“What the hell happened to you?” he asks, his voice getting a bit louder.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Let’s start with your neck. Been hanging with vampires? There are sucker bites all over it.”
Oh . . . shit.
“And what the hell’s all down the front of you, girl?”
“I-I got sick,” I reply, looking down at the pink and tan foamy traces of my puke. I’d thought I’d rubbed it all off after I heaved out the window of Austin’s car on the way home.
“Have you been drinking? Did that boy feed you alcohol tonight?” His eyes are flashing anger—worse than I’d ever seen before. Even worse than when Mama had taken off.
“No,” I lie, “I just ate some cotton candy and soda at the carnival and then went on the Tilt’O’Whirl and it made me sick.”
“I don’t believe a fucking word of what you’re saying,” he growls, clearly pissed, and obviously not buying any of it. “Get your ass to bed. We’ll talk in the morning. I’m disappointed in you, September,” he finishes, shaking his head. “Go on—get.”
For a moment, I actually consider whether he’s thinking some form of punishment is in order.
A spanking on my bare ass perhaps?
My mind envisions him pulling me down across his lap; his large hand begins delivering open-palm slaps to my creamy delicate derriere until I start to squirm against his muscular thigh in delightful pain, my swollen clit rubbing against the soft cotton fabric of his pajama bottoms until I come. I picture the wet spot I leave on his thigh.
I scurry off to the bathroom, glancing in the mirror and seeing that I do in fact resemble a ghoul. Mascara is streaked down my cheeks from the tears that escaped while I was retching my guts out in that hotel room. My neck does in fact bear an assortment of hickeys from the foreplay that took place before the ‘deflowering’; my eyes are glassy and a bit red-rimmed from the champagne and tears, and of course, the puke-stained shirt that carries its own stench with it.
I wash my face and brush my teeth and then hurry to the privacy of my room where I peel off everything—including my blood-sprinkled panties, that I quickly toss into the trash can in my room. I want no reminder of that awful two minutes with Austin’s pecker inside of me.
I pull on clean panties and a tee shirt and crawl beneath my covers.
I seriously doubt that Austin will want to see me again, and I hope to God he doesn’t. What a fucktard! Oh well, he’s served the purpose I intended for him to serve.
I might actually have reconsidered going a second round with him after we killed the last of the champagne except shortly afterwards I started spewing it, along with the strawberry remnants from my stomach, onto the king-sized bed in Suite 113 at the Marriott.
Austin had totally freaked and practically carried me out to his car, instructing me to keep my window down and hurl outside of his car if I had to again—which I had.
I half expected him to not bother with coming to a complete stop when he pulled up to the house, he was that pissed.
He was pissed because I hadn’t let him get his second nut of the night, and then he was pissed about the whole puke-fest thing at the hotel and again on the way home.
Oh well. No matters.
Mission accomplished—for now anyway.
Chapter 9
* * *
I awake the following morning with the sun shining obtrusively through the mini-blinds in my bedroom, and my head pounding from the after effects of the champagne I’d consumed the night before.
I glance over at the clock on my nightstand and see it’s past nine a.m.
Shit!
Jesse goes back to work today. Why hasn’t Scout gotten me up? She’s typically up with the roosters.
I haul ass out of bed and then stagger with some dizziness as I try like hell to get my bearings.
I grab a pair of shorts, slipping them on and then make a quick trip to Scout’s room. Her bed is made and she’s nowhere around. I call out for her.
“We’re in the kitchen,” I hear Jesse holler.
What’s he doing home?
I enter the kitchen and see that Scout is finishing the last of her cold cereal. She senses I’m in trouble for something, probably because Jesse should be back to work today after having the 4th of July long weekend.
“Can I go now, Dad?”
“Yeah. Go play in your room for a bit. Brush your teeth.”
“Okay.” And she’s gone.
He’s sipping coffee from his mug, tapping his fingers on the table.
I grab a mug and fill it with coffee, hoping it will breathe some energy into my hung-over ass. I’ve never drank before, and after last night, I have no urge to ever do it again.
“Sit down,” he orders firmly. “I want you to tell me what happened last night—no lies this time either.”
I nod and quietly take a seat at the table across from him.
“It was my fault. It was my stupid idea to drink alcohol—so please don’t blame Austin.”
“How the hell did you even get hold of it? He’s not even twenty-one yet?”
“I don’t want to go into it all, Jesse. It was my fault. I take the blame so dish out whatever punishment you see fit. The only thing that Austin did was to try and get me sobered up a bit before he brought me home. He feels really, really bad.”
“Damn it, he should feel bad. The boy’s ready to leave for the armed forces. Seems to me that he’d have a little bit more common sense than that what he’s shown.”
“I told you it was my fault—please don’t blame him.”
“I’ve got a good notion to let Casey know exactly the type of boy she introduced you to. Maybe the both of us should set him down and have a talk with him about this.”
“No!” I shout, drawing his eyes to me immediately. “I mean I don’t plan on seeing him again. If you bring this up to Casey, well—it’s gonna embarrass me and who knows? It could put a rift between the two of you and then I’d feel like I was to blame. I’m the one that should be punished.”
He’s silent, muddling it around in his head. “Are you sure that’s all that happened. Did he try . . . uh, I mean, did he take advantage of you when you were under the influence or anything?”
I’m legitimately turning beet red under his questioning. My eyes don’t meet his.
“Of course he didn’t take advantage of me. I wasn’t that drunk.”
“Alright,” he finally replies. “But you need to understand the severity of this, September. I called off work today because I just wasn’t sure that you’d be up to handling Scout. I need for you to make better choices so I don’t worry about what’s going on when I’m not here; that’s important to me.”
“I totally understand. I’m sorry and you have my solemn promise that I won’t make such immature and irrational choices in the future.”
He takes a long draw of his coffee and glances at the clock on the wall. “Okay, good. Now if you’re up to handling her, I’m gonna go on down to the job site. We’ve got a deadline to meet and I don’t want to have it set back because I missed a full day.”
I get up, clearing the breakfast dishes. “I’m fine. You go on to work and don’t worry. Everything will be taken care of here.”
Austin phones me later in the afternoon as I’m going through the two-drawer file cabinet in Jesse’s room, looking for old tax returns.
“Hey,” he says when I answer, “Feeling better today?”
“I’m fine,” I reply, rolling my eyes because I can clearly see what a money-grubbing dickhead he is. I finally put my hands on a manila envelope that has “2007 Tax Return” scribbled across it.
“Did you get in any trouble for being late getting home?”
“Nope.”
Bingo! Mama’s social security number! Whoo-hoo!
“Hey,” Austin says, using a huskier voice, “You know, I’d really like to see you again.”
; My attention reverts back to the on-going conversation. I want to laugh in his face, but of course I can’t since we’re on the phone and not in person.
“I don’t think so, Austin.”
A silent moment passes.
“Why not?”
“What’s the point? I head back to Meridian at the end of next month, and you head off to boot camp, so what’s the point?”
“I guess I didn’t consider that there has to be a point,” he replies. “I thought we really connected last night.”
“We did, for all of two minutes, but that’s all the connecting we’re gonna do. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
“What the hell?”
“Listen—I gotta fix lunch for Scout. It was really nice hanging out with you and good luck in the military.”
End Call.
I hurry next door with the information that Casey’s going to need to give to her brother-in-law to find Mama: Social security number and date of birth.
She smiles as she comes to the door. “Well hey there, September,” she greets. “How was your date last night with Austin?”
“It was great,” I lie, “But we’re not going to see each other again.”
“Oh?”
“Well, it’s just that I don’t want to get hung up on a guy that’s getting ready to do a stint in the service, you know? I’m not that kind of girl at all. I’ve got to form a relationship that’s not so long distance I guess.”
“Oh—I see. Well I guess once you’re back in Meridian you’ll have no problem with the boys wanting to take you out. I just thought it would be nice for you to have someone around your age to hang out with while you’re here this summer.”
Sure you did.
“Well Scout and Jesse keep me busy enough. But hey, I’ve got the information for my mother you asked for,” I reply, giving her a piece of paper that I’d copied down her social security number and date of birth on.
“Fantastic,” she says, beaming. “I’ll get Alan on the phone this afternoon and see what he can find out. I’m getting ready to make lunch for Catherine and Scout since she’s over here. Care to join us?”
“Thanks, but I have laundry piling up over at the house,” I reply. “Just send Scout home afterwards if you will. She’s got some cleaning to do in her room.”
“Sure thing,” Casey says. “I’ll keep you posted on the other thing.” She gives me a wink, holding up the piece of paper I’ve given her.
Chapter 10
* * *
Three days later as I’m getting dinner started Casey is rapping loudly at the back door, calling out my name.
“It’s open,” I holler from the kitchen.
“When will Jesse be home?” she asks, out of breath.
“Did you run all the way over here?” I ask, seeing that she’s definitely having a difficult time catching her wind. She gives me a strange look.
“Yeah, I did,” she replies, collapsing down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “When will Jesse be home?”
“Would you like a glass of water or some iced tea?”
She’s looking at me now as if I’ve got a screw loose because I haven’t answered her question. The truth is, I’m never sure when Jesse will be home when he’s on a big job like this. It’s Friday, so sometimes he stays late to get things scheduled for Monday.
“Casey, I don’t know. But he’s not out of town working, so he’ll be home yet tonight—what’s the problem?” I ask, frowning. “Did you find out something about our mother?”
It finally occurs to me that this might be the reason she’s so excited and flustered. She has information that she’s dying to give to Jesse. She probably is hoping it will further endear herself to him.
Hah! If only she knew…
“I have some information,” she replies slowly, “I’m not absolutely sure it’s accurate though, but your father needs to look into it. I’m not comfortable giving it to you first, honey.”
Then why the hell did you run over here like your ass was on fire?
“You’re scaring me now. Is it . . . bad news?”
She’s wringing her hands now, struggling with indecision. “I totally shouldn’t have come over here until I knew Jesse was home. Honey, I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not for sure, but it’s possible your mother passed away two years ago . . . in Mexico. That’s why nothing’s for sure. I mean, why would she have been in Mexico? The facts are really sketchy, too. So let’s just wait and see what your father—I mean, Jesse can find out about it, okay? He legally has the authority to access the information necessary more than Alan does.”
I swallow. My mouth has turned to sand. No matter what I think of my mother—and the way that she had simply taken off and left us, it has never occurred to me that she could be dead. I mean, why wouldn’t we have been notified by someone . . . anyone?
“Oh God! September, honey, I shouldn’t have said a word. I’m so, so sorry sweetie. Are you okay?”
“I need to be alone. Can you please stay until Jesse gets home?”
“Absolutely, darlin’. You go lie down and please keep in mind that we don’t know anything for sure yet, okay? I’ll get the girls inside and finish making dinner.”
I nod. “Thanks,” I mumble, leaving the kitchen.
I’m numb with the possibility that my mother may not have totally deserted us as we all believed for the past several years. I mean, it clearly never dawned on me—or my grandparents—or even Jesse that Mama was being anything but selfish and self-centered. How could any of us, me included, not have given her the benefit of the doubt?
I find solace in my room, laying across my bed, hugging one of my pillows as the tears stream down my cheeks.
The sun has long since set when I hear Jesse come home. I had fallen into a restless sleep after exhausting myself with tears and self-loathing.
It’s twenty minutes later when he taps on my bedroom door. “September are you awake?”
“Yeah,” I call out meekly. “Come in.”
He opens the door, switching on the overhead light as he enters and softly closes the door behind him. “Casey told me what she’d found out about your ma. Now let’s not put the cart before the horse until we find out for sure.”
I nod solemnly, the tears start flowing again. “Why did she have to stick her nose into this anyway?” I lash out, feeling honest anger now. “I’d rather have gone on thinking Mama left us than to find out that she’s dead!”
He is at my side in an instant, sitting down on my bed, and pulling me into his arms. His strong arms are where I’m meant to be. He hasn’t held me in his arms since I was a little kid; before Scout was ever born.
I remember he had been teaching me to ride a two-wheeler. He finally let go of the bike, instructing me to keep pedaling, assuring me that I could do it. And I did! I was riding that bike by myself, and so damn proud because I knew I had made him proud. That was important to me. Then, out of nowhere, the front tire hit a rock. I’d lost my balance, toppling over onto the asphalt drive. He had run over, scooping me up into these same strong arms, and had comforted me, all the while checking me for damage. I had tried my best not to cry, but I was skinned up. Once I saw the blood, I let loose. Jesse said it was all right. He said that everyone cries every now and then, and it doesn’t make them a sissy.
His hand smoothes through my hair as he murmurs to me gently. “She said you asked for her help.”
I pull back, wiping my cheeks and give him a look of disbelief. “What?” I sputter, “That’s just not true. Why would she tell you that? She’s the one that asked me for Mama’s social security number and her date of birth. Said her brother-in-law is good at finding people that run off like that.”
I’m sobbing again and he draws me close. “I’m sorry; I don’t know what the hell Casey was thinking nosing into my shit like that.”
“I guess she just wants to make sure you’re free . . . you know . . . to marry her
someday soon. I guess now you don’t need to bother with a divorce, do you? If Mama is dead, then you’re free to marry Casey.”
“Hush,” he says in his soft, husky voice. “This is not the time or place to even think about that.”
Once again, I pull away from him, using the back of my hand to wipe the wetness from my cheeks. I furrow my brow, recalling how excited Casey had been when she had come flying over here this afternoon.
He’s watching me closely. “What is it?”
“She’s happy about it,” I state plainly.
“Who?”
“Casey,” I say, throwing a hiss into her name.
“Happy about what?”
“About the news that Mama might be dead.”
“Oh, darlin’, no,” he replies gently. “Casey isn’t happy about something like that.”
“Yes she is,” I argue, my voice becoming emphatic. “You weren’t here when she came flying over here this afternoon. She was all excited; she couldn’t wait to tell me. She even smiled at me afterwards, telling me to go lay down because she wanted to wait here so that she could give you the news.”
I sob again; my breathing is ragged until I’m gasping, nearly on the edge of hysteria. “It makes perfect sense now.”
“What does?”
“The afternoon of that cook-out she had I went over to return Catherine’s dolls and to see if you know, she wanted me to bring anything to the barbecue. Before I could knock on her back door, I heard her on the phone with her sister I guess it was. Her name is Trish—she’s Austin’s mother.”
I hesitate with the story, but Jesse prods me along.
“Go on,” he says, his interest clearly piqued.
“Well, she was telling her that she’d have you snagged before the summer was out, and that my coming here had put a damper on her plans.” I was sobbing again, trying to get the last part out. “She paid Austin to take me out!” I wail. “How humiliating is that?”
I bury my face, tears streaming down my cheeks and all against Jesse’s hard chest. He wraps his arms around me snugly, patting my back trying to soothe me.
Loving Jesse Page 5