Nothing,” I say. My reply surprises me. And it’s true, Richard hasn’t done anything. Not really. He’s husband to my mother and not my father. Nothing more, nothing less. The problem came from me expecting a father when mom remarried.

  “That’s not unreasonable,” Grif says.

  “He didn’t want that, I suspect he never wanted Dana either.”

  “I would say he shouldn’t have married Lily but she’s a good woman.”

  The description sounds strange and I have no idea why. Many words have been used to qualify mom but ‘good’ is never one of them. Not that mom’s bad, it’s just surprising hearing that from Grif.

  “You must allow me do something for you in return,” I say, reaching for the car door. Grif follows, reluctantly.

  The moment I walk past the first shopper, the whispers begin. It ranges from moron to weirdo and stupid. No wonder Grif hates going into town. The more the whispers trails us, the tighter Grif’s face become. Usually, I love shopping. I like to take my time prowling the aisles and checking out the merchandise.

  Not this time.

  I grab the first two jeans trousers of my size and head for the counter. Grif pulls me back, frowning at the items.

  “You need boots and some t-shirts.”

  “I will wear yours,” I blurt out.

  A woman behind us stiffens and runs out. Others watch suspiciously, even going as far as making the sign of the cross. Grif’s lips turns in a sad twist.

  “Gone to spread the news I’m sure.”

  Since we’re already here, I decide to get everything I need. There’s no way we’ll make this trip again for a long time. I grab bras, jean shorts, boots and some biscuits.

  “You don’t want peanuts?” Grif asks.

  I worry my lower lip, hungry staring at the rows of assorted nuts. “I should be watching my weight.”

  When we approach the check out, Gothic-type teenager around with black lipstick, black eyeliner and faded black on black jeans and shirt flicks me a disinterested look. Her gaze flits to Grif hovering behind me like some mountainous backdrop.

  She doesn’t give the sign of the cross or run off like the others. Instead she perks up, leaning forward over the counter to run a flirty gaze over Grif.

  “You’re big.” Her tongue pokes at her lip ring in a sensual manner. “Did you really kill your twin brother?”

  “Mary!” An elderly matronly woman who looks nothing like Mary came bustling out of from the back. “Git, git, git.” She shoots Grif a warm smile. “That last batch of vegetables were so fresh and sweet, Grif. I’m placing another order right away.”

  “Thank you,” Grif murmurs, barely looking at her.

  “Now,” the woman glares at Mary, “you behave.”

  “Mom,” Mary rolls her eyes, “I’m doing everyone a favor by determining from the source if the rumors bear any truth.” She winks at me. “I’m going to be a journalist some day and win the Pulitzer so I got to start from somewhere.”

  “You don’t look like a Mary,” I say, placing my things on the counter.

  “Tell that to Mama.” She faces Grif, not minding how much attention she’s drawing to us. “Did you really kill your brother?”

  “No, he didn’t. Ring that up, please.”

  Grif leans down, his mouth brushing my ear as he says, “I will go bring the car around.”

  Shivering in reaction, I clamp my hand around his arm before he can move away. His lips kiss the shell of my ear, as he asks, “What?”

  Heat floods my center, gushing like a tap water left on for too long. Completely unaware of the effect he has on me, Grif looks away, saying gruffly, “I’ll stay if you want.”

  Carefully, I uncurl my fingers from his arm. I’m dismayed to see my nails dug deep furrows into his sleeves. “Right. Yeah, I’m good.”

  Grif leaves, and my side immediately feels empty. I sigh and raise my eyes to find Mary watching us with interest. Not just Mary, every Dick and Harry on the queue. Embarrassed, aroused but determinedly unashamed, I glare at the nearest man with his dark judging eyes. “Fuck off.”

  Mary laughs, handing over my things. “You heard her.”

  I stumble outside, eager to escape the oppressive air. No wonder Grif will rather remain in his farm. I’m so intent on reaching Grif and the truck, I almost miss him. He is standing with an elderly woman and a man in their late seventies to early eighties. Taking my phone out, I decide to wait. Then I notice Grif rub his temples, shuffle his feet and hunch his shoulders in quick succession.

  I slip my phone into my pocket and approach them just in time to hear the man say, “Seeing you reminds us of him. Remain in the farm where you belong.”

  Grif’s head drop to his chest. I grab his arm, digging my nails deep into the unyielding muscle. “Grif?”

  “Who’s she?” the woman asks. This close, beneath her all white hair and surprisingly wrinkle-free face, I can see the startling resemble Grif and this woman bear.

  His voice is halting, soft and hesitant. It’s almost as if they’ve sucked the life out of him. “She’s-- she’s Lily’s daughter.”

  My hand drop from Grif’s arm. He makes a noise of distress. The man tsks, taking a step forward to peer into Grif’s down-turned features.

  “You aren’t going to have a panic attack, are you Griffin?”

  At the same time, his mother spits, “You’re still in contact with that slut?”

  “Hey,” I say in warning, “my mom is not a slut.”

  His mother’s expression turns sly. Instinctively, I reach a hand towards Grif, as if to protect him from the incoming danger.

  “What do you call a woman who marries one brother but sleeps with the other and destroys a whole family in the process?”

  “A slut.”

  The old man smirks.

  Chapter thirteen

  “I want him.”

  “Are you sure?” Em curls a strand of her curly brown hair around her forefinger, her familiar face puts me at ease. She is the type of friend to preach caution up to the last minute. She also warned me about Stanton.

  I want her opinion on Grif.

  She pushes her glasses up her nose. “I hope this is not one of those times you ask my opinion just to tick the ‘I think before I act’ box?”

  “It’s nothing like that.”

  “Are you sure you want him?”

  “Yes, I said that first, didn’t I?” I snark, all defensive and already regretting confiding in Emily. Only I needed to talk to someone.

  On screen,
she changes her position, moving to pile some pillow against the headboard so she can rest against it. I straighten, knowing Em is about to drop serious shit.

  “It sounds like,” she chews on her lower lip, hesitating, “it sounds like he’s had people he trusts and loves betray him all his life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His parents, you said they’re awful, right?”