The Mistress and the Mouse: Honeymoon Blues

by JJ Giles

  “Dad, please,” Brian begged. “Please stay with me! Please...I’m begging you.”

  Alex’s long lean arms enclosed Jerry fully now. Jerry’s twisted expression and pained stare returned to Brian. A deep breath died in a gulp of bourbon. His chest heaved a moment and then he seemed to relax.

  “You are the best of me and Alex both,” he said proudly. “All these years I’ve let Alex believe that there was a possibility you were mine. He’s forgiven me for that, I think. But in some way, Alex and I are reunited in you.”

  Unable to speak, Brian thrust his body against his father’s to cling. Alex gathered them both quite tightly. The love, the affection, the patience he always remembered and yearned for after his grandfather died was his again. “I do love you,” he grasped.

  “I know,” Jerry said softly stroking through his hair. “You proved that when you sent Morgan. Morgan rattled my cage, made me wake up. Made me remember the most pleasant days of my life and want to live again. Actually, Morgan has liberated me, got rid of my wife, finally, and there was Alex waiting for me still. Who knew.” Filled with gratitude, he laid his head on Brian’s, feeling Alex so devastatingly near.

  “I don’t know how the hell you’ve lived like that,” staring into his father. “But you did beat her?”

  “Yes, Brian...exactly three times. You were about, uhh...three, four months old when I came home from work one night. I started up the stairs and heard you screaming, Molly crying and your mother hollering. I looked through the nursery door and there was your mother beating Molly with a belt and poor old Molly was laying on top of you so you wouldn’t get hurt.”

  Remembering it vividly along with the rage which rose into his face all over again, he stammered, “Your own mother, and I was there when you were delivered, I know she’s your mother...your own mother, who refused to breastfeed you because she didn’t want her tits getting saggy was beating a woman who loved me and you both enough to take care of you. But your mother didn’t want those big black beautiful breasts in your mouth. Didn’t want that nigger milk in you,” he screamed, remembering Cheryl’s very words that day. “I grabbed that belt out of her hand and flailed her all the way back to her bedroom and tied her in the bed with it.”

  “The second time was when I found out she was pregnant again and I knew it wasn’t mine. Hadn’t slept with the woman in a year. When Cherry was born, I had a paternity test done and found out she wasn’t even your grandfather’s. As soon as Cherry was ready, I snatched her up and took her home with me because I knew the old man would kill her. She’s not an Abernathy.

  “The third time, Brian, was...you were nine. She was pregnant again I noticed and I asked her if it was mine. She told me it probably was. I guess my mistake was to express elation that one of my children was actually going to be mine.” Tears began to cloud his vision. “A couple months later she disappeared for a few days, came home not pregnant and you can’t know what kind of depression that put me into. And then she gave me a picture. A fetus, cord and placenta, its limbs thrown back, head turned. A seven-month-old very viable fetus burned over a hundred percent of its body by saline, a little boy...aborted.” He gasped, remembering the grotesque image of his son lying dead on an instrument table. “Told me she’d rather give birth to the devil than anything that belonged to me. An hour later she was in intensive care....dying. And I know you don’t remember this, but when the old man got home from the hospital that night, he came into my room and jerked me out of the bed yet again. I know you don’t consciously remember it. You were lying right there by my side that night. I grabbed a bullwhip and damn near beat him to death, too. Told him if he ever came near me or my children again, I would kill him.”

  “I do remember that,” Brian said solemnly.

  For a long moment, Jerry stared at his son. “I’m sorry,” he whispered passionately.

  “I remember him threatening to kill you. I remember you beating him with a whip and him begging you to stop. I remember you dragging him out of the bedroom and throwing him into the hallway. And I remember you jamming a chair against the doors so he couldn’t get in again.”

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” Jerry whispered full of sadness because that’s exactly the way it happened. “Then that’s the day that your sweet little nine-year-old mind decided that I perpetrated all the violence in the house. But if I had let him kill me, he surely would have killed your sister and taken you, Brian, and tried to turn you into God-knows-what.”

  But Brian only shook his head. “You know he raped me?”

  Jerry’s tears streamed as freely as snow melt. Easily, he choked, “I was hoping that was one of those things you wouldn’t remember.”

  “He never again touched me after that night.”

  Jerry nodded. He held the ache so deep inside he could barely contain it.

  “Do you realize that every time she got beat up she told me you did it and I didn’t have any reason to disbelieve it?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Things could have been so different.”

  Jerry held his breath knowing something vulgar would spill out if he didn’t. Yet, he gasped, “I didn’t want you to know that your own mother is a whore. When you were ten years old, you wouldn’t have understood what that is. But when you were sixteen, what would that have done to you? To know what a whore is by then and know that’s where you came from? That all those guys you saw going in and out were johns? What would you have felt then?”

  Brian could only gasp, clutch at his father’s hand and hold it against his lips, realizing now the depths Jerry had gone to protect him, including allowing himself to be sacrificed. Jerry was the one that was battered, physically and emotionally for decades and took it out on every business adversary he could get his hands on.

  “Grandpa would have killed you if you had tried to take me out of there,” he knew now.

  “A bullet right through the brain,” Jerry said softly. “And then after he died, your mother could have taken you and Cherry both, legally. And because Alex is gay, he wouldn’t have had a snowball’s chance in hell of getting custody of you back in those days.”

  “I get that now...and dragged you through the courts, and maybe put you in jail.”

  Sadly, Jerry nodded. “But things have changed a lot for you,” Jerry whispered.

  “Morgan’s let me be everything I am without forcing the past down my throat,” he whispered with reverence. “Without insisting to know who I am. Even she was protecting me, wasn’t she?” having forgotten she was sitting quietly behind him.

  With pride, Jerry nodded. “From herself.”

  “God, she’s incredible,” Brian whispered.

  Physically, Jerry agreed with a broad but bitter smile.

  “And Dad...things weren’t all bad, you know,” Brian whispered.

  “Do you mean that?” Jerry choked.

  Easily, Brian laughed. To gently prod Jerry’s memory, he said, “All those trips we went on. Do you remember the time my polo pony threw me and I broke my arm?”

  Finally Jerry laughed. “I’m the only father in the world that punched a horse in the face for hurting his son.”

  “Probably,” Brian laughed. “We’ve been hunting and fishing and skiing all over the world. How many kids have a stuffed Black Mamba in their room? How many kids have taken an elephant ride through Thailand? How many kids have been a guest at Kensington Palace for a week and played polo and hunted fox with the Prince?” he said warmly. “How many kids have seen Versailles?”

  Jerry’s smile was broad now. “I didn’t think I was ever gonna get you out of those gardens.”

  “That’s where I learned that live, wild things...with a lot of love and attention...can be tamed.”

  “Oh, Brian.” Finally Jerry understood it now. Only in the gardens did Brian have control of everything.

  He pulled Brian against his chest and clung feeling Brian’s love pouring through a tight embrace. Grateful that God let hi
m keep Brian and Brian saved him, after all.

  Gently, Brian pulled away and looked at them both. “So now I understand why it was Alex who took us to the villa for a month every summer...without you.”

  “It was the best month out of every year for me,” Alex mewed.

  Brian smiled with warmth. “Dad, I didn’t know. We don’t have to go to the villa. So let’s just hop a yacht...”

  “No,” Jerry whispered. “I’ll be alright. I only found out just this week from Bryant what happened after I was hauled out of there. That Alex had been raped as brutally as I was.” Firmly, he clutched to Alex’s knee. “That the rest of the boys had to stand there and watch. Bryant’s still so fucked-up over it,” he growled. “And Gerald...Jesus...he was only two at the time. I can’t even imagine how he perceives what happened that day.”

  “Jeannine was there?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Alex screeched. “Daddy’s little precious. When he got through with me and dropped me on the floor, all she had to do was hiss to scatter the boys. Send them screaming and crying to their rooms. Only Bryant had the courage to pick me up and carry me out of there. Kept me in his room until I recovered.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Brian whispered, his breath heavy.

  “It’s over, precious,” Alex said smiling. “It’s all over now. Your beautiful Morgan is your wife now, and she loves you so desperately.”

  “Okay,” Jerry said as he stroked through Brian’s hair. “There isn’t anything left for you to know. It’s finished, I believe. So Monday we’re going to the villa for a month. Tonight you’re gonna have your beautiful bride, lay down with your wife, and I’m going speak to your mother about the rest of our lives...together.” Passionately, he pressed his head back into Alex’s chest.

  Instantly, Brian brightened and pulled away. Heartily, he broke into laughter. “Judas Priest, this is a fucked-up family.”

  “I know,” Jerry said laughing. “But from here on out, we’ll just have some fun with it and anybody who doesn’t like it, like my sister, can kiss my ass.”

  “Right.”

  “So go,” Jerry commanded gently.

  But Brian had to revel in the immensity of his father’s love a moment longer framed in silence.

  “Go,” Jerry softly commanded.

  Brian drew in a deep breath. He nodded, knowing it was understood between them now and then he rose and turned to his wife.

  Slowly Morgan rose to take his hand. That was the saddest story she’d ever heard. But everything made sense now. A soft, gentle smile was directed at Jerry for a moment and then at Alex. Incredulous, she lingered, happy that Jerry had the love his life with him just as she had hers. Knowing that she and Jerry would still have each other when the need arose. Silently, she moved behind her husband as he tugged on the leash of her arm.

  Beyond the dungeon door, Brian pulled Morgan toward the rear lawns anxious to get back to his wedding reception. But Morgan stood firm, clutched to his hand. Determined, she pulled him back to her.

  He turned to face her, because it was her he really wanted rather than the event that would become memories of this day. He knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she heard it from him.

  “Tell me,” she gently urged.

  He licked at his dry lips and averted his gaze understanding now the humiliation Alex had spoken of. “Yes, baby,” he whispered. He scooped her into his arms. “The truth is...Cherry and I slept in Dad’s bed every night of our lives until the day Grandpa died. I never realized until just now it was because we were in danger. I just thought that’s how things are done. The day he died we got kicked out of Dad’s bed. Cherry was fourteen, I was sixteen. Somehow I decided that was because my father wanted to be an asshole like my grandfather was, that with my grandfather dead, nothing stood in Dad’s way. I never realized that it was because my mother was threatening him.

  “And no,” he said softly but insistently, “Jerry never...never once molested me. My grandfather, on the other hand...” faded off into a twisted snarl. “My mom even stood and watched one time. But Jerry never once touched me with anything but paternal affection.”

  His huge hands wrapped to the side of her neck so that his thumbs could brush over her flaming cheeks. She was feeling defensive, not jealous as he always assumed she was. He was more than flattered that she had been willing to do whatever was required to divide him from the source of his misery earlier...with a bullwhip. But her direct yet silent stare demanded more.

  “I was seventeen when Jerry found me and Renee playing in the dungeon. He spent several months with us there. Before my eighteenth birthday I got to go to my first gathering of the Billionaire Boy’s Club with the Grand Dragon as my Master. But I think I was twenty, home on summer break the first time he took me, baby. But I think it was only because I was curled in a fetal position begging for it.”

  She stepped back a bit and looked away. She felt it in the pit of her stomach like acid.

  “Honey, I was a consenting adult by then,” he reminded. “I was moved out of the house for two years already, and he accepted me as an adult, not his kid any longer. I can’t honestly tell you it would have happened if I hadn’t been begging for it. The last time he took me was April 4th, ten and a half years ago,” he insisted. “Since we’ve been back together these last few months, he’s had me in the Lair several times, but he hasn’t taken me. Not that it would have bothered me if he had, but I think he’s still afraid of my emotional stability. He never once forced himself on me.”

  She drew in a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. Tears welled in her eyes with the relief of the emotional stress that question caused. “I guess I’ve never been around people who...”

  “I know,” he interrupted with a little laugh. “My father is doing my wife and hopefully he can get it up for me soon. He’s fucked all of my male cousins at least once, all of his brothers a lot more often than that. I’ve watched. If I understand, he’s gonna ask his twin to marry him tonight. In the meantime, my wife is fucking my sister. My mother is a professional prostitute and my Aunt Jeannine is an amateur. Married seven times for as little as a week and only for the settlements she can wrench out of her exes.”

  Morgan’s expression finally broke into something affable now. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to be so forceful.”

  “Yes, you did, and I love you for it. Nobody better than you understands what it’s like to be dominated by someone who doesn’t give a shit whether you live or die. When the only people you have in the world for financial and emotional support rape you and use you and torture you... You know exactly what that’s like, and so does Jerry. I could have never known how much you two have in common. But it wasn’t like that for me.”

  Tenderly, she nuzzled her cheek to his, so very grateful that it hadn’t been like that for him. That at least Brian had Jerry to protect him.

  “And truthfully,” he whispered, “that thing with Genlabs wasn’t the first time I told him to stuff something up his ass. He let me get away with a lot of shit. But that was the day my mother told me I wasn’t his. That’s what really fucked me up. And I was sitting on the curb waiting for a bus to run over me when the bumper of a triple black lacquer Corvette nudged my shoulder. And this haughty bitch wearing those black leather boots with the silver toe caps came around and kicked me in the balls.” He could nothing other than laugh now. “And then she sprawled face down on the sidewalk and the expression on your face, baby, when you turned to see what the hell you tripped over...” He backed away and doubled over in laughter. That expression of pure astonishment was etched in his memory as if in marble. “I’ll never forget it.”

  “Okay, alright,” she ordered still embarrassed about that one. To find herself kissing the pavement with her toe in some guy’s crotch.

  His laughter dwindled but never the pleasure of being in her presence. “You’re sure you’re okay with the Abernathy family for real?”

  “Yeah,” she said warmly. “I’m o
kay, baby. But, uhhh...I wanna watch.”

  Broadly, he smiled. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, there’s somebody who would be happy to slit my throat for you, and I want you to fix him, too.”

  * * * *

  The orchestra had given way to the band, the music a little louder and galloping toward nihilistic delight. Nervously, Brian searched the crowd, Renee nowhere to be seen. He moved through it with determination, the torchlight offering a soft glow as if this were pagan revival rather than a Catholic wedding.

  He wanted to cry out, plead to Heaven for her to be delivered to him, but the crush of guests aborted his intentions.

  “Cherry, where’s Randi?” Renee was the one last thing that needed to be revealed to Morgan. The creature who kissed him on the lips and thought of him as a brother.

  “I’m not sure.” She straightened and stretched her neck to search the grounds. “He was on the dance floor...” That was cut short as one of their cousins took her from behind, spun her around and drove his tongue straight into her mouth.

  Brian huffed and turned to Morgan. “This is a totally fucked-up family.”

  “Yeah, but it’s turning me on,” she breathed.

  But Renee... “Shit,” he hissed. His best friend was wooing his Uncle Bryant on the dance floor. He leapt onto it, parted the swirling guests and approached full of bravado, studying both of them carefully.

  “Can we cut in?” Brian insisted.

  Randi huffed to the intrusion. “But we’ve always shared everything, and he’s so pretty.”

  Easily, Brian laughed as Bryant sneered and turned away. Brian wrapped his arms around Morgan and Renee both. “Has he introduced himself, my love?”

  Of the gorgeous creature with the narrow nose and lashes to die for, she said, “No. For some reason, he evaded the question.”

  “The girls call me Randi, sweetheart,” with such a decadent leer. “Randi...Collins.”

  Morgan recoiled, instantly defensive, knowing Brian’s ex-girlfriend was of that same family. “Are you a brother...?”