“No.” I stood my ground. “Not this time. I’m tired of running from it.”
She grabbed my wrist, her fingers like frosty ice against my skin. “What. Did. You. Say?”
“Why do you think Tom was up so late that night? Cleaning his gun? I don’t think so.” I laughed through my nose as tears glistened in my eyes. “You really believed in those bullshit lies of his, didn’t you? Couldn’t you see the fear on my face? Hear him slurring? Smell the alcohol? Feel the tension? Are you that out of touch with reality?”
“We’re leaving,” my mother commanded. “Your attempt at making a mockery of this service can be dealt with back home, not in public.”
“No, it can’t and it won’t. I don’t want to talk about this. Not with you. Not ever.” I shook free from her grip. “Besides, you’ve got a reception to attend as a widow, which should be beneficial for your upcoming election. Enjoy.”
“You listen here,” she spoke through bared teeth. “You are coming with me right now.”
Adam stepped between us. “No offense, Mrs. Meyers, but I don’t think she wants to go with you.”
“That’s cute. The beach-dwelling rodent wants to intervene?” Her laughter had a serrated edge to it. “Please, enlighten me with what you have to say.”
Adam balled his fists at his sides repeatedly, his arms shaking.
She jutted her chin upward in an attempt to look down at him from eight inches below his towering frame. “See? The felon can’t even carry an intelligent conversation, let alone a reputable job without the help of a joke like Ty. Just who do you think you are, anyway?”
Adam’s expression was stone cold. “I’m the only person who knows every disgusting word of what happened. Why do you think I got that felony DUI? It took hearing five words of what that fuckwad husband of yours was doing before I burned rubber across town. What did you do?” He shook his head slowly. “That’s right. You went back to bed, a few feet away from what went on with your daughter. All because you had a ‘meeting in the morning with that tool, Harold, as you’d put it.”
Her complexion turned ashy.
“Did my decision to drink and drive backfire? Yes.” The muscles in Adam’s jaw clenched. “For her, I’d have lost it all. Even risked life in prison to stop that shit bag.”
* * *
Roughly Two Years and A Little Over Six Months Ago
“The momster’s gonna kill me.” I angled the key in the moonlight while squinting one eye. My fingers were numb from the sea air, and guiding the key into the hole was like threading a needle in the dark. It was three in the morning, and I’d missed curfew. Again. There were few rules the Brennan/Meyers kids had to abide by, but being late was a doozy. Even as a young adult. That night, intelligence wasn’t in my favor, and I’d stayed out at the bonfire for too long with Madelyn. It was my own fault. I forgot to leave my bedroom window open a fraction of an inch so I could scale the trellis and sneak in undetected.
I opened the door and crept inside, carefully crossing over the floorboard that creaked as loudly as the third porch step. It was pitch black and the heavily cinnamon-scented air was stagnant. Fortunately, I knew the layout with my eyes closed. So, so close to being off the hook.
That night went differently than I envisioned though. The lights flicked on, and I froze mid-step, half-expecting to see my mother wearing curlers and her floral bathrobe with the thick lace on the borders. Thinking back, the feminine colors did little to soften her resting bitch face. But it wasn’t her who waited for me.
“Well, look what the tide washed in,” Tom slurred. “I’ve been waiting to see if you’d show your face before sunrise.”
I turned my head, waiting to focus from the drastic change in lighting. My stepfather sat there with bloodshot eyes, a rosy red nose, and dots of sweat beading his brow. His white tank top was yellowed around the neckline with sweat stains, puffs of gray, scraggly hair curling over the top of it. A near-empty bottle of vodka sat next to him on the table as his latest drinking companion—alongside his pistol.
As the years went on throughout my childhood, the liquor cabinet had become a swift, revolving door for every type of alcohol imaginable. I called it the “no bottle left behind” act. Every time the cupboard was fully stocked, he’d walk through the door a short while later with three more brown bags to refill what he’d polish off that night and the next. Throw in the gun rack perched next to it, and things were bound to get messy, if not lethal. I almost had enough money saved up to skip town, but knowing Daveigh and Finn still lived at home held me back. Someone had to protect them from the alcohol-induced yelling. The post-gambling loss rages. The drunken swings at inanimate objects.
“Oh. Hey, Tom.” I glanced at the cuckoo clock and cringed. Yep, it was still a little after three, and I had no justifiable excuse. “I guess I lost track of time tonight. Sorry.”
He motioned to the chair across from him with the top of the bottle. “Have a seat.”
Sitting around with my drunken stepfather on any night wasn’t on my bucket list. A lie needed to manifest. Fast. “Work scheduled me at nine this morning, so I should head up to bed.” I stifled a fake yawn.
“Come on. No one should have to drink alone.” His beady eyes had trouble focusing, and I knew “no” wasn’t going to be an acceptable answer.
“Um. Okay,” I said slowly as I walked over to the table and sat down, knowing the repercussion from my mother would be worse if I argued. Her highness was a beast if awakened from her beauty rest.
He poured a sloppy shot, the clear liquid sloshing over the side before he downed it, slamming the glass onto the table. The staccato sound punctuated the silence. “Man, that’s good stuff. So, how was your night?”
“It was…good.” I jammed my hands in the pockets of my hoodie.
“Good is…good,” he stretched out the words awkwardly before refilling the glass, nudging it across the table to where I sat. “Have one.”
Goosebumps inched up my spine and tiptoed down my arms. “I…I’m not twenty-one yet. I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” He rolled his eyes and made a raspberry sound with his mouth. “I’ve seen you down at The Fpill & Sill,” he corrected himself with a chuckle, “Fill & Spill with your friends and your fake license. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
It was a new level of drunk, even for Tom. There was no doubt his liver was permanently pickled. When I’d forgotten to lock my bedroom window the last time, I’d snuck in through the front door and found him passed out, face-down on the kitchen floor. Stepping over his unconscious body was my preferred version of him.
He pushed away from the table, shoving his chair backward in a grandiose gesture. The feet noisily scooted across the floor. His arm swung forward and knocked over the capped bottle, causing the glass to rattle as it rolled across the tabletop. Silence loomed again as Tom stumbled until he stood behind me. “Drink up.”
I didn’t dare turn around. The silence was thick. Suddenly, I’d become very aware we were the only two in the room, and the hairs on the back of my neck raised. My eyes remained on that shot glass, panic captivating me from looking up. The worn Las Vegas emblem in red and yellow was my only focus. “No. If she finds out, she’ll…” I tried to stand up, but his hands forcefully pushed down on my shoulders until I was seated again.
Trapped.
He leaned over me from behind, bracing either side of the table with his hands. A whiff of stale vodka struck my nose at the same time his hot breath hit my ear. “No one has to know except for us.”
Terror paralyzed my limbs. We were no longer talking about a simple shot. The conversation had taken a turn I couldn’t have anticipated. “Tom…”
“Come on. We’re not blood-related. That makes what’s about to happen so, so right.” His right hand left the lip of the table and his palm met my thigh
, fingers splayed wide as they moved toward the zipper on my jeans, fumbling for the pull tab. “We both know you want this.”
My heart zoomed in my chest, my arms refusing to function. Fear ruled me as I fought to catch my breath. I tried to determine if there were a way I could be misconstruing his actions. Any remote possibility at all. It had to be a mistake. My brain didn’t want to believe what was actually happening. Was his hand really on me? It was unchartered, revolting, vile territory. “Tom, please.”
“Yeah. Beg,” he whispered as the entirety of his tongue greeted the side of my neck, licking upward like a starving man taking charge of a melting ice cream cone. “I like that.”
My lip quivered and nausea filled my stomach. “Stop.”
The argument as to why I didn’t fight back was strong. And if you hadn’t lived it, you wouldn’t understand. If I made the wrong move, he’d snap into one of his famous rages. I was accustomed to Tom’s everyday hostility and knew how to deal with that. The swearing. The wall punches. The threats. Differentiating factors that night included his intentions and a .45 lying on the table. Those were major game changers.
I’d spoken too soon about the pistol. His left hand reached for the gun, and he dragged it across the table, the sound of metal scraping across the wood drawing out the moment before he spun it in his hand three times, nearly dropping the piece twice. It was no longer sitting idle, another dynamic in not retaliating.
Blood whooshed in my ears, potent adrenaline surging through my veins. I wondered how much longer it’d take before he killed me, whether it was on accident or on purpose. Every fiber of my being told me both to scream and not to.
“You sure you don’t want that drink before we have a little fun?” He raised the gun until the cold muzzle was pressed against my jaw, my head forced upward to look at the popcorn texture on the ceiling. A click. He’d cocked it. “Anticipation feels good, doesn’t it? I’ll bet your panties are nice and wet,” he said.
Much to my surprise, I was still alive. But my options were narrowing. Would he actually pull the trigger? Could he go through with it if I shot down his advances? Pun intended. With my hands already in my pockets, I gripped my cell phone tight in a last-ditch effort, my fingers feeling around for the number two key. Madelyn. She was awake. Her dad was a cop, and they only lived one street over. He would help me. I held it down for three seconds and let go, praying the call would connect. I just hoped she’d answer and could hear the intention behind my words.
“Take your hands off me. I don’t want this, Tom,” I swallowed, enunciating carefully.
“Shhhh…you don’t want to wake your brother and sister, do you? How would this look to them?” He brushed my hair out of my face before dragging the barrel of the gun down toward my zippered cleavage. “Your mouth says, ‘no’, but your eyes are moaning, ‘Tom, yes’.” His hand greeted my crotch, rubbing, grabbing, squeezing. Jeans and underwear were the only layers separating him from violating me further. “Try to deny it. Beg me for your life, Blue. I want to hear you say I’m in control.”
Fuck. That’s what it was all about. Control. My mother held all of it and Tom was left with nothing. It’d been that way for years. So, he drove the evening toward what would hurt Elana most, giving him the satisfaction and attention he’d craved.
“You’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re saying. Put the gun down,” I pleaded with fear in my voice. “Get off me.”
He laughed. “I get it. So, that good for nothing delinquent down at the beach is good enough for you to fuck, but I’m not?” He grabbed my breast and twisted hard, causing me to yelp in pain.
A surge of bravery took hold, and I knew what was about to happen if I didn’t save myself. With a growl, I shoved him away and forced myself to my feet, but he was bigger and stronger. Halfway between sitting and standing, he’d managed to lift me up and contort my body, slamming me down against the table. Hard. Stars exploded behind my eyes as my skull connected with the surface. I struggled against his hands as he pawed angrily at my clothes. One of his meaty thighs was pinned between mine and my hands were suddenly restrained over my head. Both were firm reminders I wasn’t going anywhere. I’d been forced into a ninety-degree angle with my back flat against the glossy wood.
The metallic sound of his belt buckle unfastening with one hand repulsed me while his other squeezed both of my wrists together. His grip was so tight, I was positive the bones would break. Looming over me, a sinister smile spanned his face as he unbuttoned my jeans while I squirmed, exhausting myself. His firm erection was pressed against my leg, and tears spilled down my face.
“Let me show you what a real man can do with his—”
One of the doors opened upstairs. “What on earth is going on down there? It sounds like a bar fight.”
In a sense, she was right.
The stairs creaked.
Tom jumped into a nearby chair and grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, turning his focus to polishing the gun. “Nothing, Elana. Cleaning my .45. Go back to bed.”
I scrambled off the table and backed away toward the door, my heart thumping wildly.
My mother’s frame appeared, her eyes squinting into the brightly-lit room. “Blue? Why are you up? It’s nearly four in the morning.”
“I…” I glanced at Tom. “I was just leaving. Got up early. Work. In an hour. Big catering thing.”
“Weren’t you wearing those clothes yesterday?” She scanned me from head to toe.
I looked down and answered quickly, “Nope.”
“I thought I heard someone breaking in, so I came down to check it out,” Tom mumbled, shooting me a dirty look. “Turns out, it was Blue baiting me.”
I knew his words held more than one meaning, and I was one hundred percent certain I’d never given him any inclination I was interested. Tom sickened me and had for as long as I could remember. Avoiding him had always been paramount, not enticing him.
“Well, keep it down.” Elana frowned before she slogged back up the stairs. “Some of us have a useless meeting with that tool, Harold, in the morning we need to be rested for.”
That was my chance. I used the next three-second window to my advantage and bolted for the front door, my hands shaking so hard as I worked the lock and the handle. Without looking back, I leapt into my car, and peeled out of the driveway. Freedom, but not really. Half a mile down the road, I pulled over and grabbed my cell phone from my pocket.
Regret filled me when I looked at the screen. I’d been so stupid.
“Damn it.” My heart sank at my mistake. What I thought was a call to Madelyn, wasn’t after all. Not by far. While fumbling for the speed dial in my pocket, I accidentally called my boyfriend—number three, not number two. The line to Adam had been disconnected after ten minutes. That meant he’d heard everything. It also meant a death sentence for Tom. With quaking fingers, I tried calling him five times with no answer.
“No. No!” For the next hour, I rested my head on the steering wheel and cried, unsure of where to go or who to turn to. I no longer wanted Madelyn’s father’s help…or anyone’s for that matter. All I wanted was to forget that night happened.
Home was no longer a comfort. It wasn’t always perfect, not by any means. But over twenty years of safety and security of living there had been destroyed in a single ten-minute exchange. The next day, I moved out to the mother-in-law house, vowing to never step foot in the same room as my stepfather again. That was an oath I’d kept.
* * *
Blinking brought me back to the present. I was in the passenger seat of Adam’s truck as we passed by The Lean, Mean Coffee Bean with no recollection of how I got there.
“You’re quieter than I remember,” he said.
“A lot to think about, I guess.”
“I’ll bet. A baby’s a game changer.”
“Huh?” I said.
“You’re pregnant. And frankly, I’m disappointed.”
“You are?” Butterflies flitted in my stomach, a feeling I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
“How could I not be? You know better than to get shitfaced at the bar, and—”
“Oh, that. I’m not really pregnant,” I cut him off.
He shook his head, stealing a glance my way. “Don’t lie to me about this.”
“I’m not lying. Daveigh’s the one who’s knocked up, and I had to cover for her. If you want, I’ll piss on a stick for you right now.”
“As appealing as that sounds on a Wednesday, I’ll pass,” he said.
“I’m serious. Stop at the dollar store. I’ll prove it.”
He looked at me as he slowed at a stop light. “So, you’re not…Cash didn’t…”
“Hell no,” I replied quickly. From the corner of my eye, I swore Adam let out a sigh of relief.
I let a few minutes tick by before I spoke again. “Did you really beat the shit out of Tom in The Fill & Spill parking lot?”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment at a stop sign. “Blue, I don’t want to dredge up ancient history. Can’t we let some things go?”
“Sure, but this isn’t one of them.” I adjusted my position in the seat until I faced him. “Did you, or didn’t you?”
He let out a sigh as he pulled into the momster’s driveway, putting the truck in park. A full minute passed by, but his line of vision remained straight ahead. “It was about a month after you took off, and I was in a bad place mentally. I’d just quit Mario’s and started working for your uncle. A truck with a delivery of windows t-boned a Mercedes on Third and Olive. The delivery guy had a suspended license. Ultimately, I was responsible because I’d charged that job out to him. Long story short, it was a rookie mistake. To top it off, my girlfriend left town. I had nothing going for me.”
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