The Dirty Dozen: Damsel Edition

by Kay Maree

  Gritting my teeth, I bite out, “It’s going to take me the better part of the weekend to fix this, Bren. What the fuck was she thinking?”

  “Lani was thinking that she’s sick and tired of your hot and cold routine and finally decided to show you how she feels about you treating her like shit,” he replies tersely.

  One look at my brothers’ face tells me all I need to know. He’s daring me to deny his words. He’s just waiting for me to argue my point so that he can put me in my place. What he doesn’t realize, is that I’ve already berated my own ass enough for the both of us.

  Don’t think for a second that his words don’t affect me, though; they do. I know I’m an ass for pulling her close then pushing her away, but there’s a reason for it. There’s a reason for everything I do when it comes to the girl I live and breathe for.

  See, when Lani was six, she was kidnapped. Taken straight out of her own front yard in the middle of the afternoon. For four days no one knew where she was, if she was okay, or how to go about getting her back. It was the longest, most painful four days of my whole fucking life.

  If it wasn’t for a nosy neighbor of the asshole who took her, who called the police when they saw a little girl fitting Lani’s description staring out the window of the kidnapper's house, my girl may have very well disappeared without a trace, permanently.

  For months after Lani was returned home, I lay beside her, holding her as she cried herself to sleep. As her tears wet the collar of my shirts, I promised myself I’d do everything in my power to protect her no matter what.

  Lani’s parents never knew I snuck in her bedroom window every night to comfort their daughter, and they still don’t. They wouldn’t have appreciated it, regardless of how innocent it was, so Lani and I kept our night time rendezvous a secret.

  That was the beginning of our tug of war relationship but by no means the end.

  While everyone around Lani was treating her like spun glass, I saw the toll it took on her. She hated being viewed as weak and vulnerable, so I did what any kid who didn’t know any better would do; I treated her the exact opposite.

  But years later, we’re still playing the same game and I’ve got to admit I’m getting tired of it.

  During the day, I do everything I can think of to bring out Lani’s feisty, determined, badass side to remind her she’s strong and can deal with anything. Then every night, under the cover of darkness, I show her it’s okay to lean on someone, to allow people to see the softer, sweeter, more vulnerable side of her.

  I don’t love one side more than the other; I adore both equally. But I’ve got to admit, being able to hold her in my arms and breathe in her scent while she whispers in my ear all her hopes and dreams is what keeps me going as each new day breaks.

  “Can you do me a solid?” Brendan asks, snapping me out of my funk. I don’t answer him, but I do nod. “Think long and hard about what’s going to happen in a couple of months, little brother. You’re staying here, taking over one of the bays in the garage and Lani’s not. As far as I know, she’s leaving, bro, which means your window’s closing. If you have any chance of finally making good on your promise to us all those years ago, you’re going to have to make your move soon. A girl like that, at college, far away from home is gonna get attention. Attention a guy like you won’t appreciate all that much. You want her, then lock her down, Blake because fuck knows you might lose your only shot if you don’t,” he states, giving voice to the thoughts I’ve been agonizing over for months.

  Chapter Four

  Lani

  “Have you made a decision yet, peanut?” My dad asks as mom places the last serving dish on the table.

  “Mm,” I mumble noncommittally, attempting valiantly and failing to ignore his piercing stare.

  Sometimes I think dad can see things no one else can. At times I catch him looking at me with as if I’m a code he’s trying to decipher. Other times, he simply looks at me with so much sadness etched on his face that it all but breaks my heart.

  It’s those times that make it very clear that the past will never be the past in this house which is why I need to get away. To go somewhere no one knows me or the events that transpired twelve years ago. But it’s not that simple, nothing ever is. If it was, I wouldn’t be in the position I’m in right now, trapped between knowing what I should do and what I’m going to do.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m well aware of how my abduction affected my parents; they’ve never let me forget it. They aren’t overt about it, not anymore since the subject is very rarely if ever bought up, but they still worry too much. Their demands for updates as to my whereabouts, detailed information on my schedule, and random visits while I’m at work have proved that they won’t ever see me as anything more than their little girl who was stolen from them.

  That said, I love my parents. Lake and Stella Scott are the kind of parents all of my friends are envious of. Still madly in love with each other after twenty years of marriage, they dote on me and support my every decision. It doesn’t hurt that they’re pretty cool when they’re not all over each other, engaging in heinous public displays of affection, either. I just wish they’d cut the umbilical cord, for their sake just as much as mine.

  “Sweetheart,” dad prompts. “You’ve got five offers and a week to decide which one you’re going to accept. It’s high time you made a choice, don’t you think?”

  He’s right and he’s wrong.

  Yes, I do have acceptance letters to five colleges from here to California and as far away as New York, but dad’s wrong in thinking I haven’t made a choice. It’s just not one he or my mom are going to like, which is precisely why I’ve put off telling them.

  For once, I have to put myself, my needs, my wants first so as far as I’m concerned, the decision was easy, regardless of the conflict I know it’s going to cause.

  See, after being kidnapped my parents tried everything from doctors and psychologists to music therapy to help me come out my shell but nothing worked. With every passing day, I became quieter, more withdrawn, and refused to eat unless I was forced to. It wasn’t the time I spent in the strangers' house that changed me or the fact that I didn’t know when, if ever I’d be reunited with my parents; it was the deep, soul-crushing loss I felt at not seeing Blake again.

  Strange, I know. Especially, when for the most part, you’d think we hate each other. That couldn’t be further from the truth, though.

  People may think otherwise, and I suppose the well-earned payback I metered out today only furthers their assumptions, but the truth is, Blake is the most important person in the world to me. He is my anchor in this storm I call life, and given the choice which I have been, I wouldn’t be anywhere else but in his safe harbor.

  Hence the precarious situation I find myself in now.

  Where shrinks and music didn’t help, art did. I channeled my anger and confusion into drawing and painting. My feelings because palpable with every slashing brush stroke I made. Eventually, I refined my craft and now I lean more toward charcoals and watercolors than acrylics and oils, but nevertheless, my passion for creation has never waned.

  My acceptance to California Institute of the Arts was proof of my talent my parents and Blake’s said. And to this day, they’re all still pushing hard for that to be my first choice.

  I went with the flow when it came to applying wherever they suggested, probably because I knew I wouldn’t be attending any of them anyway, but now I see that was a mistake. Because now they have expectations and I despise disappointing them which I know I inevitably will.

  “Lani,” mom prods. “As much as I can see you don’t want to, we have to talk about this,” she says as her usual soft-spoken voice takes on the tone of a concerned parent. “It’s time, sweetheart. You’ve put it off for as long as you can. If you don’t make a decision now, then we’ll be forced to make it for you.”

  Yeah, I don’t think so. They seem to forget I turned eighteen last week,
so their days of making my choices for me have come to an end.

  “That’s where you’d be mistaken, mom,” I say in a hushed whisper. “I am fully capable of making my own decisions, and my choice is to stay here.”

  “Excuse me?” dad inhales sharply.

  With a glance that warns him to keep his calm, mom questions, “I don’t understand, Lani. All we’ve been talking about for months is what college you’re going to and which courses you’re going to take. What’s changed, sweetheart? Are you afraid of being so far away for home because if that’s the case, then you can still choose the University of Montana?”

  Steeling my nerves, I straighten in my chair and shoot a cursory look between them. “That’s the problem, mom. You have been talking about college, I haven’t. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but every time you or dad has brought it up I let you talk but I haven’t once committed to anything.”

  The eerie silence isn’t what I expected. Yelling, yes. Anger, definitely. But deathly quiet? I’m not sure how to handle that. Thankfully, I don’t have to for long.

  With an astuteness only my dad seems to possess, he asks, “Has this got anything to do with a certain boy who lives next door?”

  I want to say no, but I can’t. However, it’s not a simple yes, either.

  So with that in mind, I evade the question entirely. “I’m sorry, daddy, but your dreams for me aren’t mine. I don’t want to go to college. All I want is to apprentice for Uncle Max, and maybe one day have my own studio.”

  Uncle Max isn’t really my uncle, but he may as well be. He and my dad have known each other since they were kids, growing up together much like me and the Kensington boys have.

  They lost touch for a few years when Uncle Max went and prospected for Devil’s Spawn MC in Blackwater, Colorado but reunited again just after I was born. And while they couldn’t be more different - what with my dad being the owner of his own construction business and Uncle Max being the SAA for an outlaw motorcycle club and a tattoo artist - they behave and get along just like brothers should.

  Which is why I’m shocked and for the first time in my life disappointed in my dad when he says, “Over my dead body are you getting involved with scum like them. I can overlook a lot, Lani Emerson Scott, but what I won’t turn a blind eye to is you risking your future by associating with a band of low-life criminals who wouldn’t know the right side of the law if it bit them in the ass.”

  Mom’s stunned expression mirrors my own. Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen at dad’s harsh and judgemental tirade. Whether it’s deserved or not, because I’m not an idiot, I know Uncle Max and his club don’t always operate under the same laws and restrictions as the rest of us, I can’t help but feel offended for my uncle.

  “Dad,” I attempt to reply.

  Cutting me off, he barks, “No, Lani. I don’t give a shit which college you choose, but you will pick one. You are going and that’s final, even if I have to drag you there myself.”

  Effectively ending the discussion, dad stands and walks out in the direction of his home office and slams the door behind him.

  “Well, that went well,” I mutter to myself.

  “I’m not sure what you expected when you dropped this bombshell, sweetheart, but you’re going to have to give him time to cool down before we revisit this topic again,” my mom tries for diplomacy.

  Sighing dejectedly, I nod and beat a hasty retreat to my bedroom, wanting nothing more than to call Blake and have him come over so he can just hold me. Because I know, just a few minutes in his arms and all will feel right with the world again. At least for a little while anyway.

  But then I remember why I can’t, and the tears I’ve managed to keep at bay finally begin to fall.

  Chapter Five

  Blake

  “Can you believe it?” I hear mom whispering to my dad. “When Stella told me that Lani has decided against going to college, I had to ask her if she was joking. I mean, that girl has had her future mapped out for her since the second she picked up a paintbrush.”

  Yeah, she has, I muse bitterly. Just not one Lani mapped out for herself. Not that any of our parents would see it like that, though. As far as they’re concerned, Lani is destined for a college degree and artistic greatness whether that’s what she wants or not.

  “Apparently, Lake was so angry when Lani told them that he stormed off and has been locked in his office ever since,” mom adds, her voice rising an octave.

  “Don’t think that’s going to help the situation, precious,” dad replies calmly. “Maybe instead of yelling at the kid, Lake and Stella should try listening to her once and a while. It doesn't take a genius to work out that kid wants something different for her future than they do.”

  If I weren’t sitting on the stairs eavesdropping, I’d hug the shit out of my dad for being so insightful right now.

  See, that’s the thing about my dad, he doesn’t give a crap about what career path we choose, how much money we earn, or job titles and prestige all he cares about is that we’re happy. And, of course, that we eventually move out of home so he can have some peace and quiet for a change, as he so kindly reminds us, only every other day.

  “Ben,” mom gasps. “How can you say that? You know they only want what’s best for Lani. And I for one, think her going off to college and meeting new people will be good for her. I mean, for God’s sake, the only human interaction she has that isn’t mandatory is with the boys, and even then it’s really only Blake and Brendan she spends any time with.”

  “And why do you think that is, precious?”

  “I have no earthly clue. You know I love her like one of my own, Ben, but it’s as if she lives in a bubble most of the time and the only way I see her breaking free of her self-imposed confinement is to be pushed into it.”

  “Have you met the girl?” Dad chuckles. “Pushing Lani into anything is like poking a rabid pixie. That kid’s got more grit and fire than someone twice her size and the means to make whoever corners her pay for being that stupid.”

  “Yes, well, whose fault is that?” Mom splutters.

  “I don’t see it as a flaw, precious, and I’m damn proud of my boys for teaching her how to stick up for herself.”

  “It wasn’t just our boys who corrupted her and you know it,” she admonishes softly.

  “No, you’re damn right it wasn’t. And given half the chance, I’d do it again too.”

  Whatever mom was going to say next is muffled by the sounds of my dad doing things to her I’d rather not ever have to hear, but unfortunately, have been subjected to one too many times.

  Taking that as my cue to leave, I stand and turn but don’t make it far seeing as I walk straight into Burke who’s clearly just heard everything I have if the look on his face is anything to go by.

  “Follow me,” he commands as he stomps to his old room.

  Burke moved out when he was nineteen and I was fourteen. At first, he rented an apartment above the salvage yard office that he now part owns along with old Mr. Perkins. He lived there for four and a half years while he scrimped and saved every penny he earned until he could afford the down payment on a three-bedroom bungalow a block over from mom and dads.

  So, why’s he here you ask?

  Aside from mom’s cooking and her doing his laundry, there’s the small matter of his place being uninhabitable at the moment. Even the rodents we found in his crawl space ran for their lives, that’s how bad it is.

  But a fixer-upper is what Burke wanted, and that’s definitely what he got.

  Once I’ve cleared the doorway to his old bedroom - a room my parents refuse to clear out on the off chance their son miraculously decides to move home - Burke signals for to me to close the door as he sits down on the edge of the bed. Looking around his room at his trophies and classic car posters with half-naked chicks plastered all over his walls brings back plenty of memories, but I highly doubt that’s why he called me in here.


  “What the fuck was that all about?” He asks, not one to mince words.

  “That was mom finding out and bitching to dad about the picture-perfect Scott family not being so perfect after all,” I sigh, dropping down into his desk chair.

  “Yeah, and? We already knew that shit, so it couldn’t have come as that much of a surprise.”

  While Burke isn’t a big talker, he’s fantastic at listening and remembering ever damn thing he’s ever heard, including some of the conversations Lani and I have had over the years regarding her plans for the future.

  “We might’ve always known, B, but the parental’s didn’t. Not Lani’s or ours.”

  “Well, she did an awesome job of hiding that shit then,” he states, pointing out the glaringly obvious.

  “No shit. But with that kind of reaction, and that was our mom, not hers, do you blame her?”

  “Nope,” he says, putting emphasis on the last syllable. “Probably should’ve come clean sooner, though. What is it, six weeks till graduation and she still hasn’t told them?”

  Part of me agrees with, Burke. But the other part, the bigger part questions whether there was really any good time for Lani to fess up. God knows we’ve talked about it enough, but neither of us has managed to come up with a solution as to the best way to break the news to her mom and dad.

  Which makes me think, why’d she do it now? What happened tonight to force her hand?

  “Tell me, big brother, how does an only child tell their parents that instead of going to college they want to work for jack shit pay at their Uncle’s shop that, on a good day, is filled with less than savory dudes?”

  With a deep rumbling chuckle, Burke smirks at me. “If it were me, I’d say it exactly like that, but I get your point little brother.” Shaking his head, he goes on to say, “That’s not really why I called you in here, though. Brendan tells me that this afternoon, somewhere in between Lani giving The Beast a makeover and you crying over some water-soluble paint, he told you to pull your head out of your ass.”