I remember when we were ten years old, Eva and I begged our parents to let us have separate birthday parties. We were so adamant about it that they decided to listen, consider and allow us to convince. By the time we were done talking, we managed to strike somewhat of a deal with them. There would be one birthday party, as always, but Eva and I would take turns picking the theme. By the time we turned fifteen, I’d lost interest in birthday parties altogether. Even though it was technically our birthday, the party was for the birthday girl. I usually didn’t hang around.
But this year was different. The birthday party would be overshadowed by the graduation party. Something that would be more of an event than anything else. Anyone who was anyone would be invited. And unlike all the other times, where they would let the kids be kids and pretend not to know about all the underaged drinking, I was sure they’d actually take part. They were looking for something to celebrate, and I couldn’t really blame them.
The last few months had been hard on everybody, to say the least. After Eva’s accident, everybody’s life changed. Even now, shaking the image of her in that bed, was hard. All battered and bruised, Eva was hooked up to more machines than I cared to count. There was so much beeping, so many times where doctors had to rush in, wheel her out while their hands pushed and pushed against her chest. We thought we were going to lose her. Scratch that, we were fucking sure Eva was going to die. I’d never been angrier and sadder and more lost than I was in that moment. But Eva lived, and in the end, I guess that’s all that really mattered.
Life still wasn’t the same now. Of course, it wasn’t. And I think most of us had come to terms with the fact that it was never going to be. Eva’s physical therapy wasn’t going as well as we had hoped and the likelihood of her spending the rest of her life in a wheelchair seemed to grow with each passing week. The stress had put a strain on everybody, and it felt like forever since we were all genuinely happy.
The worst part was that the one person I wanted to run to; the person I needed right now was the one person I couldn’t have.
“Hey, what do you think?”
Eva rolled into my bedroom and pulled herself up as much as she could from her wheelchair. The dress she wore was a beautiful floor-length gown. It hugged her delicate waist and fell to the floor in a cascade of lightweight crepe with shimmering butterflies woven into the fabric. It looked gorgeous on her, as did just about everything she donned.
“I can’t decide on what shoes to wear. I mean…heels are obviously out of the question. I want to at least be able to stand up for part of the night,” she said, a hint of sadness burrowing its way into her eyes. She blinked and the sadness was removed from the surface, though I knew for certain that it still remained hidden behind her walls. Most of the time, Eva was good at pretending. Pretending that she was okay, pretending that she was happy, pretending that optimism still existed in her.
“No matter what you wear, you will look great,” I said and smiled.
I know all brothers are supposed to say stuff like that at times like this, but in Eva’s case it was true. She was like a Barbie doll who had been brought to life. We were both blonde with blue eyes, but her eyes had always been a sparkling, iridescent blue. And her hair was like golden silk while mine was more like molten brass. She had always been particular about her looks, slathering herself in sunscreen every day from the time we were thirteen, and swearing off fried foods when she read that they caused breakouts. In fact, until her accident, she had never had a scar or a blemish anywhere on her body. Now, even though she was riddled with them, she was still beautiful.
“Thanks, big bro,” she said, slumping back into her wheelchair. She took a deep breath, though trying not to make a show of just how exhausted that little bit of movement had made her. “Have you handed out all of your invitations yet?”
“Uh, yeah. Almost everybody said they could make it.”
“Great! It will be nice to have one big party for the both of us again, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. Admittedly, there wasn’t much oomph in my voice.
She frowned. Try as I might, I could never hide what I was really feeling from her.
“I know not everybody will be there, but all the people who matter the most will be there, right?”
We shared a long and meaningful silence. We both knew who was missing and why.
I looked at my beautiful sister, teetering on her legs and I felt like my heart was ripping in half. I wished I could fix her. I wished I could have prevented the accident from happening. Maybe if I hadn’t brought Anna with me that night then things would have been different. A part of me blames myself, even though I know that’s a silly thing to do. But the fact of the matter was, Anna didn’t even want to be at that fucking party. She had been complaining that she needed to study anyway. It was my idea to go to the party. It was my idea to drive a very drunk Ricky back to his dad’s place so he didn’t try to drive himself. It was me who left Anna behind. If I had still been at the fucking party instead of stuck in traffic…
There was no use in entertaining those thoughts now. Ever since the accident, I’ve shouldered all the blame I could manage without crumbling. What happened, happened and no amount of wishing would make it different.
I forced a smile and nodded. “Don’t worry about it,” I said and reached out to her to tuck a wayward hair behind her ear. “It’ll be great, and you will be the belle of the ball, as you always are.”
Eva blushed and rolled her eyes at me. “Did you pick up your suit?”
I shook my head.
“Yeah, I still gotta do that.” And I was dreading it. Picking up my suit meant driving by Anna’s house. It meant going into town and walking by all of the places where we used to go. It meant admitting that she was really not a part of my life anymore. The thought turned my mood sour and I felt like I needed to escape before I lost it.
“I know you don’t like wearing ties-”
“It’s not that, Eva. I really don’t like getting all dressed up to impress people who don’t matter all that much to me. I don’t really care for half of these people and most of us will lose contact after we graduate anyway.”
A hint of sadness filled Eva’s eyes. “What do you mean? They’re our friends.” At moments like this, I couldn’t tell if she was willfully ignorant or just incredibly naive.
“I’m just saying that most of the guests are here to support you, not me. Nobody will give a damn if I have on a new suit or not. It really is your night, so enjoy it.”
“We will, I promise,” she said in that way that made me know that no matter what I said, she’d find a way to pull the conversation back into a field that made it seem like this party was for ‘us’.
She sucked in a breath and shook her head before wrapping her arms around mine. Leaning on my shoulder for support, she smiled up at me as if everything was right in her world. And maybe it was, for her. At least, I hoped so.
“I gotta go,” I said and helped her to get settled properly into her wheelchair before placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Like you said, I need to get my suit and I was thinking about picking up some ice cream on my way back.”
“Ooh, Butter Pecan for me, please.”
“Sure thing, kiddo.”
It was so easy to please her that I actually felt guilty for being annoyed by her innocence and naivete. She didn’t have a mean bone in her body. She was always nice to everybody. She did charity work, even build a damn home for the homeless one summer. So how in the hell did somebody like her end up in a fucking wheelchair? What kind of god would allow that to happen?
I suppose it was a good thing that she couldn’t remember the accident. I wouldn’t want her reliving that trauma over and over again. But that still left me with so many questions and unresolved issues. The one thing I knew was that the only other person who could tell me exactly what happened that night was not telling me the truth.
I couldn’t forgive her for that.
I pulled into the mall parking lot and parked my car near the food court. The tailor’s shop was on the same level which, in a sense, was a blessing. It meant I didn’t need to trek through the entire mall in order to grab ice-cream.
Without wasting any time, I hopped out of the vehicle, slammed the door and made my way toward the shop. When I walked through the door, the same guy who had taken my measurements rushed over to greet me.
“Mr. Randt, your sister called and said you would be on your way. We have your suit ready and waiting for you. Would you like to try it on before you take it home?”
I shrugged. “I guess. Though, it’s a little too late to make more changes even if it doesn’t fit,” I said.
“It’s never too late,” he assured me with a toothy smile that made me at least a little uncomfortable. His wire-framed glasses made him look like a human fly as he watched me take the garment bag into the dressing room.
I changed clothes as quickly as I could manage and stepped out of the stuffy dressing room and made my way to the back of the room where a wall of mirrors threw my reflection back at me. The tailor stood behind me, still smiling and rubbing his hands together.
“How does it feel?”
I rolled my shoulders back and took a few steps. I wasn’t really sure how it was supposed to feel, but nothing was pinching, and I didn’t feel like my nads were wrapped in an ACE bandage.
“Why don’t you take it for a proper walk and see how it moves,” said creepy suit guy, bowing slightly at the waist and sweeping one hand in a wide arch. My mom said he had “old world” manners. I was sure he watched too many Robin Hood remakes, but I complied, walking through the shop in my new suit and stocking feet.
Catching a few more glimpses of myself in the mirrors stationed around the shop, I had to admit that the suit looked great. I looked older, and perhaps even more graceful as I moved. Which was at odds with how I felt.
I stopped and looked at the man staring back at me in the mirror. He didn’t really resemble the dumb kid I knew I was. He wasn’t a wreck. He wasn’t powerless. He wasn’t riddled with guilt and anger. In fact, he didn’t seem lost at all. I was beginning to like this suit a lot more. Maybe if I never had to take it off, I could actually become the guy I saw in the mirror.
“The suit looks really fabulous on you, Mr. Randt,” said creepy suit guy. “So much so that it seems as though you’ve already picked up a few admirers.”
I looked over my shoulder to see who he was referring to and found myself making eye contact with… Anna. She was holding a pretzel and a large bag from the Discovery Store. Knowing her, she’d just bought more stuff for some project that she was working on. She and Eva were both in advanced placement classes and they were both forever buying supplies for elaborate projects.
She looked as shocked to see me as I was to see her. She gave me a small nod, the corner of her lip threatening to turn up into a smile. I wanted her to smile at me so bad it made my chest hurt. But she wouldn’t. She hated me now, and I couldn’t blame her. I hated her too.
Before she had a chance to change her mind about that smile, I gave her the finger and a dirty look. She flinched and then walked away.
“That’s right, keep walking, fucking stalker,” I said to nobody in particular. I didn’t mean it. I knew I didn’t, but I couldn’t seem to help it anymore. Hating her was more of a habit than a feeling.
She was the reason life sucked.
She crippled my sister.
She lied to me.
To this day she hadn’t told the truth about what happened the night of the accident. And the worst part was that the investigation into the accident kept running into roadblocks. Apparently we can get satellite images of the Albanian President picking his damn nose, but two teenage girls go careening down an embankment and smash into a tree and nobody has any fucking idea how it happened.
All of this felt like a horrible nightmare. Our whole relationship felt like a sham. And yet, when Anna looked at me, I couldn’t help but want to go over to her and hold her just like I had done many times before. I wanted to tell her everything was going to be fine. I wanted to tell her that Eva would be fine, and things would go back to normal. But, none of that was true. It was likely that Eva would never be able to walk or run again. Likely that she would be stuck in a damn wheelchair for the rest of her life. And even if that weren’t the case, even if by some whiff of magic, Eva got better, things between Anna and I would never be the same, again. Not after all this.
I marched back to the dressing room and snatched the suit off, stuffing it into the garment bag.
“What do I owe you?” I asked and handed the clerk my credit card without bothering to listen to the answer. He rang it up and handed me the receipt. I stuffed it in the bag and left without another word. My mood had been soured and I didn’t need to rub it off on anyone else.
I made my way through the mall, building up speed as I journeyed on. I didn’t want to run the risk of being spotted by somebody I knew and being forced to stop for a chat. I just wanted to get back to the house and have mom steam this fucking suit. Make her happy. Make my sister happy. Pretend that I was doing just fucking fine.
Focus. One foot in front of the other. That’s how I had made it through every day since the accident. That’s how I was going to get through this day too.
Chapter 5
Before the accident
Sometimes turning a blind eye to the truth is the only thing you can do. Pot odds exist, and I’m in too fucking deep to just turn my back on my relationship with Damon. I have feelings involved. Not to mention my pride and my reputation. The last thing I’m willing to do is become the laughingstock of anybody. Not on my watch. As a matter of fact, not ever. Not by him. And definitely not by her.
I wait by the little cubby area separating the janitor’s closet from visibility, keeping a trained eye on Damon and that little whore, Angelique. He’s whispering something in her ear, telling her pretty little lies, no doubt. She giggles and nods, holding the tendrils of her skirt as though she has to force them to stay down.
The dark side of me contemplates slinking out into the parking lot before any of them can see me. Waiting for her to come outside and oh so accidentally back my vehicle over her once and then twice, enough to make the kind of dent in her skull that she will never come back from. My family – humble as they might appear – has enough pull in this city to help me cover it up. That is, if anyone were to ever figure out that it’s not an accident. Am I murderer? Well, no one’s really a murderer until they’ve gutted their first victim. But everyone has the potential to be, given the right circumstances. And the circumstances have never felt more right.
The sound of feet traveling pulls my attention back to the present. I flick my eyes in the direction of Damon and the whore, just in time to see the shit eating grin that spreads across his face as he watches her walk away. They’re trying to be cautious, but of course, they’re too stupid to properly cover their asses. Come to think about it, maybe I wouldn’t mind running my car over the both of them. But, I’d be the weeping, not quite widow which would only make people pity me. And I don’t do well with pity.
Careful as I can manage, I inch out of the corner and toward a classroom where I pull the door open and slam it, in order to get Damon’s attention. I opened up my backpack on the way over here. With one quick flick of my wrist, I allow my books to go tumbling to the floor with a loud crash.
“Fuck,” I mutter, loud enough for Damon to hear me, “as if this day couldn’t get any worse.”
“Eva?”
I flick my eyes to him, and put on my best performance. My mouth parts, forming an ‘O’ of faux shock. “Damon? What are you still doing here?”
>
His eyes leave mine just briefly, to check the hallway. He’s looking to see if Angelique is still out of our line of sight. She is. He thinks that makes him lucky. Thinks that it means I didn’t see them together. Of course, I’m all here for the pretenses and so I don’t bust his balls. After all, it’s not really him I’m going to ruin. I haven’t figured it out just yet, but Angelique will get what’s coming to her.
“The better question is, what are you doing here?” he asks, before rushing to help me gather my things. I’m never the one to hang around after school – places to be, things to do, and all that.
“I…I’m not really in a rush to get home,” I tell him and watch as his brows furrow. He doesn’t ask ‘why’, though. Damon has never been the type to pry, at least not when it comes to me. Maybe that’s a sign that I should get rid of him. There’s still time to spin the end of this relationship in my favor, make it seem as though I left him and come up with a damn good reason why. A reason that would make him look bad. Cheating isn’t it. Cheating makes me look like I’m not good enough. And if he so much as blinks at Angelique for anyone to see, heaven knows, the entire school will be whispering about how Damon did me dirty with that tramp.
“My mom and dad are going through some things,” I add and swipe at the tears I’ve managed to squeeze out of my eyes. If all else fails, Hollywood will do well with having a talent like mine.
“Are you okay?”
The idiot. Does it look like I’m okay? “I mean…I will be. They’re going to counseling and all that, but...I’m not sure if what’s wrong with them is something that can be fixed.” I pick myself up from the floor and allow Damon to take my backpack.
He fixes a strap over his shoulder. “They seemed happy the last time I was there,” Damon says.
“You know how it is,” I retort, “Just because something seems one way, doesn’t mean it isn’t the complete opposite. On the outside…” I let him finish the statement in his mind. He knows all about being deceptive, after all. The bastard is nothing like my father. Nothing at all. I used to think that’s a good thing. Now, I’m not so sure.
Filthy Pride: Dark Bully Romance Page 3