I turned in my seat until I faced away from him, blinking rapidly. “Please, everyone. Let’s hear your opinions on Cash. I’m sure each of you has one.”
Adam grabbed two legs of my chair and yanked, adjusting it to where I’d have no choice but to listen to the mounting rumble of his voice. “You suddenly want my two cents on Cash Jensen? That’s doubtful.” Adam poured a shot of whiskey and threw it back, grimacing before he set the glass on the table.
Lucy snickered, honing in on our dialogue. “Funny, Adam. I see what you did there. Cash. Cents.”
I kicked her under the table. “Don’t encourage him.”
Lucy looked confused. “What? It was funny?”
I stood up. “I need to pee.”
“No, you don’t.” Adam grabbed my arm to stop me. “In fact, I’ll bet there are a lot of topics you don’t want my opinion about.”
“Like what?” I spat.
He stood up, looming over me until our bodies nearly touched. The smell of alcohol on his breath rivaled the anger stirring behind his eyes. “Walk away, Blue. Get out of here. I don’t think you want to hear everything I have to say.”
“Try me,” I replied hoarsely.
He sat back down and counted on his fingers, his voice intensifying, “First off, let’s talk about their names. Who the hell names their kids Price and Cash? Let me guess, they have an aunt and uncle named Rich and Penny?” Adam laughed.
“Penny’s his sister, and Richard prefers to be called Dick!” I retorted without thinking.
“I’ll bet he does.” Adam snorted.
Damn it. I’d made it worse.
“Oh, shit!” Lucy hooted and smacked the table with the palm of her hand. “It’s hilarious because it’s true.”
“Look.” I rubbed my face and grabbed my tote bag. “I’ve had enough of this whole pick on Blue event I didn’t sign up for. It’s been great, but I’m leaving now.”
Without another word, I stormed toward the exit and let the door slam shut behind me. I tried to put in the effort of being with my siblings one last time, but I’d somehow fucked that up too. Maybe I was meant to be a loner. Isolation wouldn’t be judgmental. A blast of wind socked me in the face while I walked to the far corner of the building. The ground welcomed me as I sat down, the cold, wet pavement seeping through my jeans. None of it mattered. I drew my knees up under my chin and wrapped my arms around my knees. The harsh reality of the evening being abysmal took hold as it fought the constant, constricting ache in my chest.
A few minutes later, the door to The Fill & Spill opened, a momentary burst of loud music, laughter, and honey-tinted lights escaping before it creaked shut again. Without looking, I knew who stood twenty feet away and closed in on the distance between us.
“What do you want now?” I grumbled.
Adam sat down next to me on the cement with a groan. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Ha-ha. No more Cash jokes tonight. Please?”
Elongated quiet permeated the air.
He let out a deep breath. “Fair enough. Truce?”
With defeat saturating me, I waited for the punchline, the smirk, or the asshole remark. But they didn’t happen. Only an outstretched hand was present. “What are you doing?”
“Someone once told me, it’s called a handshake. They’re commonly used in greeting or to finalize an agreement.” He paused before finishing what were once my words to him. “I thought it could be a fresh start.”
I bit my lip and hesitated, shaking my head. “I don’t think we—”
“Got it.” He pulled back abruptly, his tone icing over. “Message received, loud and clear. You know, I’ve got no damn idea how to read you anymore.”
“I know.” My eyes shut before I braved extending a sweaty hand. Each second felt like eternity while my heart begged me to run. Fast. I’d promised myself to never be in a position to be hurt again. But there I sat, the fortress beginning to fracture and splinter.
His palm met mine gingerly and I flinched. Adam’s touch was more painful than I imagined. Flashes and flickers of past filled my head; I couldn’t breathe.
“Tell me what you’re thinking. Let me in,” he said.
“I don’t remember how.”
* * *
Roughly Two Years and A Little Over Six Months Ago
“Fuckity fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I closed the heavy door to the house and braced myself against it. My heart thudded in my throat as I tried to swallow it back down, nearly choking on the damn thing. Calm down, Blue. Everything will be fine. The pep talk didn’t last more than two seconds before panic mode set in again. “Mom?” I shouted.
Nothing.
“Shit.” I paced the darkened living room, thoughts bouncing through my head like a pinball machine. It was my fault, and I needed to find a solution. Fast. The problem was I couldn’t do it on my own. My hands were sweaty as I rubbed them on the back of my jeans; I felt sick. How could this happen?
“Well, it’s about time. We’re late. You need to wear the navy Versace dress with the Gucci heels,” a stern voice sounded from the top of the stairs.
The shiver began when I heard her descending the steps. As always, the icy sensation started at the base of my spine and clambered up to my neck, rendering me unable to breathe in a normal pattern. I was about to enter the lion’s den. The momster appeared, wearing a sensible, black pencil skirt, matching heels, and a white button-up blouse. A single strand of pearls completed her bland outfit. Her chestnut hair was cut into a dated bob, not a strand out of place. It did nothing to combat her valleys of frown lines or soften her expression.
Often, I’d wondered what it’d be like to have a normal mother. One who wasn’t obsessed with politics. One who cared about her kids’ interests. One who knew how to cook without burning water. One who didn’t pay off the high school principal to handle fudging test scores, ensuring 4.0 GPAs.
“Blue,” her shoulders wilted as she brushed imaginary dust off mine, “why aren’t you dressed appropriately? Flannel is for lumberjacks.”
“I like this shirt.” I glanced down at the red plaid pattern.
She lifted one of my limp curls with one hand and tilted my chin upward with the other. “You need an appointment at the salon, yesterday. And a full makeover isn’t a bad idea either. We have an image to uphold.”
“No, you have an image to uphold.” I swatted her hand away. “Mom, we need to talk.”
She fished around in her purse until she found a tube of frosty pink lipstick. It was less than fascinating to watch her apply layer after layer of the pasty mess. “Can’t it wait? You know I have a luncheon with the head of the education board today. A luncheon that you’re supposed to attend as my devoted daughter.”
“I need your help.”
She slid the top on the lipstick slowly until it clicked. “With what? You know this is a busy time of year with the election approaching.”
“There’s this guy I’ve been seeing for a while now, and—”
“Dear God. Are you pregnant? My ratings can’t handle a teen being knocked up, let alone the abortion I’d have to pay—”
“Mom! No!”
“Did he rape you? Rob you? Hit you?”
“No, no, and no.”
She set the tube down on the table. “Then, it can wait.”
“I really don’t think this can.”
She huffed. “What? What is the pressing issue then?”
I took a deep breath. “He was arrested and—”
“What?” she shrieked. “Do you know the ramifications this could have on whether I win or not?”
“This isn’t about you.”
“Who is worth damaging my reputation?”
I was quiet.
She arched an eyebrow, awaiti
ng an answer.
“Adam Rockwell,” I replied quietly.
She scrunched her nose. “That…that deviant who lives in the shack on the beach?”
“Come off it. He’s not a deviant, and it’s not a shack. That house was left to him by his grandfather when he died.”
“I don’t want you hanging around that hoodlum or his dilapidated house. Rumor has it his parents disowned him. I can only imagine what foul behaviors of his warranted that type of banishment.”
I felt anger simmering in my veins. “He emancipated himself when he was sixteen because his dad beat the shit out of him on a weekly basis and his mom preferred heroin to feeding her kid. His parents didn’t even show up at the court hearing.”
“My tax dollars hard at work again in some way, I’m sure.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “And he was arrested for what?”
“DUI,” I muttered.
“A DUI? That’s a felony!” Her eyes bulged as she threw her arms in the air. “My opponent will have a flipping heyday if he knows you had any involvement...” She froze. “Does anyone else know about this…blip in your judgment?”
“It’s not a blip, but you’re close. It rhymes. Relationship. You can say the R-word. It won’t bite.”
“Oh, no it doesn’t. Not my daughter.”
“It does. And no, no one knows. We both work at Mario’s, and we didn’t want it to get weird with the rules on employees dating.”
“Good.”
“What’s ‘good’ about this? They’re holding him. He’s going to be given a year in prison. You know how strict the rules are around here. Can’t you pull some strings?”
Her laughter was condescending. “Me? Pull strings? It’s a waste. He could’ve killed someone.”
Little did she know it was my life in danger that night, no one else’s.
I gritted my teeth. “Was what he did right? No. But he did it to protect me. In turn, I need you to protect him.”
“He protected you from what? Alcoholics Anonymous?”
I swallowed. It was time to take the lion head-on with my bare hands, but I’d chickened out as quickly as I’d attained my courage. “When your…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, telling her about what Tom did to me. It was too difficult to relive. Saying the words out loud would make it real all over again.
“Look.” Her expression was stern. “The election is months away…”
“Fuck the election, Elana! That’s all you ever talk about, I swear. It’s more important than Daveigh or Finn. Or even me.”
The conversation didn’t sway; the most important topic was still evident in her eyes. “Is that what it’s going to take to make your tantrum go away and for you to go get dressed? This lunch is important, and I’m running out of time for your shenanigans!”
“You tell me,” I replied. “You have friends in high places, and I need help.”
I’d never used my mom’s location on the political ladder as leverage, until that moment. But I was willing to do whatever it took to keep Adam safe.
Her glare was toxic as she looked at her watch. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”
I locked eyes with hers and shook my head left and right.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ll see what I can do, but you’re not going to see or talk to that trash receptacle again. And if I even catch you breathing his name before the election? I’ll be sure he’s given the harshest sentence possible. With no soap-on-a-rope available. Don’t forget I can make it happen. Judge Bledsoe and I are close friends.”
* * *
When I tried to pull back, Adam’s grip firmed while his thumb caressed the top of my hand. “Blue…”
It was too much. I yanked away. “Your turn. What are you thinking about?” my voice hitched as I fought to change the subject with glassy tears in my eyes.
He leaned against the wall, tilting his head back against the worn brick. “Part of me is anxiously counting down the days until you leave Steele Falls again.”
I sucked my lower lip into my mouth for a few seconds. “And the other part?”
He took his time in turning to look at me. “The other part of me knows if I don’t fight for—”
Tires squealing.
Engine revving.
Black and red blur whizzing.
Car door slamming.
“Blue?” a familiar voice sounded from across the street in the vacant gravel lot. Something about the situation didn’t make sense. The masculine voice I knew didn’t match the sleepy town. And then it dawned on me.
Fuck my life.
I looked at who stood outside an ostentatious red-and-black Ferrari, my fears confirmed. He set the alarm before leaving it behind. “Shit,” I muttered, watching in horror. This isn’t happening.
“Blue? Are you hurt?” he called out. “Are you okay? Is this guy hurting you?”
“What are you doing here?” I blurted as Cash hurried across the street.
“Unfuckingbelievable,” Adam said.
“Are you okay?” He rushed over to me. “You look pale, but I guess that’s normal.”
“I’m fine.” I stood up, brushing off the back of my pants with my hands. “Why are you here?”
“The card.” He furrowed his brow. “Remember?”
“What card?” I asked. “Have you been taste testing the office pharmacy cabinet again?”
“My credit card. You said if anyone used it, it was a sign you needed help. You know, the garden gnome thing? The flamethrowers?”
“I didn’t use your…Oh, God.” My eyes scrunched shut, and I thought back to when I asked Daveigh to use my card to pay the tab the other night. She wouldn’t have paid attention and must’ve grabbed the wrong one. I quickly fished it out of my tote bag and thrust it in his direction. “Here, Cash. I’ll pay you back. It was a misunderstanding—”
Cash looked down at Adam. “I’m sorry. We haven’t met. Cash Jensen.”
“The famous Cash.” Adam snorted, crossing his ankles. “Perfect.”
The fireball of Adam’s sarcasm sailed right over Cash’s head. “You’ve heard of me? Not surprising. I’m a big deal in the plastic surgery world.”
“That must be it,” Adam’s tone remained cold.
Cash extended his hand. “I’m Blue’s better half, her old balls and chain, her boyfriend.”
“You’re not my…I…I…”
Adam nodded and forced a fake smile accompanied with a knowing nod. “That reaffirms a lot, actually.”
Cash’s focus turned to me. “I booked a room down the street at the Wave Inn. Come stay with me.” He glanced at his crotch. “Mini Cash will be excited to see you.”
“What’s he talking about?” Adam asked.
“Mini Cash? It’s the nickname we call my—”
“It’s not what you think,” I cut Cash off. “We broke—”
“Oh! I almost forgot!” Cash snapped his fingers. “I swung by the sex shop and picked up the stuff I asked you to buy. I figured it’d save some time. Gotta clean the cobwebs of the ‘ol womb room.” His focus turned toward Adam. “It’s been a few days, if you know what I mean.”
“Wait. You two are still sleeping together?” Adam asked me under his breath. “Seems like an important detail to omit.”
I wanted to disappear as I tipped my head up toward the sky and groaned.
“Your lack of words says it all.” Adam patted the knee of my jeans. “Go. Be with your boyfriend. He can console you since I’m sure you don’t want to be alone right now.”
Nothing could’ve made the evening worse, or so I thought.
Wrong.
Seconds later, the door to The Fill & Spill burst open and Lucy stumbled out, her hands clamped over her mou
th while she dry-heaved. It looked like a scene out of a movie. Her entire body made a crazed, jerky movement as if it were being exorcised from toe to head. She vomited, a stream and a splatter pouring over Adam’s jeans and onto the cement. The harsh smell of margarita and stomach acid instantly flooded the air. “I am so, so sorry, Adam.” She sank to her hands and knees to puke again. “No more tequila for me. Ever. It’s a bottle of Satan’s piss.”
“Well, this evening has been sobering in more ways than one,” Adam said as he stood up and frowned at the chunky clumps dripping down his pant leg. “It was nice to meet you, Cash.” He turned toward me. “Blue. Take care.”
“Adam, wait…” I called out as he briskly walked away. “Please!” But there were no words to bandage what happened. All I could do was watch and hope he’d look back at me, giving me a fraction of hope he cared. But he didn’t slow down.
“You coming to help launch the meat missile?” Cash hiked his thumb over his shoulder toward his car.
I turned to him and closed my eyes, trying to stay calm. “You should go back to California. I’ve got a lot to deal with here.”
“Blue…”
“Please.” I tried to walk away, but he grabbed my upper arm firmly.
“Wait,” he said.
“Believe me, you’ve caused enough damage.” Nausea sloshed in my gut, knowing those were the same words Adam doled to me on my first night back in Steele Falls.
“Just…let me talk to you for a minute,” Cash said.
“Haven’t you spoken your piece already?” I glanced down the street, but Adam was already out of view. “I tried to break up with you back—”
He let go of my arm, his voice soft. Different. “What’s it going to take?”
My face was warm with rage. “What’s what going to take?”
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