by Nicole Fox
The conversation between Bambi and the cops lasted less than a minute, and it consisted mostly of her talking. “He didn’t kidnap me. I went with him because I wanted to. My mother is just claiming I was taken because she wants the attention.” She kept her chin in the air as she spoke, putting on a strong front.
“I don’t know.” He scratched the back of his head uncertainly. “She was the one who filed the charges, and until she has officially dropped them …”
“She’ll drop them as soon as I’m home,” Bambi promised. “Just take me back to Myrtle Creek, and everything will be fine.” She stepped toward the back door of the squad car. “Just be careful with me, I’m pregnant.”
I felt more than I saw the guys stiffen when they heard the words. My own muscles seemed not to know what to do, tensing but unable to move. I had lied to them in order to get them to shut up, but I had been right. Maybe I had known on some subconscious level, or maybe I had just been so hopeful. Either way, this beautiful woman was carrying my child. “Bambi …”
She looked at me over the car door, scorn and sadness mixing in her eyes. “I’m glad I helped you win your bet.” Bambi got in the car, and the sergeant shut the door.
I didn’t even feel the handcuffs coming off my wrists, and I didn’t quite register Bruiser as he grabbed me by the arm and led me back toward the bar. There was only one way Bambi could have heard about the bet: she had heard everything the guys and I had said around the pool table. That was why she hadn’t come back to me after the trip to the store and why she had left in tears. Hell, that was why she had gone to the damn pharmacy! She wasn’t sick, she was just pregnant. It was no surprise the pharmacy clerk had refused to tell me what Bambi had bought in there. I had to wonder if Bambi had called in my location to the police, but I instantly denied the idea. She had left me, and that was bad enough.
“Come on. I’m gonna buy you a drink or six. You look like you need it.” Bruiser guided me inside and sat me down at the bar. “Get him a beer,” he ordered, “and keep them coming until he’s passed out on the floor and swimming in his own puke.”
Rusty plopped down on the other side of me and clapped me hard on the shoulder, somewhat jolting me back to reality. “Hey, you’re better off without her anyway.”
I turned a gimlet eye to him. “Why do you say that?”
He spread his hands wide as though it was obvious. “She was just weighing you down. Now you don’t have to worry about taking care of anyone. You’re free to just be yourself. That’s the life we wanted to live, right? Isn’t that why you joined the Warriors? I know that’s why I did.”
“She didn’t weigh me down,” I argued though gritted teeth. Bruiser wrapped my fingers around the handle of a beer mug, but I kept it firmly on the surface of the bar. “She was with me because I wanted her to be. You’re just talking shit because you couldn’t get anyone to stay with you for more than a night. That manager of that motel wouldn’t have come with you if you paid her.”
“Hey, now.” Rusty’s face was flushing, as it usually did when he got mad. It was a constant joke for the rest of us when the big, ginger-haired man became even redder than usual. But at the moment I didn’t find it funny, and neither did he. “You don’t have to go attacking me just because you had a bad night. That bitch was nothing more than a bet, after all.”
I launched myself at him, knocking him backwards off his barstool and landing on top of him as we hit the floor. My fists flew, impacting his jaw and his cheeks as he tried to ward me off. But I had knocked the wind out of him, and I had the upper hand. “Don’t you dare call her a bitch or a bet, you asshole! She was mine, and what happened with her was my business, not yours! I ought to beat the holy living shit out of you!” And I was. It felt good to let my fists fly after they had been bound in the parking lot. Blood poured from his nose.
Hands grabbed me by my arms and around my waist and dragged me off of him. Someone turned me around, and I was facing Bruiser. He grabbed me by the shoulders and got in my face. “Stop! Calm the fuck down! Now you can sit here and have some drinks or you can go back to the motel, but I’m not having any more of this shit tonight! It’s not worth it.” He shoved me back toward my barstool.
Axle and Rubble helped Rusty back to his feet, and handed him a rag to press against his nose. He disappeared into the bathroom to clean up.
I picked up the beer Bruiser had bought me and tipped it back, chugging until only a little foam clung to the inside of the glass. Yes, it had been a bad night, and it was going to be a long one.
Chapter 12
Bambi
I scrolled through the list of available classes and frowned at the computer screen. There were so many options, and it was impossible to wrap my brain around what I needed to do. There were some that I could take online, but I longed to get out of the house and interact with other students. I wished I could go to the local college and actually speak with a counselor, but that wasn’t going to happen. No matter what decisions I made, there was one big obstacle that I had to get out of the way before I could do anything about them.
I was back to living under Mother’s rule. It was even worse than it had been before. I couldn’t take one step out the door or hardly even look out the window without her jumping out of nowhere and yelling at me. “It’s not safe out there!” she would scream, or “You don’t want the newspeople snapping pictures of you when you aren’t ready, do you?” This was usually followed by a detailed critique of my skincare routine and how much conditioner I was using. And in some sense, I couldn’t quite argue with her when it came to the news. She had created a media circus with her claims of my kidnapping, and she had been effective in keeping me away from anyone whom I might tell the truth. There was no way Monique Bidwell was going to be made a fool of, especially if her daughter was the one who wanted to do it.
The last few weeks had passed with a painful slowness. Every day, I woke up with my stomach lurching up through my throat as though it was trying to escape the child growing within me. I had taken to keeping crackers and a glass of water at my bedside, because I couldn’t seem to get up in the morning without it. Of course, there was little reason for me to get up. There was no place for me to go, no friends to talk to, and no real idea of just what I was going to do with myself. Most of all, there was no Snake.
That was what hurt the most. Snake was a biker, a rough guy and a badass. Going on his looks alone, I never could have expected him to be a decent man. But he had shown me, in those tiny little ways he had, that he really was more than just a man on a motorcycle. There were no grand gestures other than the one he had made when he had taken me in and let me go with him after Mother kicked me out. But I knew now that he hadn’t been gallant or kind, he had just been out to win a bet. After all, what better way to get a girl knocked up than to keep her close so you can have sex every night?
As mad as I was at Snake, I was angry at myself. I had been stupid enough to fall for him and to fall for his games. It was my gullibility that had gotten me into that situation, and I wasn’t much better off with Snake than I had been with Mother. After all, he had essentially kept me prisoner, swearing that he would never let me leave. I had been adapting to his lifestyle without question, doing what he wished and when. I was nothing more than an idiot.
Mother had pretended to be grateful when the police had brought me home that night, but as soon as she was done with them she had turned to me with fury. “How dare you run off like that? Don’t you see all the trouble you’ve caused? Not just for me, but for the police and the citizens of Myrtle Creek and everyone else who worried about you? At the very least, you could have called.” Her hair was sticking up in all directions, making her look just as crazy as she sounded. She had tearfully swiped at her eyes as she had spoken to the police, making a long dark smudge of eyeliner across her temple.
“Mother, you kicked me out!” I had protested. In that moment, I didn’t mind standing up to her. I was angry at Snake, angry at myself
, and angry at her for lying about the situation and causing the whole fiasco with the cops. “You knew perfectly well I hadn’t been kidnapped.”
“I most certainly did not!” She stood tall—well, as tall as she could—and indignant. “You left here, but I had no way of knowing that awful biker man hadn’t captured you and made you his slave! Forgive me for thinking my daughter had better taste than that. I know I raised you better than that!”
“Did you?” I challenged. “Did you really even raise me at all? You’ve done nothing but stuff me into dresses and pouf up my hair and teach me how to wear makeup at far too young an age. You only cared about how I looked and how I performed. As long as I was putting trophies on the shelf, you were happy, but heaven forbid I should want to do something for myself for a change!”
“How dare you?” She poked one manicured finger into my chest. “I did far more for you than most mothers do for their children. You never would have won those trophies without me.” Mother threw her shoulders back and gave me a challenging look of indignance.
“I didn’t even want them in the first place!” Tears had streamed down my cheeks. “I would smash them all right now into little golden pieces if I felt I had the strength. And you know what? I’ll never win another one, because I’m pregnant!”
That had been the very last straw. The news had shut Mother’s mouth instantly. She pursed her lips as she trembled, her entire body shaking with hatred. “You horrid little brat,” she finally whispered, barely opening her mouth enough to speak. “I hope you know you’ve ruined your entire life. You’ll never be anybody now. All my hard work has gone right down the drain.” She had turned and gone to her bedroom, slamming the door so hard that the trophies on the mantel clinked against each other. She didn’t emerge until the next day.
After that, we lived like two strangers in the same house. We were in the same room when we had to be, but we each kept to ourselves as much as possible. I had noticed, though, that in the last few days she seemed to be in a far more pleasant mood. She smiled to herself as she made her coffee in the morning, and when she looked at me it was no longer with distaste but something else I couldn’t quite identify.
“Mother? Could you come in here for a moment?” My stomach shook, either from the baby or from fear. I had to have her permission if I wanted to do this, because I had no money to do it on my own. She hadn’t like the idea of college when I had graduated high school, thinking there were “better” opportunities out there for a young lady like me instead of burying my nose in a bunch of useless books. Clearly, that hadn’t worked out so well.
Mother came into the living room from the kitchen, where she had been flipping through numerous catalogues strewn about on the kitchen table. “What is it, dear?” she asked pleasantly.
The lilt in her voice sent a chill down my spine. I ignored her pet name and pointed at the screen. “Come look at these classes. They’re not too expensive, and I could take them from home.” My finger trembled, and I quickly set my hand back down on the mouse.
She frowned, but she did what I asked and crossed the room to bend over my shoulder. The cloying scent of her perfume wrapped around me like a noose, choking me. “Introduction to Writing? American Literature? What on earth would you take classes like that for?”
I had known this argument would be coming, and I was ready for it. “Ever since I came back, I’ve started writing again. I had done some of it in high school, and I forgot how much I loved it. Remember that award I got for my poetry?” I had received a certificate, not a trophy, and it had been buried in a box of schoolwork somewhere and forgotten.
She sniffed. “Yes, but I don’t see what good that’s going to do you. What would you even write about?”
I shrugged, floundering a little. “I’m sure I could find plenty of things to write about once I had the education under my belt. Maybe my experiences as a beauty queen would help other girls out.” I highly doubted it, but I had to find something that would make her a little more enthusiastic about the idea.
“You aren’t thinking straight, Bambi.” She picked my hair up off the back of my neck and began running it through her hands, pushing her fingernails between the strands to comb them out. “Even if you took the classes, and even if you got the degree, it isn’t as though someone would pay you to write. It would be a complete waste of my money and of your time.”
“But there are professional writers all over the place,” I countered. “Someone has to write for the newspaper or for magazines. People write commercials and movie scripts and pamphlets. There are plenty of jobs out there if you just think about them.”
“I’m sure you’re right. But are those people actually making any money? They’re behind the scenes, darling. Nobody sees them or cares about them. What a pity it would be to have you hiding behind a computer instead of out in the public.”
I turned to stare at her. The woman who had been refusing to even let me go to the corner store for a loaf of bread was talking about me being in the limelight. “What?”
“You know, honey, it isn’t as though everyone is just going to forget about you now that you’re home. You have some duties yet to perform as Peach Festival Queen. Now, don’t worry. I’ve been able to put off the town council and explain to them that you’re recovering, but it’s time that you get back out there.”
“Why would they want me at all? I would have thought they would have demanded that I resign my title by now.” I had tossed the crown in a roadside ditch, and the sash had been pitched in a garbage can at some random gas station. I hadn’t shown any respect for the title or the town, and it was hard to imagine that anyone could forget it.
Mother laughed, a sound that grated against my teeth. “Sweetheart, you never see the big picture, do you? That’s why you need me here at your side. You see, there’s going to be a ribbon cutting at that new convenience store on the edge of town, and that’s the perfect chance for you to go back to normal life. We’ll get you a new dress and everything.”
I was completely bewildered. “But I’m pregnant. Surely that rumor has flown around town already.” I knew how Myrtle Creek worked. You were good and wholesome and wonderful until you got yourself knocked up. Nobody ever blamed a guy, either. It was always the woman’s fault. That was what happened when you lived in a small southern town.
“Oh, I’ve got that all taken care of as well. You see, the local news is coming by tomorrow to do a follow-up piece on you. Everyone is anxious to see how you’re doing now that you’re home and safe again. We’ll confirm the rumors about the baby—because it isn’t as though we can really hide it—but you’ll let everyone know that awful biker raped you.”
A wave of shock nearly knocked me out of my chair. “We can’t do that! It isn’t true!”
She ignored me. “I don’t think we’ll share any details, not unless we get you a spot on a national news show or a documentary, which I fully expect to happen. A raped beauty queen? The media will descend on that like a bunch of buzzards, each of them fighting to get the exclusive.” Her face was lit with excitement as she stared into the distance and fantasized. “Maybe I should get you an agent? I could still be your manager, of course, but an agent with all the right connections—”
“Mother!”
“Yes, yes. You’re right. We need to focus on tomorrow’s interview first, and then we can take it from there. This will get you plenty of sympathy, and nobody will be able to cast any blame on you at all. The town will take its crowned sweetheart right back into its arms, and you can start living your life like you always did.”
I wasn’t interested in that same life, and I had thought I had been saved from at least some of it by the coming baby. “Mother, this isn’t right. Snake didn’t do anything wrong, and we can’t villainize him like this just for my sake. Or yours.” I said this last part quietly.
Mother rolled her eyes. “Snake. You think with a name like that he could ever be considered innocent? No matter what happened while
you were gone, you can’t tell me he was a complete angel. It’s just not like that in the real world, Bambi. Don’t go thinking people are nice and kind, because I promise you they aren’t.”
I had learned that lesson well, but mostly from watching her. I turned back toward the desk. “No, they’re not.”
“We’ll give it a couple months and play it out. After all, you are sweet and young and innocent, and you have high moral standards.” She continued to play with my hair, piling it up on my head and twisting it into little knots. “But we can do another news release down the road to let everyone know you miscarried.”
My vision tunneled, darkening around the edges until I could only see the brilliant computer screen. It was a shockingly white light, but it seemed so far away. “Miscarried?”
“Oh, don’t worry. We can find a nice family somewhere up north—nice and far away—to adopt the baby. But a miscarriage will buy you a few more months out of the spotlight. Once it’s done, we can whip you back into shape and get you out there again.” She clapped her hands together lightly as though she had just accomplished something delightful.