Sweet tb-2

by Erin McCarthy

  “Did he leave a voice mail?”

  “No.” Did anyone leave voice mails? But then my phone buzzed for a text. I opened it and my heart sank when I saw the picture he’d attached. “Shit.” I didn’t even have to read what he’d written to know it would be a threat, but I did anyway.

  WV huh? Location says Cinci and your face says wasted. How much $ to keep quiet?

  Yep. That was a threat. Technically blackmail. I stared at the picture that he had clearly lifted off of my Facebook page. Someone had posted it and I hadn’t been on my page in days so I hadn’t noticed. It was me dancing with the guy at the party at the Shit Shack. I had a beer in my hand and a goofy, drunk expression on my face. My cleavage was exploding, and his hand was lower on my hip than I remembered it being.

  I was so busted.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “My brother has a picture of me at the party last weekend. He says he’ll tell my parents if I don’t pay him off.”

  Riley’s jaw dropped. “Your brother is trying to extort money from you?”

  “I told you, he hates me for no apparent reason.”

  “How bad is the picture?” Tyler asked. “I mean, your parents have to know you party a bit at school, right?”

  “No. They do not.” I pushed my phone over to him so he could see it. “They also think I’m in West Virginia building houses for the poor with a church mission group.”

  Tyler choked on his cereal. “Are you shitting me?”

  “No, I am not.” I felt sick. Like throw up sick.

  Riley squeezed my knee. “Hey, it’s okay. What does your brother want, like fifty bucks? Just pay the little prick. Or let me talk to him.” There was a gleam in his eye that suggested he wanted to do more than talk.

  “You think I should pay him?”

  “Well, if you want him to keep quiet, it’s your best option. Though I would personally prefer to beat the piss out of him. What kind of a shit thing is that to do to your own sister?”

  How much? I typed to Paxton.

  Two grand.

  I laughed in disbelief. “He wants two thousand dollars!”

  “What? Fuck him.” Riley waved his hand. “Tell him to suck my dick.”

  You’re insane. I don’t have 2k.

  You have thirty minutes. You can transfer the $ to my acct or I’m going to mom.

  That he said Mom instead of Dad was a good indication he was serious. Dad would be profoundly disappointed, but Mom would be pissed.

  Why do you care what I do?

  Though I already knew it was pointless to try to talk him out of it. Paxton had been looking for the big score, the way to topple me, for years, and he had found it. I had basically handed it to him via vodka cranberries.

  Because you’re a bitch.

  Well, there you go. My brother thought I was a bitch so he was going to ruin my life. “This is bad. This is so bad. My parents are going to freak.” The grilled cheese sat like a lump in my gut and my mind raced, trying to anticipate the fallout.

  “Obviously they’re going to be pissed you lied, but they can’t really punish you. I mean, you’re twenty years old.”

  I shook my head. “Oh, they can punish me. They’ll cut me off.”

  “Rory’s dad threatened to stop paying her tuition and he didn’t,” Tyler said. “He knew in the end hurting Rory’s future wasn’t worth it.”

  But Rory’s father was different from mine and I knew that. Rory had stood up to her dad, and I had admired it when she’d done it. It couldn’t have been easy to tell him she was going to intentionally disobey him. But Rory also knew that at the end of the day, her dad had her back. It was just the two of them, and he loved her.

  My father loved me. Sure. And he was a good man in so many ways, a good leader, with deep moral convictions. But those convictions would prevent him from indulging what he was consider the path of my moral destruction. My mother was just like Paxton—she was spiteful. Once she was angry, it took a lot to earn back her affection.

  The combination of both of them upset with me was going to result in an order to come home or be cut off. I knew it.

  Both of which made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.

  “Rory’s dad compromised because he didn’t want to lose her. Mine won’t. I know it.” I tried to give a shrug. “I guess it was going to be impossible not to get busted at some point. I can’t keep pretending to be the perfect daughter. Frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t figured that out already.”

  “Maybe they have,” Riley said, reaching over and pulling my hand into his. “They might know more than you realize.”

  My phone rang again. This time it was “Material Girl” by Madonna. My mom’s ringtone, and my sense of irony on display. “Wow. Paxton moves faster than I thought. He must have been planning to tell the whole time.”

  Resigned, heart thumping, hand shaking, I picked up the phone, wondering if I genuinely felt guilty that I lied, or if I was just sorry I’d been caught. “Hello?”

  “If you’re going to mastermind that you’re off doing mission work, then you should have the good sense not to post pictures of you partying like a trashy whore on the Internet.”

  How was that for a greeting? “Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out like that.”

  “You didn’t mean for me to find out at all. But I’m not discussing this with you on the phone.” Her voice was cold, her anger barely contained. She wasn’t yelling, but she wanted to be. It sounded like she was trying to not completely lose her shit on me.

  I just waited, because there was going to be more. “I’m sorry,” I repeated.

  She took a breath and continued. “I don’t want to hear your insincere apologies. Tomorrow night is the fund-raiser. You will be there, and you will do your part to help this family. Then we will discuss your behavior.”

  “Mom, I have to work tomorrow,” I protested. I didn’t want to go home. They might not let me leave again. I supposed my parents couldn’t lock me in the house, but they could use emotional manipulation.

  “And I don’t give a damn,” she said. “Be at the house by five at the latest and I want zero arguments from you.”

  Then she hung up on me. Probably to go throw something to let out all that simmering rage.

  “That was fast,” Riley said.

  “She said I have to come home tomorrow and go to a fund-raiser. Then we’ll discuss my behavior.”

  “Are you going to?” he asked.

  “I don’t have a ride.”

  “I can take you if you want to go. Though maybe showing up with me isn’t going to help the situation. I don’t imagine I’m your dad’s idea of the right guy for his daughter.”

  No, he wouldn’t be. But he was the only person who could give me a ride, and if the truth had to come out, then maybe I needed to be a little braver like Rory had been and own up to everything. I wasn’t ashamed of Riley. He was a good guy. I was completely happy with him, and I didn’t want to keep our relationship a secret.

  The real question was, did I want to go? I definitely didn’t want to, but I knew I had to. I couldn’t hide from my parents or from my lie. I had to face them and be totally honest. Mature and responsible for my own actions.

  “Unless my dad handpicked you, he won’t think any guy is right for me. But it would be awesome if you could take me. I could use the support.”

  “If you wants you to go to a fund-raiser, maybe she’s not that pissed,” Tyler said, obviously trying to cheer me up.

  But she was pissed, there was no doubt about it.

  This was not going to be a fun weekend.

  * * *

  When I came out of the bathroom on Saturday dressed to go home, Riley blinked at me. “I’m sorry, I thought my girlfriend was in the bathroom. Who exactly are you?”

  “Ha ha.” I was wearing a long floral maxi dress with a sweater over it, buttoned at the top so it pulled over my chest to cover the bare skin there. The only jewelry I had on was my
cross necklace. My flats were yellow, like the flowers in the dress, and I had tied my hair up in a simple bun. No makeup. “I’m trying not to piss them off the second I walk in the door.”

  “You look . . . pale.” Riley came over and kissed me on the forehead. “Like a watered-down version of you. I don’t like it.”

  “Me either.” But I was trying to be respectful. Either that, or I was still being a wimp. “You ready to go?”

  “Yep. Let’s do this. It’s going to be fine.” He stroked my cheek and smiled. “Who can resist forgiving a face like this?”

  Even Riley’s optimism started to crack when we pulled up to my parents’ house though. “Holy shit,” he said. “This is where you grew up?”

  “Yes.” It was a big redbrick monstrosity, with white pillars and a fountain out front. I had never actually thought it was pretty, though as a kid I’d love the fountain. But by the time I was in middle school, I found it pretentious and embarrassing. Even more so now, seeing it through Riley’s eyes.

  “Apparently the God gig is a good one,” Riley said, parking the car. “I admit, I’m feeling a little intimidated.”

  “Don’t. It’s just a house that the church paid for. I’ve always thought it was on the verge of tacky.” I took a deep breath and stared at its stillness. “But I know I was really lucky to have material things as a kid. I always got what I wanted, within reason.” Which was probably part of the reason I was so aimless. I’d never really had to work all that hard at anything to have a comfortable life.

  Just smile, and say your prayers in public. That’s all that had been expected of me.

  “Now I’m really amazed that you agreed to stay at my place. Damn.” Riley shook his head.

  “You have a better sense of family in that house than there is in this one,” I told him sincerely. “I like being there, with you and the boys.” Even though I didn’t belong, not really, I felt like I did.

  “You ready to do this?” he asked me, taking the key out of the ignition.

  “I guess I have to be.” What I really wanted to do was run away and never face the disappointment that was going to be on my parents’ faces.

  Riley walked behind me, his boots creating a steady rhythm that soothed me. I was actually really relieved he was with me. I didn’t think that I would have the courage to go inside if he hadn’t held my hand, squeezing it in reassurance. The house was hushed and quiet and I figured my dad was in the library, reading before the social night ahead. The main hallway was two stories high and had more columns, with a winding staircase. I led Riley past the stairs to the wooden double doors to the library. They were open, and my dad was exactly where I had expected, on the sofa already wearing a suit, book in hand.

  He looked up and saw me and his rigid expression showed his displeasure. But then astonishment replaced that as he took in Riley’s hand in mine. I knew the picture Riley made to a man like my father. Riley was wearing a Doors T-shirt, the leather straps of his bracelets wrapping around below his tattoos. The fact that he was twenty-five years old was evident in his jaw, the sun crinkles around his eyes, and a glance showed that he looked tense, edgy. His adorable dimples were nowhere in sight.

  “Jessica. Come in. Introduce me to your friend.”

  Dad sounded polite, in control. I wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. He sounded . . . remote. We went into the room and sat down on the opposite sofa from my father.

  “Hi, Dad. This is Riley Mann.” I paused a heartbeat, then went for it. “My boyfriend.”

  The manners evaporated. “Is this why you lied to us? Is this why you wanted to stay in Cincinnati for the summer, to be around some guy?”

  Of course he would conclude that. I realized I was going to have a hard time convincing him otherwise. “No. Absolutely not. We weren’t even together yet.”

  It was like I didn’t even speak. My father set his iced tea down carefully on the end table and eyed Riley. I didn’t like the way his eyes narrowed. He was a tall man, broad in the shoulders, graying at the temples. He was intimidating. I had always been a little afraid of him. Not because he’d ever hurt me in any way, but because he was imposing. As a little girl, he would always say he had God’s ear, that he was a shepherd leading God’s flock of sheep. Somehow I had decided that God’s ear was actually in my dad’s pocket, next to his wallet and the change that jangled when he put his hand in there and moved it around subconsciously. I had always been afraid it would fall out and I would see it, a torn-off celestial ear piece listening to all my words and thoughts like a big tattletaling megaphone to God.

  “Are you having sexual intercourse with my daughter?” Dad asked Riley, bluntly and out of nowhere.

  I uncrossed my leg and sat up straight. “Dad! You can’t ask him that.” I turned to Riley. “Don’t answer that!”

  But Riley ignored me just like my father did. He met his hard stare with one of his own. “No, sir, I am not.”

  I wasn’t sure how entirely accurate that was, considering we did dry hump on a regular basis, but I was just so appalled by the question that I wasn’t even sure what to say.

  “But you want to.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

  Riley nodded. “Of course. Jessica is a beautiful woman and I care a great deal about her.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. Did anyone notice that I was still in the room while they sat there and discussed me?

  “Dad, my sex life is none of your business,” I told him firmly.

  It was that point that my mother walked into the room. “What on earth?” she asked, coming to a complete stop in the doorway, her hand going to her throat. “Jessica, what sex life? What the hell is going on here? Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

  Mom was swearing. And saying the word “sex” out loud. Now I really knew I was in trouble.

  “No sex life,” I said firmly. “We are not having this conversation.”

  “Who is this?” My mother eyed Riley like he was mold growing in the shower grout.

  “This is her boyfriend, she says. This is why she lied to us, she clearly wanted to spend the summer with him.”

  “That is not true,” I insisted, feeling this spiral out of control even more. I was trying to be honest for the first time in, oh, ever, and no one would listen to me. The irony was frustrating. “I lied to you because I didn’t want to come home for the summer and deal with having to do what you want me to do.”

  My mother said, “What, like helping with Sunday school? You’d rather be getting drunk and dancing suggestively with random boys?”

  Well, when she put it that way it didn’t sound very good. “No. I just want to be able to make my own choices. I’m not interested in the legacy of the church. I’m sorry, I know that hurts you, but I’m not going to marry one of your staff, Daddy. I can’t. I would be horrible as a preacher’s wife and the thought makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs.”

  I hadn’t meant to get so specific. I had intended to just explain why I hadn’t come home, but I guess the truth was it was all interconnected. I couldn’t explain without being completely honest. “I don’t want to study theology and I don’t want to pretend to be someone I’m not when I’m with you.”

  My mother made a sound of annoyance.

  My father studied me. “Are you saying you’ve lost your faith entirely?”

  “No.” I fingered my cross necklace. “I believe in God and I believe in Christian kindness. But I don’t believe in judging other people and I don’t believe that I’m a bad person because I do things you may not like.” I wasn’t a bad person. I really wasn’t, and I realized that maybe with the freedom to be myself, I would become an even better person. That I would discover my purpose, my passion.

  “So basically you’d like a personalized Jessica Plan, with the rules changing with your mood? Whatever you like is okay morally?” Dad said. “Moral ambiguity is a slippery slope to Hell.”

  Uh. No. I had firm beliefs and that sentence sounded super snarky
. This conversation was not going to go in my favor. Though why I had thought it would was beyond me.

  “I don’t understand why you couldn’t just come to us and say you didn’t want to come home,” my mother said, her bobbed hair not moving an inch even though she was shaking her head rapidly.

  “Come on, if I had done that, you wouldn’t have let me stay in Cincinnati.”

  Neither disputed that.

  “Where are you staying?”

  “I subletted an apartment.”

  “So you’re not living with him?” my father asked, gesturing to Riley.

  “His name is Riley,” I said pointedly, because I was super embarrassed by my dad’s pretentious treatment of him. “And no, technically I don’t live with him, but I spent a lot of time there. And yes, sometimes I spend the night.”

  “Are you still pure?” was the awesome follow-up question.

  The implication that if I wasn’t a virgin I was impure—dirty—made me flinch. But I held up my head and said clearly, “No.” Let them vilify me.

  Riley made a sound in the back of his throat.

  My mother made a sound of horror and she looked at me with such disgust that I dug my nails into my legs, a sense of shame that I didn’t want to own rushing over me.

  “Him?” Mom asked, gesturing to Riley. “This is who you gave your virginity to?”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with Riley.” It could be amusing to think that we hadn’t even had sex yet, but I was too upset to appreciate the irony. “This is about me trying to explain to you that I can’t be who you want me to be.”

  “What, modest? How many boys have you slept with?” Mom asked. “Please tell me it was just the one.”

  “I’m not discussing this with you.” And I would keep saying it until someone heard me. “What I’m trying to get you to understand is that I get it that you think of women as fitting into two categories—whores and the Madonna. But I’m neither. I’m just Jessica, somewhere in between, and I love you and I want you to accept me.” Tears formed in my eyes and I could hear the pleading in my voice and it horrified me. Being vulnerable wasn’t easy, especially not with Riley sitting next to me seeing my humiliation.