You were right. Your dad knows.
Chapter Seventeen
Brooke set a hot pan of chicken cordon bleu on a counter against the wall and slipped off the oven mitts, her nerves shot. She could only wonder how the golf outing was going today and what she didn’t know, her imagination filled in the blanks. Her cell phone vibrated angrily against the table in the middle of Mrs. Randall’s kitchen, drawing her attention. A bad feeling crept into her bones like a cold December wind. She read the text. The color slowly left her cheeks, her gut right again. She looked up, not seeing anything in particular, the old Hobart nothing more than a silver backdrop for the horrid scenarios running rampant through her mind.
She squeezed her eyes shut and cringed with her stupidity. A snapshot of images flickered through her mind: her box of precious belongings sitting on the front porch when she returned home from work, her parents unable to look at her – let alone talk to her.
Brooke’s gray haired reflection suddenly popped into the mirror in her mind, wrinkled and drawn, eyes brimming with a hopelessness that knew no end. Alone. Long haired cat curling around her worn pink slippers. No family pictures on the fridge. Alone.
“Great.” She set the cell down and glanced at the clock, wondering how in the hell she would manage the next nine hours without leaving early. She knew the longer she waited to explain her side of the story, the longer her father would have to fester. Unfortunately, they were serving a wedding reception at the Hyperion this evening and if anything went remotely wrong, the groom’s newly appointed monster-in-law would have Mrs. Randall’s head on a stick before her warm body could hit the ground.
“Damn!” She threw another pan of chicken cordon bleu into the oven and slammed the door shut, confident her time to shine would never come to pass.
***
The box wasn’t sitting on the front porch when Brooke returned to her parents’ house, which wasn’t dark as she had hoped it would be. They were still up. She shut off the car and sat in the driveway, her insides clenching. It had been a long day and the last thing she wanted to do right now was face the music. The moment of wanting to get it over with had come and gone with her energy.
A rusty squeak punctured the night when she opened her car door. Her legs felt like sandbags. One after the other, she dragged them up the driveway, the smell of chicken and grease floating from her hair.
The lights were on in the living room but the TV wasn’t. It was quiet. Dead quiet. Gently, she shut the front door and tiptoed down the hall, dreading what she would find around the corner. Brooke’s heart beat out of rhythm as she poked her head into the living room. They must have heard her come inside, felt her coming down the hall, yet neither of them moved on the couch. It was a chilly night but the fireplace was as dark as the feeling in the pit of Brooke’s stomach. She opened her mouth to apologize and Will looked up from his Kindle. The look on his face caused her to close her mouth and swallow her words.
Laura stared straight ahead at a dark fifty-five inch flat screen, a similar shade of emptiness pasted across her face. Brooke felt caught in the clammy clutches of a fever dream, where nothing looked exactly right, yet, for some reason, was easy to accept.
Mouth too dry to form words, her tongue made a clicking sound when she peeled it from the roof of her mouth. The purse she had forgotten to leave on the sofa table by the door cut into her shoulder like it was filled with bricks.
“You guys still up?” she asked, her voice cracking.
Will stared at her like he didn’t understand the question and then returned his attention to the e-reader. Laura just stared off into some shadowy world only she could see playing out on the TV.
Brooke shifted in her black Nikes.
“So how long did you think you could keep up your little charade?” Will looked up from what was, most likely, either a Stephen King or Dean Koontz novel on last year’s Christmas present he had protested against at first, and grown to love over time. He narrowed his sunken eyes. “Why did you lie to us about the date rape drug?”
She opened her mouth to bolster her case but the words clung to the tip of her tongue. She forgot everything she had planned on saying and fell into a dark abyss where words held no meaning.
“Well?” he snapped.
“I’m sorry.” She filled her lungs so she could raise her voice. “I-I never wanted any of this to happen.”
“I bet! Because I happen to know for a fact…this is not how you were raised.”
The last bit of wind left Brooke’s sails. Her shoulders sank along with her pride.
This is not how you were raised.
His words came across as harsh and cold, spoken like a complete stranger. Like he had turned something off inside.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, horrified by the placid look enveloping her mother’s expression. Brooke ignored the lone tear rolling down her cheek. Even her own mother couldn’t stand to look at her. She closed her eyes and tried to wake up, like when you finally figure out you are in a bad dream and can sometimes make it stop.
“You made me look like a fool today!”
Her eyes popped back open. She stared at her father, still caught in the dream, unable to wake up.
“Look at your poor mother for God’s sake, she’s nearly catatonic.”
Brooke reached out to touch her mother’s shoulder and pulled back instead, fearful of Laura’s response.
Will twisted around on the couch to face her. “When you and your sister graduated from high school, we gave you two choices: go to college or get a job and get out of our house. This is our time to enjoy the fruits of our labor, to be proud of the two beautiful daughters we brought up to become intelligent women. That is our reward.”
“Dad, I know what you’re…” Brooke’s heart thumped loudly in her chest. Everything went blurry.
This is not how you were raised.
Her father’s words stung deep, dragging through her mind like a specter’s heavy chains. And there was no taking them back. The damage was done. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his tone.
“He is not right for you.”
Brooke looked to her mother. The coldness in her voice gave Brooke the chills.
Without moving the rest of her body, Laura turned her head to meet Brooke’s broken gaze. “I am embarrassed you think you have to lie to us, and about something as terrible as that.”
Brooke blinked more tears down her paling face.
“I almost called the cops on this guy!” Will barked. “Do you know what a false report like that can do to an individual?” He waited for Brooke to respond, but not long. “It can ruin them!”
Brooke flinched and took a tentative step back, wiping at her cheeks, unnerved by her father’s rare outburst.
Will exhaled a calming breath. “I’m sorry, but what you did was wrong.”
She nodded, squeezing out more tears.
“And with Mandy’s boyfriend of all people,” Will said. “What were you thinking?”
“I told you he didn’t tell me who he was. I had never met him before!”
Will tipped his chin down. “You are batting way below your average with someone like that, Brooke, and you know it.” He paused to judge her reaction. “Don’t you?”
“Of course she does, dear,” Laura said. “She knows we wouldn’t approve of her dating someone like that, let alone lying to us to bring him into our lives.”
“Then why do it?”
Laura folded her arms across her dress. “She may be an old soul, but she’s young at heart and still foolish.”
Brooke’s eyes thinned, a bubble of anger rising through the shame swelling inside. “Will you stop talking like I’m not here? I hate that!”
Will’s hardened demeanor cracked a little before firming up again. “Brooke, you have violated the sanctity of this house. You have violated our trust, and you have violated yourself. And we will not sit idly by and watch that happen.” His eyes turned glassy. “You will never bri
ng that piece of garbage into this house again. Do you understand me?”
His words rang hollow inside her head, conjuring up a reverberating vision of future Brooke with long nails and a hateful existence. Alone. Her stomach knotted. A dull thud grew behind her right eye. “You don’t know anything about him.”
Will leaned forward. “I know enough, goddammit!”
She wiped her tears away in the thunderstruck silence that followed. “You know what? I think maybe I’ll stay with Evy tonight.” Brooke turned and dashed into her bedroom.
“Running is not the answer, Brooke,” Laura yelled after her.
Brooke threw her things in the box and power walked to the foyer, where Will was waiting for her with his back to the door.
“You don’t have to leave.”
“I know,” she sniffled, adjusting her grip on the box. “I just want to…”
“Talk to your sister?”
She replied with a tight-lipped nod that spilled another tear down her cheek.
“You can call her. It’s too late to leave, and don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
“I think it would be best.”
Will stared hard at her, breathing through his mouth. She adjusted the box again and he opened the door. “I’m…” He paused to gather his thoughts. “Be careful,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. Brooke stepped onto the front porch and glanced back at him one more time before stepping into the night and sliding behind the wheel of her car.
Chapter Eighteen
The driveway felt lonelier than it ever had before. The same driveway she had learned to ride a bike in and, subsequently, skinned her knee up so badly it had left a scar that was still visible today. Unlike that day, however, her mother’s Band-Aid and comforting words were nowhere to be found. The porch light turned off, plunging her further into the darkness consuming her thoughts.
She inhaled a deep breath and tried to rise above them. Her cell phone made her squint as she flipped through her contacts, tapped at the screen and pressed it to her ear. Hostile thoughts raced through her mind much faster than the phone could ring.
“Hey you, what’s up?”
“Evy,” she blurted, trying not to cry.
Evy’s tone tightened. “What’s wrong?”
Brooke inhaled a hefty breath and readied herself for the cold plunge ahead. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
There was a moment of silence as her words settled in.
“Why?”
Brooke stared at the house, imagining her father coming out to apologize. But he didn’t. She filled her lungs with the crisp night air, tears claiming her cheeks once again. “I just need to get out of here for a minute.”
A shuffling noise shook through the line as Evy moved to a different room. “Richie is staying here for a few days while they remodel his bathroom but there’s plenty of room.”
An image of Evy’s tiny one bedroom apartment fluttered through her mind, Richie waltzing around in his underwear. She winced at the timing. “Oh no, that’s okay, I’ll…”
“Brooke, don’t be silly, you can sleep on the couch. We’re getting ready to watch ‘The Shining’, so you’ll have that to look forward to,” Evy grumbled into the phone. “I’ll probably have nightmares but we have to watch every stupid movie all over again in Blu-ray now.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“You’re not imposing. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
Brooke pictured herself in the bathroom, Richie rapping softly on the door. “No, I’ll call Tasha and text you when I get there.”
Silence stretched the six miles between them.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Will you at least tell me what happened?”
Another quiet moment passed between them and Brooke didn’t want to hang up. She wanted to talk to Evy longer, like those late nights in high school, but needed to get out of that driveway even more.
“It’s no big deal, they’re just not used to having someone else around and it’s kind of…”
“Weird now?”
“Yeah,” she said with a soft laugh. “I’m up shit creek without a paddle.”
Evy chuckled softly into the phone. “I can’t even imagine.”
“I’ll text you when I get to Tasha’s.”
“Okay, talk to you later, and call me if you change your mind.”
Brooke hung up without saying goodbye and looked up. The house’s dark windows looked like eyes watching her every move. She peered at what she could swear was a silhouette looking out the living room window, started the car and shifted into reverse.
***
Neon beer signs lit up the gas station’s windows, which didn’t look like eyes at all. Brooke put the red Ford Escape into park and let out a pent-up breath, glad to have put some distance between her and her devastated parents. An older man with a gray beard and ratty stocking cap sauntered past on the sidewalk, ambling toward the front door. He flashed Brooke a crooked smile that made her casually ensure her doors were locked. They were, so she dug the cell from her purse. Her thumb hovered above the screen as her mind transported her to Tasha’s apartment three hours in the future, where Tasha and her two roommates would return with whatever science experiments they had dragged home from the bars and start cranking music loud enough to rouse the neighbors.
Brooke exhaled a weary breath and checked her watch. She had to be at work at nine in the morning, which gave her exactly nine hours and forty-four minutes to find a place to stay and get a good night’s sleep, while still leaving time to shower and unwind.
Her thumb hit the call button, blood pumping thickly in her ears. She cringed at the idea of it all and pulled the phone from her ear to hang up.
“Hello?”
She stared at the screen, the call connected, timer counting. Her thumb went to the END button but didn’t press it. Instead, she pulled the phone back to her ear and cleared her throat.
“I got your text.”
Just the sound of his breathing did something to her insides that she didn’t like. Not one bit. She liked being in control and with him around, control was in short supply.
“I’m sorry, Brooke, I screwed up. He saw one of my tats when I reached for a ball and put two and two together.” Ben snorted into the line. “I have a feeling he knew all along, but who knows.”
“Yeah, I kinda had that feeling to begin with, Ben. Remember?”
“I’m sorry.” He sounded tired. “What’d he say?”
Brooke exhaled a sour breath as a Volkswagen Beetle pulled in with wilted flowers drooping in the dash. “Let’s just say I’m back in my car with all my worldly possessions.”
His voice raised a little, the glimmer of hope lining his tone. “Do you need a place to crash?”
“No!”
“Yes, you do.”
She glanced at the clock in the dash, cursing its pressurized glow. “No, I don’t.”
“Where are you?”
She started to speak but stopped short as the bearded man stumbled back out the gas station. “Right around the corner.”
The phone swished in her ear as Ben started moving around. She imagined him rounding up loose socks or empty pizza boxes but, after seeing his spotless pad, figured it wouldn’t take long. “The sliding glass door is unlocked. Come on in.”
“I’m not coming to your place.”
“Yes, you are and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Are you crazy? That is the last thing I need right now.”
The man rambled closer, his bloodshot eyes fixated on Brooke.
“Please.”
“Fine.” She hung up and stared at the screen, stunned by how much things had changed in such a short amount of time. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she just had to hang on a little while longer. Evy was right. Things would get better. They always did.
A knock on her window made her scream. She backed away from the bearded
man’s filthy hand like he could reach through the glass and grab her. He motioned for her to roll the window down but Brooke started the car instead.
“You like dolphins?” he yelled through the window as Brooke shifted into reverse. “I know one who’ll let us pet it!” He stretched a confident smile, revealing teeth that reminded her of an old picket fence that had seen one too many storms. He followed as she slowly backed up, yanking on the door handle, trying to get in. “I can take us to him! I just need a ride.”
Brooke slammed on the brakes, nearly clipping a beat up minivan taking its sweet time pulling into the lot. She cursed under her breath and the man stumbled into the car, his wrinkled face pressing up against the glass, giving 3D a whole new meaning.
He took advantage of the extra time to start making what Brooke could only assume were dolphin noises. “See? I can communicate with them!”
She finally cleared enough ground to back up a little more and slip into drive. “Tell your friend I said hi,” she said, flipping the man off and getting into the gas.
***
The door cracked open and Brooke’s eyes dropped to Ben’s bare chest. He had the perfect amount of hair running across his rolling fields of muscle. The sleeves of tats gripping his arms made him look superhuman, like he should be wearing a cape at all times. She tried looking back up to his face before her gaze slipped to his six-pack abs but it was no use. Another epic fail. She could almost feel that washboard beneath her fingers, could almost feel the V in his hips beneath her lips. And she knew what was hiding inside of those sweats. There was nowhere to hide for a monster like that.
“Where’s your box?”
Her eyes jerked up to meet his. “In the car.” She pushed past him, trying not to let her arm brush against his stomach. Failure struck again, sending tingles rippling across her flesh. She set her purse down on a chair. Just like last time, the place was in perfect order and she liked him for that. Had there been crap strewn everywhere, her patience may have reached its limit.
Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted Page 15