by Fawkes, Sara
Leaving that car was difficult, but I forced myself to get out and unlock my bike. Everett stayed in the car, waving as I took off, and pleasure coursed through me. Maybe there were a few good men still left in this world. With all the bad luck in my life to this point, maybe I was finally getting a break.
That happy feeling lasted the whole way home, right up until I realized my mom’s car wasn’t at the house. Leaning my bike against the side of the stairway, I hurried up the steps and checked to see if anyone was home, but nobody was inside, either. I got home at twenty minutes to three, still more than early enough to go pick up my little brother.
But I had no car.
I tried to call her cell but she had it turned off. The thought of calling my grandmother didn’t sit well; I’d automatically be made to blame. I thought perhaps my mother was just out running errands and had forgotten the time. Annoyed at my own helplessness, I passed the time by picking up beer bottles strewn across the living room as I waited for her to get home.
At ten minutes after three, I called the daycare office. The lady who answered was kind enough to go check to see if my little brother was still there.
“No, his teacher said his mother picked him up,” she said when she finally got on the phone.
I thanked her profusely and paced the length of the trailer, continually checking the clock. I finally heard the car pull into the driveway and moved outside to help. “I thought I was supposed to pick him up,” I said as my mother unbuckled Davy from his car seat.
“You weren’t here,” she said, a belligerent note in her voice. “I tried calling you and kept getting some error message.”
I hadn’t given her my new number yet. Shit. “I’m sorry, Mama, I changed it two days ago.”
She gave me a dirty look. “Goddamn, irresponsible … I didn’t raise you to be this fucking lazy, Lacey May.”
God, I hated it when she was drunk. She never would have talked like that to me before Ben died; I’d never once heard her cuss in fact until we moved back down here. Resentment burned in my gut. “I was here ten minutes beforehand,” I persisted as I followed her into the house. “Where did you go?”
“Had to get cigarettes.”
“Mama.” I gave an exasperated sigh. “You know you shouldn’t drive when you’ve been drinking.”
“You made me do it,” she muttered darkly, setting my brother on the ground. “If you had been here when you were supposed to …”
“Mama, you just said you went to get cigarettes. You were driving drunk even though I—”
Crack!
My head whipped around and I stumbled sideways. I turned to look at my mother, shocked to my core. No matter how bad things had been, Gretchen St. James had never laid her hand on me before.
I stood there stunned, holding my cheek, as my mother stared back at me. To her credit, she looked as astonished as I was, but I didn’t care. Part of me wanted desperately to hit her back, make her feel the pain that was tearing me apart.
“Sissy?”
Davy was watching us, his blue eyes as round as saucer plates. Tears sprang to my eyes as I realized he’d witnessed the whole thing, but I had no idea what to say. Rage and impotence enveloped me, but I couldn’t make myself move.
My mother looked between us, her eyes still wide, then she turned to my brother. “What do you want for dinner, honey?” she said in a shaky voice, ignoring me completely.
That was the final straw.
I knew where my mother kept her stash of liquor. She wasn’t very creative with hiding it, and I’d raided it before. Sure enough, she had several bottles in various sizes of tequila and vodka in the small cabinet under the kitchen sink.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Grabbing the smaller bottle of vodka, I ignored her and checked the contents. It didn’t appear to have been opened.
“Lacey May!”
I rounded on her. “Fuck you,” I whispered, and was pleased by the shock I saw in her eyes. I’d never said those words to her before, never cursed at my mama. She’d been the one person I thought I could rely on in this house.
No more.
Without another word, I turned and stomped out of the trailer, slamming the door behind me. I picked up my bike and, stuffing the thin bottle in the back of my shorts, I took off down the street.
I had no idea where I was going, but when I got to the beach, I threw down my bike on edge of the sand, and walked out to the water. Plopping my butt next to the pier, I unscrewed the top to the bottle and tipped it back, letting the burning liquid make its way down my throat.
* * *
By five o’clock, I was drunk as a skunk and horny as hell.
Vodka had always done that to me. Maybe that was why it was my drink of choice when I went out; any given night’s outcome could be blamed on the liquor. It wasn’t my fault, the alcohol made me do it. I could almost believe it.
Almost.
Macon’s number sprang immediately to mind, even though I didn’t have him in my new phone. He was the one I used to call at times like these; invariably, he would come and pick me up wherever I was. The price was always sex, but he’d keep me drunk enough that I wouldn’t mind, until morning came around and I’d sobered up.
I punched his familiar numbers into my phone, then a sane part of my mind made me close the clamshell, deleting them again. The small vodka bottle was empty, and I tossed it toward a nearby trashcan. When it bounced off the side and plopped in the sand, I stumbled over and picked it up, putting it carefully through the hole.
For some reason, this struck me as hilarious.
Sitting down with my back to the trash, I opened my phone again and scrolled through my messages. A slight smile tipped the corner of my mouth as I reread Everett’s conversation. As I tried to hit Reply to text him something new, however, the unfamiliar phone began dialing his number instead.
Oh well. I put the cheap phone to my ear and listened to it ring.
“Hey, I didn’t think you’d ever actually call me.”
“Hey,” I drawled, grinning widely. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Not much. I’m watching TV with Trent. What about you?”
“I’m drunk.” It seemed really important to make sure he understood my words, so I spoke slowly. “My mother slapped the shit out of me, in front of my brother no less, so I stole her vodka and went to the beach.”
There was a long pause from his end. “Where are you now?”
I looked around. “On the beach,” I said, smiling at my joke.
“No seriously, Lacey. What’s around you right now?”
I huffed and rolled my eyes. Pushy, ain’t he? “Um, I’m next to the long pier right on highway ninety.”
“Okay, stay there, I’m coming to get you.”
“Aww! You are such a sweetheart.” My mood changed, however, when I realized he’d hung up on me. Groaning in frustration, I poked at the sand, and then glanced at my feet. Hey, where did my shoes go?
By the time Everett’s car pulled up beside the beach, I’d managed to find one shoe but the other remained hidden. “Hi,” I said as a couple walked by, giving them a small wave and a smile before going back to my task. At that point I was a little steadier on my feet, but still stumbling over the soft sand.
When I saw the dark-haired boy coming toward me, I grinned widely. “Hi,” I said, throwing my arms in the air like I’d scored a touchdown. Before he could say anything I enveloped him in a big hug. My head came right about to his jawline, and I cuddled up against his neck. “Where’ve you been all my life, gorgeous?”
A bemused smile tipped one corner of his gorgeous mouth. “Lacey, do you need me to take you home?”
“Nah,” I purred, pushing myself against him. “I like it fine right here.”
Everett stiffened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, then he tugged gently at my arms around his neck. “Lacey, you’re drunk.”
“So?” I leaned in for a kiss but Everett
twisted his face away, so I set my lips to his neck. Hot damn, but he tasted good. His body went rigid beneath me, the fingers around my waist digging into the soft flesh. I dragged my teeth along the hollow of his throat, enjoying the soft prickle of his five-o’clock shadow.
When I lifted my head, his lips were parted, and I knew for sure that he was about to kiss me. His hands tightened on my waist, however, and he took a step away. “I want to kiss you, Lacey, but not when you’re drunk.”
“Why do you have to be such a gentleman?” I asked, pouting.
“Come on, let me take you home.”
“Wait.” I held up a finger; there was something I was forgetting. After a short pause while my brain caught up, I remembered and lifted up my shoe. “I lost one of these.”
Everett looked between the shoe and my face. Another bemused smile touched his lips. “I think the other one’s by the road,” he said.
“Really?” Letting him go, I turned toward where I remembered my bike being, then frowned when I didn’t see it. “Didn’t I ride my bike here?”
“How about we get your other shoe, and I take you home?”
“No,” I said again, this time planting myself in place. The alcohol haze was wearing off, taking my good mood with it, and I frowned. “My mom’s mad at me, and by now my grandma’s probably home, too.” That meant double the trouble, and I was drunk to boot. It was like winning the damned trifecta … except I was sobering up enough to know what I’d won wasn’t worth shit.
“How about we get you some food?”
It took a few seconds for the words to sink in, and then I smiled. “Yeah, I’m hungry.” My stomach chose that moment to twist, further underscoring the fact that I was right. Bile crept up my throat.
Oh, that’s not good.
“Come on, there’s a Waffle House just down the road here, maybe we can—”
And that was the moment I decided to hurl all over his feet.
CHAPTER SIX
An hour later, all I wanted to do was crawl under the table and die.
“I’m so sorry I threw up on you,” I moaned for the hundredth time. “And for saying such stupid things.”
“It’s all right, can’t be worse than some of the stuff I step through every day on the job site. And nothing you said was stupid, so stop beating yourself up. Everyone’s been there.”
But all I could do was sit there, miserable, going over every detail of the last half hour. Already I wanted to apologize again, but this time I kept my lips closed.
“Drink some water. It might help; you were probably dehydrated.”
I’d already had two glasses of water, but dutifully took another sip anyway. “I’m sorry I drunk-dialed you,” I murmured. I was apologizing for something different, so it was okay this time. My head was still buzzing from the alcohol, but shame and mortification at my behavior had dampened the effects.
“Yeah, I was pretty surprised to see you call. You usually just text.”
My mood sank further south until he dipped his head so our eyes met. “It was a good surprise, I promise.”
“Yeah.” I poked again at my rapidly cooling grits, and then took a small bite. The oyster po’boy I’d enjoyed only hours earlier was spread out over the beach and Everett’s shoes. My stomach rumbled for more food, but I was reluctant to listen this time.
“So what happened with your mom?”
It was the first real question about my day he’d asked. “We had a fight. She slapped me.” I ducked my head so he wouldn’t see the sudden tears that sprang to my eyes. Apparently I was still buzzed enough not to have any control over my emotions. “She’s never done that before; I didn’t even get spanked as a kid. My grandmother’s used her belt on me before, but my mother never hit me.”
“I’m sorry, Lacey.”
I shrugged one shoulder, taking another bite of the grits. Despair welled up suddenly. “I hate my life here.”
“Then why don’t you leave?”
“And go where?” I looked up at him, then back down at my bowl. “The only family I have is down here.”
“What about your stepdad’s family? Can’t you call them?”
The memory of my grandma Jean flashed through my mind. “No,” I said miserably, “they don’t care about me. I’m not their blood.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not really their family. My stepfather adopted me because he had to, but I’m not really his kid.”
“Who told you that? No man has to adopt the child of someone he marries, it’s a choice.”
I just shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. The memories hurt too much, and I wasn’t up for dealing with more emotion right then.
We stayed quiet for a couple minutes, and then Everett sighed. “Look, I might know someplace you can stay the night.”
That old familiar suspicion rose up inside me again. “Where?”
“There are guest quarters or something behind our house, an entire building all by itself. It doesn’t have a kitchen, but it has at least one bathroom, probably more. To be honest, I haven’t explored it much, but there has to be a bed or couch in there.”
I thought about it for a moment. “What about Trent?” I asked, wondering why I was looking this gift horse in the mouth. It was a bed for the night, and not in the trailer park—a step in the right direction, if you asked me.
“He should be okay with it, but I’ll text him anyway.”
The thought of one night where I didn’t have to face my grandmother’s barbs and my mother’s unbearable silence sounded heavenly. I deliberated for a moment, and then sighed. “Can you text him now?”
Everett quickly typed out a message as I stared at my own phone. I realized I should probably let my mother know that I was okay, but I just couldn’t do it. The blow to my face had long since stopped stinging, but the jolt to my heart was a raw, seeping wound. I couldn’t remember any time my mother had ever touched me in anger, not even as a child.
A phone chimed, and I saw Everett turn his over. “He says it’s fine, and wants to know if you like pizza?”
Slowly, a smile crept across my face. “I love it.”
* * *
It was one thing to drive past a dream house for years, but another entirely to actually go inside.
The grounds were immaculate, the flowers and green grass perfectly trimmed and maintained. White columns rose up from the entrance, as tall in person as I’d imagined when I’d seen it from the road. Whoever had built this cut no corners with the house; it looked straight out of a Civil War documentary.
When I stepped through the front door, it was like walking onto the set of Gone with the Wind. The furniture in the entryway was almost delicate, ornately carved and filigreed. I was afraid to touch anything, for fear I’d break it. The house opened up immediately once you entered, with high ceilings and a staircase on the far right wall. A great crystal chandelier hung above us in the entryway, all gold and brass and sparkling facets.
“This place is incredible,” I murmured, awed by the overabundance of splendor.
“Yeah, a little posh for my tastes,” Everett said in a dry voice. “Watching over a place like this definitely makes you paranoid. My entire summer’s salary couldn’t replace some of these antiques.”
The smell of pizza wafted to my nose, and I heard noise farther in the house. I followed Everett into the kitchen to see Trent with a large pizza box on the counter. He was pulling several slices onto a paper plate, and didn’t bother to look up as we walked in.
“Save us some, will you?” Everett said as Trent piled the wedges high on his plate.
“There’s more than enough. I gotta eat and run, though. Got a date.”
“Seriously? Who is it this time?”
“No idea, but Cole called saying he needed a second guy for a double date. I guess the threesome he’d been gunning for was a miscommunication, so he’s doing damage control.” His eyes swung over to me. “Hey, Lacey.”
I didn’t
say anything, just gave a small wave. My insides clenched nervously, realizing with him leaving I was going to be alone with Everett. On the best of days, the boy alternately confused and aroused me, and now I was still tipsy. Mixing alcohol with the situation all but guaranteed I’d make a bigger mess of things.
“I figured his little story sounded too good to be true.” Everett shouldered his way into the kitchen, checking out the refrigerator. “You drank the last of the beer?”
“Yeah, I was gonna leave you a note to get more.”
“Asshole.”
They bickered like a pair of old friends, and I wondered how exactly they’d met. I didn’t know where Trent had gone off to college, but was fairly certain it wasn’t New York. They acted like I wasn’t even there, and I preferred it that way.
“Hey, before you leave, think you can take a look at an old transmission?”
“What, that rattrap of yours finally dive off the deep end?”
“No, this is for a friend. Just want to see how much it’ll cost.”
Trent’s eyes darted over to me, and then he hitched a shoulder. “Can do. Just tell me when, where, and what. See you lovebirds later.”
I flinched at his words, and watched out of the corner of my eye as he walked out the door, still carrying his paper plate and leftover pizza. The silence that fell was uncomfortable, at least on my part. I took a moment to survey the living room, which was much more modern and livable. In typical male fashion, clothing was strewn across random pieces of furniture and beer bottles dotted the tabletops, but it looked more homey and less like a movie set.
“Want to see the back?”
I looked over at Everett and, tamping down my sudden nervousness, smiled. “Sure.”
The house sat on a huge plot of land, at least two acres by my estimation. I’d never been able to see the rear of the house; it butted up against the back of another smaller house that hid everything from view. Thick oak trees dotted the open area at the back, but it was the large two-story white building that captured my attention. I had always wondered what exactly was inside; it looked like servants’ quarters, or a guesthouse, something along the lines of a mini hotel.