“I know you hear me.”
“Actually, I’m pretending I can’t. Go away.”
“You need me there, Ryland. I can help!”
“I don’t need your kind of help, dear sister. Just leave me the hell alone. I can’t help that I’m forced to see you every day, but listen closely. I don’t want or need your help. I’m done with you.
When we were kids, Careless had wanted to tag along with Sebastian and me to the mall. Of course we said no. No way in hell did we want to drag our little sister with us, but Careless was determined and she stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and held her breath until she turned fifty shades of purple. Scared the shit out of us, and needless to say, we gave in to her. Although, Sebastian had been all in for seeing how long she could hold her breath. Nothing had changed.
“You forget I didn’t ask you to work here. I didn’t want you to work here. And I still don’t want you to work here.”
I hadn’t decided yet if it was all her fault that I was this miserable. Honestly, I blamed everyone. It was everyone’s fault. Including Gary, the mail pusher. Why? Because for some ungodly reason, he smelled like BBQ chips. All. The. Damn. Time. And I was torn between wanting to tell him to go take a shower and grabbing his hands and sniffing them. I was a sicko now too. The smallest things also made me think of her and I didn’t like thinking of her. Okay, that was a lie. I fucking loved it. It was the sweetest kind of torture.
I missed everything about it her. I missed her so much it ached. It never went away and I carried around this pain everywhere. It was rooted in everything I was and it ate me up from the inside out. It made me darker, angrier, until I felt like a completely different person, until I was living in my own kind of darkness.
“But you need my help!” Careless insisted, bringing me out of my slow descent.
I leaned forward into my desk and dropped my voice. “I already know where she is, Careless. You’re useless to me.”
It was harsh, but I was harsh now. Apparently, I was a lot of things now. I found it hard to give a shit though. Even as her face crumbled and her eyes glistened over, I felt noting. Tough shit, Careless. You made your bed. Lie in it.
“Why haven’t you gone after her? Brought her back?”
“Why? So your conscience can be cleared?”
“No, so you’ll stop being a dick!”
“Things will never go back to the way they were before, Careless. Whether Araya is here or not.”
“I don’t care about that! Just bring her back!”
“She didn’t want to come back!” I roared.
Pushing myself out of my chair, I turned toward the window and looked out.
“What are you talking about?”
“Go away, Careless. Can’t you tell by now when you’re not wanted?”
Harsh. Whatever.
She inhaled swiftly. “You’re starting to become just like him, Ryland,” she accused, hurt.
“Did we suddenly become the pot and kettle? Are you really going to accuse me of being black?”
“If we’re one in the same now, why am I still getting the cold shoulder?”
“Because I blame you, Careless!” I snapped, turning on her. So it was decided. I blamed her too. “I blame everyone. I’m like this now because of all of you. Even your brother played a part in my demise.”
“My brother? Now you don’t claim us anymore, either?”
“No. Claiming you means I have to claim myself.” And I fucking hated myself right now. And I hated her for reminding me of that. “Claiming us means claiming we’re his blood and more than anything, I don’t want to be anything of his. So I’m only going to say this as nicely as I can once. Please leave me the hell alone.”
I cursed when I realized I was out of playable moves and selected the option for a new solitaire game. Somehow I felt somewhat accomplished by the fact that I had played over twenty thousand games since I started here. That had to be some kind of record, and I made a mental note to look into Guinness Book of World Records.
And that’s how my afternoons were spent. Playing intense games of solitaire while I tried to beat my own time. I gave my fifty percent for the day and that was good enough for me.
I hadn’t seen Careless again since she’d stormed out of my office, slamming the door and wishing me a nice stay in hell. I took note that she stressed the word stay and not visit. What she didn’t realize was I was already living in hell and I had her to thank for it.
“Well, well, well, looks like the boss’ son is hard at work as always. I’m really glad you get paid the big bucks to sit on your ass all day and play...” He sneaked a look around my computer. “Solitaire? With all your millions, I would’ve taken you for a gambler, Dare.”
“What do you want, Mitchell?”
Mitchell was the office ass kisser slash douche bag. He gave all the women here the creeps and he gave me the urge to break his nose.
He hated that I worked here because he liked being as far up J.D.’s ass as he possibly could, and he perceived my presence as something to be threatened by. He was massively mistaken. Though my unconcerned attitude had finally reassured him that I wasn’t competition, but that still didn’t stop him from being a complete dick.
“For some reason, you’re needed in the two o’ clock meeting with your father.”
“Thanks, messenger boy.”
I hated when J.D. sprang these last-minute meetings I really didn’t need to be a part of. They were boring as hell and he didn’t like it when I fell asleep. Apparently, it wasn’t being a team player.
It was fifteen ‘til, which meant I should probably take a piss now. I stood and stretched, realizing that Mitchell was still standing there. I thought he was just staring off into space, plotting how he could off me without anyone finding out, but when I followed his gaze, I saw he was staring at a picture of Careless, Sebastian, and me.
Coraline had stuck it in here when I first started, along with one of her and J.D. and then one of all of us. They were taken three years ago and probably the only pictures we’ve ever taken as a family. At least that I could remember. Annie took pictures of us all the time, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother with a camera in my life.
This was Coraline’s way of trying to show off. She wanted to make us look like we were an actual family, but like everything else, it was a lie. This wasn’t really my office and this wasn’t where I planned to stay, so she could decorate it with Mardi Gras beads if she felt froggy. I didn’t care either way.
At first I thought maybe Mitchell was mentally mind-shopping himself in the photo with us, but then I realized he was being creepier than that and staring at Careless only. I’d seen that same look in his eyes when he watched her around the factory, and it annoyed the hell outta me. Somewhere, Careless was walking around feeling creeped out, I guaran-fucking-teed it.
“Messenger boy,” I snapped, “stop staring at my sister and get lost.”
Mitchell cleared his throat and a red flush tinted his puffy cheeks. He was slightly on the chubbier side and for some reason, he wore dress shirts one size too small, which made it look like he was being strangled by his collar. It also made his cheeks puff out and stay blotchy red.
He used entirely too much gel or some kind of oil to slick back his hair, and it just emphasized his weird factor. He was a head shorter than me, but he was probably average height. It made him turn even redder when I towered over him.
“What’s it to you, Dare? You’re going to play big brother protector now? I heard the way you were talking to her earlier.”
“You just keep adding to the list, don’t you?”
He balked. “What list?”
“Oh, you know.” I smirked and walked out of the office. A second later, I stuck my head back in. “Oh, and if you sit outside my door listening to my conversations again, I will fire you. Have a nice day, slick.” I gave him my most condescending smile, clicked my tongue, and winked at him.
I would never
fire him. I didn’t care enough to. But he didn’t know that and it was worth watching his head turn into a tomato. I made it halfway down the small hallway toward the bathrooms, which were right before the entry to the factory floor, when I heard shuffling feet behind me. Apparently, my threat didn’t sit well with someone, go fucking figure.
“DARE!” he screeched, out of breath. “You stop when I’m talking to you.”
Giving him what he wanted, I stopped and smiled to myself. Mitch had balls. Turning around, I put my hand on my hip and waited. He halted and a flash of surprise gleamed in his eyes. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting it to be that easy. If only he knew.
“Well? I’m stopped.”
He cleared his throat and started to sputter. “Er... Don’t think just because you’re the boss’ son that you can talk to me any way you damn well please.”
I nodded. “I’m assuming that goes for threatening too?”
Señor Tomato’s head was about to explode. “Of course! Only J.D. can fire me.”
“J.D., huh?” I took a step closer to him. “Does J.D. let you address him by his first name?” And then another step.
“Your father respects me.” He said it with so much confidence I kind of felt sorry for the guy.
“You’re a glorified secretary.” Apparently not sorry enough. “You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought if you actually believe that BS, Mitchell. And besides, that wasn’t what I asked. My question was does J.D. let you call him by his first name? He looked around nervously, as if he were afraid someone might’ve heard his slipup. That was the kind of fear J.D. inflicted in all of his employees. Mitch didn’t say anything, and I circled him like prey.
“I didn’t think so,” I whispered. “How does he like to be addressed?”
He shook with anger, but in all fairness, he came after me. Mitchell stalked forward, huffing, and turned around.
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Dare? You walk around this office like your shit don’t stink and you can do whatever the hell you want because your last name matches the boss’.”
“Actually, it has nothing to do with being the boss’ son.” I grinned at him.
“Ha, ha, ha!” he mock laughed. “Everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it? Your entire life is a joke. You sit there in your big office with your fake photos and pretend everything’s perfect. I know the real reason you’re here.” He sneered.
My smile melted and I had the feeling this wasn’t going to end well... for Mitchell.
“Is that all I needed to do to wipe that stupid grin from your face? Talk about your dirty little secret?”
He saw my weakness and he took it for what it was, advancing on me. Apparently, he didn’t realize it was never okay to back a caged animal into a corner. My lips twitched around a snarl, and I grabbed him by his suit jacket with my fists and slammed him into the wall. Fear became a plaster over his face and he tugged at my wrists.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” I spat. “Keep your mouth shut or I will shut it for you. And just so we’re clear, that’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”
I shoved him hard into the wall and started to walk away. Sometimes you just can’t help stupid, though.
“What’s wrong, Dare?” he taunted unwisely. “You embarrassed for people to find out about your blind bitch?”
Later, people would tell me I looked like a psychopath when I lunged for Mitchell. They told me I made noises no human should ever be able to make and moved faster than any mortal should. And when they gave me every gory detail, probably in jail, I wouldn’t bat an eye. I wouldn’t feel remorse for his smashed face or even the fact that his nose would never sit straight on his face again.
I plowed into Mitchell with every ounce of rage steamrolling through me, which was more than I needed to take him down, considering he wasn’t a muscular guy. He didn’t even have time to react; he never saw it coming.
We fell back, sliding onto the factory floor, and everyone around us gasped. I heard shouting in the background, but I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t remember hitting him or hitting him again or a third and fourth time before someone managed to pull me off. I shook them off, ready to strike again, but he wasn’t moving.
He wasn’t screaming or crying like I thought he would be. Maybe if I had stopped at one punch, his reaction would be different. He finally held his nose, blood pouring down the sides of his face, while he moaned, rolling to his side.
I quaked and my knuckles were on fire. I looked down at my hand, half expecting it to be broken. I’d never hit someone so hard in my life, and it probably would never again feel as fucking good either.
Two of the factory workers were helping Mitchell to his feet and he finally said something.
“You’ll regret this, Dare!” Blood covered his teeth and bubbled from the side of his mouth. He spit it at the floor and ran the sleeve of his jacket across his lips and then pointed at me. “I’m going to make you pay for this! I’ll ruin you!”
They were dragging him away before he could say anything else, and I realized everyone was staring at me. A few of the women looked terrified and they were covering their mouths with their hands. Some didn’t want to look me in the eyes or at all, for that matter.
“Ryland!”
Fuck me.
Careless was by my side the next minute, pulling me around to face her. Her eyes went wide as she looked from me to my hands to the blood on my shirt and back to my face again.
“What the hell happened? Are you okay?”
She pulled on me, trying to get me to focus and answer, but I was suddenly feeling dizzy. I could hear her calling my name, but it was like an echo in the background of static. I pushed her away from me roughly.
“Leave me alone, Careless! Just leave me the fuck alone!”
I filled the small baggie with ice using my good hand and shut the freezer door harder than I should have, and the whole fridge rattled. I pulled out one of the two chairs at the small table in the kitchen and sat down. When I put the bag of ice on my hand, I grimaced. It stung like a bitch and my knuckles had already started to bruise and swell twice their normal size. I could move it so I knew it wasn’t broken at least.
I pulled a can of beer free from the six-pack I bought on the way home and struggled to pop the top with my one good hand. When I finally managed to get it open, it sloshed over the rim and down my wrist. I brought it to my lips, licking the bitter taste from my arm.
And that was how Sebastian found me seconds later. He came rushing through the swinging door before coming to a slow standstill and eyeballing me funny.
“What are you...?” His gaze focused in on my hand and his question changed course. “What the hell happened to your hand?”
He leaned over me to inspect my hand and the door swung shut behind him. He studied it for all of two seconds before walking over to the fridge and throwing open the door.
“It’s not broken,” he said, matter-of-fact.
I lifted my fingers, grimacing, and examined my swollen hand. “How do you know that?”
He pulled out a box of leftover fried chicken and rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for. Shrugging, he put the cold chicken leg in his mouth, grabbed a soda and a half-eaten cherry pie from Annie, and kicked the door closed.
“You’re looking at the record holder for the most broken bones in the Dare family. I know a broken hand when I see one, and that, little brother, is not a broken hand.” He flipped around the chair next to me and straddled it. “However, that is the result of a fistfight. Not the ribs- too much broken skin. Bone on bone contact, so I’m going to go with the cheek, possibly the nose. What happened? Please tell me it was J.D.’s face you busted and not some wimpy intern.”
He hadn’t bothered with a plate or silverware or even chewing as he swallowed the piece of chicken and scrutinized my injury. I felt I should have been more surprised that he’d gotten everything but the who right, but I wasn’t.
> My eyebrows were drawn together as I watched him tear apart the chicken like the true carnivore he was. He looked over at me and his shoulders lifted in defense.
“What?” he asked around a mouthful of food. “I would be truly fucking shocked if I’m wrong.”
“How do you even get laid? Like, ever?” I asked, sidestepping the fact that he wasn’t wrong in the slightest.
His dopy grin rang true to his personality. “Those are trade secrets, Ryland. I don’t hand them out to just anybody.” His teeth tore off a chunk of meat and he shook his head and growled for dramatic emphasis.
“I wasn’t asking for pointers. I was actually thinking there’s a group of analysts somewhere just waiting to conduct a study with your name on it.” I brought the beer up and took a sip. It was starting to get warm and its bitter punch was something I had to force down.
“I’m assuming the fistfight and swollen hand all tie into the fact that you’re drinking at three o’ clock in the afternoon.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled and mocked. “Surprise, surprise. Ryland doesn’t want to talk about it.”
I didn’t feel like listening to another Dare sibling bitchfest, so I grabbed my case of beer and moved to get up from my chair. But Sebastian’s hand clamped down on my shoulder and pushed me back into the seat.
“Settle down, little brother. You’re not going to get a boring lecture from me today.”
I didn’t respond and he didn’t push it. I sat and drank quietly while he chomped down noisily on his food. The silence didn’t last long, but I never expected it to.
“If it makes you feel any better, I heard his face looks like shit.” Sebastian smirked.
Careless. Of course she would have called in reinforcements.
“It doesn’t.” I took another sip and Sebastian knew I wasn’t surprised that he already knew.
I didn’t feel like boasting about what happened. I couldn’t find it in me to regret hitting Mitchell, but a part of me knew I could have handled it better. A very, very small part.
The Grace In Darkness Page 4