Say the Word

by Julie Johnson

  “Lux, tell me,” he continued, squeezing my arm tightly. “Has Sebastian given you the good news yet?”

  My eyes darted to Sebastian, unsure of what to say and afraid to get in the middle of whatever was happening here.

  “Dad.” Bash glared at his father, his reprimand even chillier than before.

  “But I’m so proud!” Andrew gushed, his spirited laughter filling the room. “See, Lux, he’s been accepted to Princeton in the fall!”

  I stilled, forcing a happy smile onto my face and avoiding Bash’s stare, which I could feel scanning my expression. “That’s fantastic,” I said, my fake enthusiasm discernible even to my own ears. I’d never been a very good actress.

  “I don’t know what we’ll do without him around here — Princeton’s in New Jersey. That’s nearly two thousand miles away!” Andrew added, as though I didn’t possess basic, elementary-level geographic knowledge about the location of our states. The moment was beginning to feel less like a conversation and more like a chess game between Sebastian and his father — each careful syllable a rook, each nuanced word a knight, sliding across a board of unspoken meanings and moving in for the kill.

  “With you here in Georgia and my boy up north, well, it’d be a miracle if you managed to make something like that work.” The senator smiled happily, his white teeth so perfect I wondered if he’d had them capped with porcelain veneers.

  “That’s enough,” Bash growled, reaching a hand across the space and grabbing my hand. With one sharp tug, he pulled me out from his father’s grip and settled me into his side. “We’re leaving.”

  “But we’ve barely gotten to know one another!” the Senator protested, grinning at Bash and me with an uncomfortably excited glint in his eyes. “Don’t steal Lux away yet. We’ve so much more to explore.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face as I watched Andrew’s eyes travel slowly down the length of my body, perusing my every curve with a blatantly sexual stare. Hoping for some kind of intervention, I turned my horrified gaze toward Judith only to find her staring impassively at the wall, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid clutched in her hand. She appeared completely uninterested in her husband’s actions — either she was well-practiced at looking the other way during his indiscretions, or she was so caught up in her own thoughts of glamorous gatherings and guest lists she failed to even notice his inappropriate leering.

  “Come on,” Bash whispered, pulling me away. “Let’s go.”

  “So nice to meet you, Lux!” Andrew called after us. I made the mistake of glancing back over my shoulder at him, and felt my stomach flip when he winked lecherously. “See you soon, dear!”

  Sebastian led me to the kitchen and outside, walking at a brisk pace. His anger was apparent in each stride he took, his steps pounding against the grass at an unmatchable pace as we made our way down the sloping lawn to the tree line. The sun had set hours ago and there was a chill in the air — I shivered, pulling my thin cardigan tighter around my short dress and trying not to stumble on my flimsy, borrowed pumps. I wasn’t used to walking in heels and, as I stumbled over a stray rock on the path through the woods, I knew I’d never become the sort of woman who wore them every day. They were so impractical.

  Guided by the faint glow of Sebastian’s cellphone, we eventually made it to the clearing. Bash pulled our wool blanket from the tree hollow in the giant oak. He spread the blanket across the grassy bracken and settled in, immediately pulling me down beside him. I lay across the blanket, my long hair spread out in the grass around me and my white dress glowing luminous in the moonlight. Bash rolled onto his side to face me, his head propped against his hand and his eyes on mine.

  “Lux, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “My father, he’s—”

  “Shh,” I breathed, reaching a finger up to press against his lips. “Don’t.”

  “The Princeton thing, it’s not definite. It’s just what he wants. And the way he looked at you…” Bash pressed his eyes closed at the thought and his upper lip curled in disgust. “I don’t know how to make this up to you, but I swear I will.”

  “Bash,” I said, rolling onto my side so we were face to face. “Stop. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

  “But my family—”

  “So they aren’t perfect. Think about who you’re talking to.” I smiled at him. “The only reason you haven’t met my parents is because they’re always at the bar, or passed out drunk on the couch. ‘Dysfunctional’ is inscribed somewhere on our family crest.”

  A small smile crept across Bash’s face.

  “You aren’t your family. You aren’t your father,” I told him, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. “I love you because of who you are — not because of them. You could’ve been raised by a troupe of con artists or circus performers and I’d still love you.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at me.

  “Yeah.” I kissed him deeply, twining my arms around his back and looping one of my legs around his waist. He pulled me flush against him, rolling onto his back so I was sprawled across his chest.

  “You know what I think, Freckles?” he asked, his hands skimming down my back in a possessive gesture.

  I shook my head.

  “Babies have no say about which crib they end up in. I didn’t pick my parents anymore than you chose yours. I think real family is the family you get a say in — it’s the family you build with someone you love. And I know one day, when we’re married and you’re the size of a house, pregnant with my baby inside you…” His hands stilled on my sides as he stared into my eyes. “I’ll have made my real family. Our family.”

  My heart fluttered in my chest and my eyes began to tear, but I forced a stern expression onto my face. “Maybe I don’t want babies with someone who thinks I’ll be the size of a house.”

  Bash grinned. “Yeah, you do.”

  “I don’t like you,” I informed him, trying my best to maintain a glare.

  “I know,” he whispered, cupping the back of my neck and guiding my lips against his. “But you love me.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I grumbled, smiling as our kiss deepened and we forgot all about the party still going on inside, and the parents we’d had no choice in.

  ***

  “I’ll grab your coat. Meet me by the car in five minutes,” Bash said, leading me back toward the house.

  “Okay,” I agreed, squeezing his hand tightly as we approached the dark mansion. The party guests had all gone home, but I didn’t want to chance an encounter with either of Sebastian’s parents. “I just want to say goodbye to Greta.”

  Bash smiled. “She likes you.”

  “I like her,” I countered, bumping my hip against his.

  He kissed my forehead quickly, then headed for the side door into the house. “See you in a minute.”

  “Not if I see you first!” I whispered, grinning as I made my way across the patio toward the back entrance to the kitchen. The glass paneled door swung open on soundless hinges, and I stepped into the dim room. Only the faint light above the stove was left illuminated — all of the other kitchen lights had been switched off for the night. I scanned the space for Greta, hoping she was still awake, and my eyes caught on the light creeping out beneath the crack of the ajar pantry door across the room.

  She must’ve gone in there to put away the party leftovers, I thought, skirting around the kitchen island and heading for the small entrance. The sound — a terrified, mewling protest — reached my ears just as I reached the door. What I saw through the open crack made my blood run cold.

  Greta wasn’t alone in the pantry.

  Andrew’s hands roamed the maid’s body freely, despite her cowering. She didn’t attempt to fight him off, but her distress was clear on her face. He groped at her breasts and though his back was to me, I imagined the lascivious look on his face.

  “Shh,” he muttered, moving one of his hands down to the bottom of her uniform. “Be a good girl, Greta. It’s only me. I thought w
e resolved all this, the last time.”

  When his hand moved beneath her skirt, Greta cried out in despair and her wide blue eyes flashed with horror. My mind reeled, searching for an explanation, seeking some kind of justification for this, but there was none. This was no tawdry dalliance between master and maid — no secret affair between two willing partners. This was rape.

  I watched my hand like it belonged to a stranger, as it lifted and pushed the door open with enough force that its impact against the pantry wall set the cans rattling on their shelves. The loud bang was enough to stop the progression of Andrew’s hands. When he turned to me, his eyes still swirling with lust, I saw surprise flash in his expression.

  He hadn’t expected it to be me at the door.

  Greta’s face showed both terror and relief, and as her hands worked to smooth her uniform back into place, she cast a grateful look in my direction.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said, my cold tone saying otherwise. “I was just looking for Greta. I promised her a ride home.”

  “How odd — Greta usually drives herself home,” Andrew said, still panting slightly as he stared at me with a challenge in his eyes.

  “Her car battery died,” I added, lying through my teeth with my furious eyes locked on the senator.

  “Well, that’s very generous of you to offer, Lux, but I’m happy to drive Greta home. After all, she is mine.” He smiled at me and I thought I might be sick. “My employee, that is.”

  “I insist,” I bit out between clenched teeth. I kept my eyes on the senator, but extended my hand into the open space and spoke to the frightened woman. “Come on, Greta. Let’s go.”

  I waited until I heard her hesitant shuffle and felt her hand slip into mine.

  “Goodnight, Senator.” I took a step backwards through the doorway, unwilling to turn my back on this man even for a moment. He was evil.

  His grin never faltered, but his eyes had gone cold the moment he was forced to release his victim. “Goodnight, Lux. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again. Very soon.” His gaze moved to the woman at my side, and I felt fury boil in my veins as his eyes drooped down to half-mast and scanned her trembling body. “Greta. Always a pleasure.”

  I squeezed the maid’s hand and pulled her behind me, practically running for the patio door that would take us out of this house and away from these people. When we reached the side garage, I looked around for Sebastian, but he hadn’t arrived yet.

  “Thank you,” Greta whispered, her eyes filling with tears as she stared at me. “Thank you so much.”

  I took her by the shoulders and stared into her face. She was only a few years older than me — maybe in her mid-twenties — and I suddenly saw how fragile she was. “Listen to me,” I whispered fiercely. “You get in your car and you go. Don’t come back here.”

  “But my job…the money…” Greta bit her lip and her anxious expression tugged on my heartstrings.

  “There are other jobs, Greta,” I said, staring into her eyes. “There’s only one of you. This is your life. You can’t live it here — not under the same roof as that man.”

  Her tears spilled over and she nodded weakly in agreement.

  “Here,” I said, reaching into my small clutch bag and pulling out my tattered wallet. There wasn’t much — just what little grocery money I’d managed to save for next week — but I pulled the bills out anyway. Pressing them into her hand, I knew in this moment, she needed them more than I did. “Take this.”

  “I can’t—” She began to protest, but I stopped her.

  “It’s not much, trust me. I wish I could do more for you.” I used my hand to curl her fingers closed around the wad of money. “Just promise me you’ll get away from him.”

  Greta clung to the money like a lifeline, then wrapped thin arms around me in an unexpected embrace. Her wet, tear-stained cheek brushed mine as she hugged me. “Thank you.”

  “Go,” I ordered, fighting off my own tears as I stepped away and pushed her lightly toward the small, beat-up Honda she’d parked next to the garage. She nodded and hurried for her car.

  When her taillights disappeared down the long driveway, I brushed the dampness from my cheeks and turned away.

  “Good luck,” I whispered into the night.

  Sebastian emerged from the house a few minutes later. He draped my jacket over my shoulders and led me to the car, staring at me with worry in his eyes. Three times during our ride home, he asked why I’d gone so silent. I shrugged off his concern and stared out the passenger window, lost in my thoughts, until he dropped me off at home.

  I couldn’t tell him.

  Not tonight, anyway. This was his father, after all. Plus, it hadn’t escaped my notice that his father was an important political figure. If this got out, it wouldn’t only ruin the senator’s career and reputation, it would set off a media storm that would shatter Sebastian’s family — and, in all likelihood, his future.

  But, at the same time, I couldn’t not tell him.

  His father was the worst kind of man — one who abused his power to exploit the innocent, who used his strength to force others into submission. Bash had a right to know.

  I’d tell him in a few days, I reasoned. I needed time to process and figure out the right way to break it to him. For now, as I remembered the crazed look in Andrew’s eyes when I’d led Greta away from him, all I could think about was the fact that I’d just made a very powerful enemy — one who’d stop at nothing to protect himself.

  And destroy me.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Now

  The boards groaned beneath my sneakers, each step sending up a plume of dust into the stale air of the warehouse. This was, by far, the stupidest thing I’d ever done in my entire life. Did that stop me from attempting this insane quest?

  Of course not.

  After work on Monday, I’d hurried to the lobby bathroom and performed another quick change into sneakers, jeans, and a sweatshirt before boarding the subway to Brooklyn. As I rode to Red Hook, I distracted myself from thoughts of what I was about to attempt by replaying the day I’d had over in my mind.

  I’d arrived at work purposefully late, figuring a tardiness reprimand was better than another early morning elevator ride with Sebastian. Walking in while the daily briefing was already in progress, I avoided any possibility of being cornered alone. I weaved through the group and headed immediately for the Jennys, shamelessly using them as a human shield to protect me from the hazel eyes that roamed the gathered team. Sebastian had stood at the center of the circled workers, discussing the 1950s and 1960s sets he’d be shooting today and doling out responsibilities to the design crew.

  “I’ll be up on the fourteenth floor most of the day, shooting,” he’d informed us.

  Thank god. I smiled as I listened to him hand out assignments, cowardly relieved I wouldn’t have to see him all day.

  “Tech support, you’re with me. Models should already be in hair and makeup upstairs. Costume design, you can head up there immediately to ensure everything’s set up.” Sebastian glanced at his watch. “I want this to go as smoothly as possible. Set design, be on standby to set up the ‘60s set as soon as ‘50s is done. Last week it took too long to roll out the ‘40s set after we finished with ‘30s and we were here late.” Sebastian’s eyes abruptly cut through the crowd straight to me, where I’d ducked partially behind Jenny S.’s petite frame. Apparently, he hadn’t missed my stealth entrance or been fooled by my makeshift hiding spot. He smiled when our eyes met.

  “I don’t want to be here late tonight,” he continued, his eyes locked on mine. “I’ve got plans.”

  Shit.

  His grin widened as he turned his head away, scanning the crowd a final time before he broke up the meeting. “The rest of you, continue working on whatever research or writing projects Angela has assigned for the upcoming shoots. Any questions, ask her — she’s in charge while I’m gone. Let’s have a good day, people.”

  When everyone bega
n to disperse, I made a point to engage the two Jennys in a conversation about their troubled love lives — they always had plenty of weekend horror stories to share — and studiously avoided looking in Sebastian’s direction again until I was sure he’d disappeared upstairs for the photo shoots. My own weekend had been blessedly quiet after his visit Friday night — I’d locked myself away from the world, researching and drafting the beginnings of my story on sex-trafficking, watching old movies, and eating so many Cool Ranch Doritos I was sure the chip company was going to write me a thank you letter for single-handedly helping them meet their third quarter sales quota.

  Work on Monday flew by and as soon as the clock struck five, I was on the elevator, heading down to the lobby with my black backpack in hand. I didn’t know what “plans” Bash had in mind, and I had no intention of sticking around to find out.

  When I finally reached the waterfront, plucking my way across the dilapidated pier as I approached the warehouse, I was having serious doubts about my plans for espionage. Armed only with my total lack of experience, Fae’s borrowed binoculars, and the disposable camera I’d picked up at Swagat yesterday as a backup in case my cellphone ran out of battery, I grew increasingly nervous as the brewery came into sight. I snapped a few pictures from a safe distance, leaning around the corner of an adjacent warehouse to keep my body out of sight from any lookouts — as I’d seen any number of Hollywood-manufactured spies do. Instead of approaching the brewery directly, like I had last week, I slipped down an alleyway on the far side of the abandoned building next door. The adjacent warehouse was a cannery, long fallen into disrepair, and not somewhere I’d normally want to explore. But, unlike the neighboring brewery, this cannery was special.