by Geneva Lee
“I missed you, Grace.”
It’s an overwhelming moment of clarity so I don’t correct her.
“Have you heard from your sister? I think she should stay in school.”
She’s faded back to before and I find myself falling with her. “I haven’t spoken to her in a long time.”
“I hope she’s doing okay. I worry about her.”
“Me too, Nana.” Another little piece of me shatters.
She leans closer and whispers, “And who is this?”
I don’t bother to tell her it’s not necessary. I don’t remind her that Max is deaf. She hasn’t collected a memory since we were nineteen and if she remembers one thing I want it to be this.
“My son.” I ruffle his hair as he works on his next masterpiece. “This is my son.”
Chapter 6
Before
“Worst day ever,” Grace announced as she slung her messenger bag over a chair in their grandmother’s tiny kitchen. “Anything to eat?”
With only a few months left until graduation, her teachers had decided to become masochists. The acceptance letter from the University of Seattle proudly hanging on the fridge should have felt like a ticket out—one with a set departure, but without a clear sense of how she was going to pay for that escape, it didn’t.
Her mirror image peeked out from behind the refrigerator door, frowning. Faith was her identical twin. Mostly. If someone really bothered to look they’d notice that Faith’s hazel eyes had more green than blue to them. But otherwise the biggest differences between the two could only be observed in behavior. Faith was impulsive. Grace planned. Faith fell in love once a week. Grace didn’t have time for boys.
“Well, there’s this.” Faith held up the cordless phone. “Not much else. Maybe I can find the remote in the freezer?”
Neither of them laughed at the joke. Nana’s behavior had been erratic for months. At first it had been nothing to worry about. She couldn’t remember what day of the week it was or she forgot to pick up milk at the store. But in the last few weeks, she hadn’t remembered to pick-up anything at the store.
“She thought I was you this morning,” Grace whispered.
“That’s nothing new.” But Faith didn’t bother trying to convince her further. Nana had always been able to tell them apart. Probably since she’d raised them since they were two. Identical twins were a little much for any woman in her sixties to take on, but she’d done it with ease.
“It is for her.”
Faith slumped into the chair beside her and took her hand. “Hey, let’s look at the bright side. She probably wouldn’t know if we snuck out.”
“Then let’s.” Grace had lost interest in partying soon after initiating Faith. The nights when she wanted to go out Faith had the hook-up, but she never forced Grace to come along. Besides when Faith left, Grace would swipe a bottle from Nana’s liquor cabinet. She didn’t have to share it and she also wouldn’t wind up puking in half the gardens in Ballard on the way home. It was a win-win. Tonight she wanted more than a few hasty sips of booze that she’s already watered down too much to feel that delicious burn. Tonight she wanted to forget.
“Really? I thought you’d sworn it off.” Faith was already out of her seat. “Can I do your make-up?”
“Why not?” Grace shrugged, not able to muster a smile. If it meant getting out of here and away from that letter and her grandmother, she was in. The thought of spending a night watching her future slowly circling the drain was too much to bear. “Where are we going?”
“Leave that to me.” Faith winked. “In a few hours you’re going to be so chill.”
It was a promise, but it sounded more like a threat.
“What are we doing here?” Grace grabbed Faith’s arm and began to shake her. The whole place was the definition of a hellhole. From the blinking fluorescent light in what was meant to pass as a kitchen to the cigarette burns in the carpet. Usually when she joined Faith there was a party. As in people. This place creeped her out. Clearly, she needed to be chaperoning a bit more often.
“Loosen up.” Faith tossed her hair over her shoulder and tugged her shirt down to reveal more cleavage. “I thought you wanted to relax.”
“I do.” Grace hesitated, finally releasing the vise grip she had on her sister’s arm. “I just thought we’d sneak into a bar or something. Isn’t there a party nearby?”
“Derrick can get us into a bar later, but I wanted to stop here first.”
Grace didn’t ask her why. She was more interested in the mysterious Derrick.
“Don’t be scared,” Faith continued in a soothing voice. Then she reached up and plucked out her sister’s ponytail holder. Grace’s hair spilled over her shoulders, instantly making her look more like her twin. “Derrick is going to flip. Let’s make him guess which one is which.”
Derrick’s bulky form filled the doorframe, blocking the hall behind him, as if he’d been summoned by Faith’s words. He was older, that much was obvious, from the slight wrinkles creasing his forehead. But otherwise he dressed like boys from their class in poor-fitting jeans and a sloppy t-shirt. But there was no denying Derrick was gorgeous. Maybe that was why he didn’t try—at all. Not in what he wore or where he lived. Crystal blue eyes peered at the girls, locking them in place. It could have been his muscular body or the scruffy shadow on his jaw. But it was more than all of that. It was the way he moved. It was in how his eyes traveled unapologetically down their bodies. Boys had looked at them like that before, but it hadn’t elicited the same reaction. Derrick could have a girl riding him with her hand gripping his wavy blond hair before she’d found out his name.
Grace moved closer to Faith out of instinct, but her sister merely wrapped and arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against her. “Bet you can’t guess which one of us is which?”
“She looks scared.” Derrick smirked as he motioned to Grace. “But if you want to both try to convince me otherwise, I’m game.”
“Slow down, baby.” Faith wagged her finger. “She’s a virgin, and she’s not for you. I just wanted to prove I had a twin, since you wouldn’t fucking believe me.”
“That’s a shame.” This time there was nothing casual when his eyes raked over Grace. “But I talked your pretty, little ass into bed. If you two are identical, she shouldn’t be much of a challenge.”
Grace stiffened at this revelation, but Faith laughed as she patted her sister’s back. “I hadn’t told her yet, dick. I wanted her to meet you first, so she’d have a visual. Now you ruined it.”
Derrick shrugged and crossed to the kitchen. Faith immediately followed, trailing a few steps behind as he pulled a bottle of Jack from the cabinet. He extended it to her, but she shook her head.
“You know what I want,” she purred. Grace had never seen her like this, so dialed into her sexuality. It was an unabashed show put on for a purpose that made Grace’s stomach churn. She’d fantasized about boys touching her. She had even let Matt from Student Council stick his hand down her panties on the way back from a field trip, but he hadn’t known what to do. How did it come so easily to Faith?
“Then you know what to do.” He unscrewed the cap and took a swig.
“Not right now.” Faith glanced over her shoulder and tipped her head toward her sister.
“Then not right now,” Derrick repeated. He brushed past her, not bothering to leave the bottle behind. Taking a place on a chocolate brown sofa, he patted the seat next to him. Faith scampered over and dropped next to him, accepting a quick gulp of Jack, but his eyes remained on Grace.
She hadn’t moved, still standing awkwardly by the door.
“Come join us.”
But Grace shook her head.
“You can’t stand there all night.” Faith detangled herself from her boyfriend and sat up to stretch her arms out to her sister.
“I think we should head to the bar now,” Grace said weakly.
“Well, sis, we have to convince Derrick to get us in.” Her at
tention immediately returned to the task at hand. She fiddled with the collar of his t-shirt.
“I told you we aren’t going out tonight.” He pushed her away. Leaning forward, he licked his lower lip. “We can party here—the three of us.”
“You know, I think I have a test tomorrow,” Grace said. It was a weak lie that did nothing to vanquish Derrick’s interest in her.
“I’ll help you study,” he offered.
“Oh my God, the two of you deserve each other.” Faith popped onto her feet. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
“Stay out of my meds.” Derrick called after her. He patted the sofa again. “I don’t bite.”
“I doubt that,” Grace grumbled under her breath.
Derrick laughed. “You’re funny. Look, I’m just being polite. I don’t give a shit if you sit down.”
He settled against the arm of the sofa. Grace watched him for a moment, her discomfort beginning to shift into embarrassment. He was older, but that didn’t mean anything. She and Faith would be eighteen in two weeks. Technically, at seventeen, they were already legally considered adults. It just hadn’t occurred to Grace that there were romantic options outside of her senior class. She took a seat on the far end of the sofa, leaving a cushion between them.
“You want some?” He held out the bottle of Jack.
She took a deep breath and nodded. They had gone out to party. A free drink here meant not having to let some sleazy guy sweat all over her at the bar later. But he didn’t reach out further. Instead he scooted next to her. His eyes drank her in as she took a swig. When she handed it back, he didn’t move away.
“Your slut of a sister is probably already in my Vicodin.” An unexpected harshness coated his words, and Grace shrank away. “She can’t help herself. She has to have it. What about you? Do you need it as much as your sister?”
“Screw you.” Grace slammed her palms into his chest, pushing him back as she jumped to her feet. Derrick was faster. His leg shooting out to trip her. Crumbling to the floor at his feet, he had a hold of her, towering above, before she could regain control of herself.
His acrid scent burned her nostrils. Derrick grabbed her hair and yanked. Grace scrambled closer, winding up on her knees before he could rip her hair from its roots. The rough pad of his thumb smeared across her lower lip, then he forced her mouth open.
“If you can't shut your whore mouth, I’ll have to find a way to keep you from talking.”
Whatever self-preservation had sent her to her knees shifted and she struggled in his grasp, raking her nails over any skin she could catch. Arms. Hands. How she wished she could reach higher and dig them into his handsome face. He needed to be marked as a monster. It was too late to warn her or Faith.
It might not be too late for someone else.
“What the hell are you doing?” Faith dropped the beer can she was holding and raced toward them. Pushing him away, her eyes flashed to Grace’s, full of warning. It was the same look she’d shot her as a child when Nana was in one of her moods.
She would handle this. She was the big sister, even if only by five minutes. It was her job.
Derrick staggered back a half step in the time it took for her to send that warning glance. Regaining his footing, he pointed down at Grace. “Your bitch of a sister needs a lesson in keeping quiet.”
“She’s a kid,” Faith shot back, crossing her arms so tightly that she was almost hugging herself. It was a small hint of weakness, but it was enough.
“You’re a fucking kid, too.” Derrick’s hand lashed out, cracking across her cheekbone. When she stumbled, he grabbed her arm and dragged her closer.
“That’s right.” Faith sneered at him, and Grace shrank against the carpet horrified that she’d dared to confront him. “I’m your baby doll, remember? That’s the agreement.”
Bile rose in Grace’s throat, and she barely managed to choke it down. It burned like the alcohol that had tempted her here.
“Then let's play.” In a split second, he slammed Faith into the wall. Wrenching her around, he shoved her skirt up around her waist and ripped off her panties. “I think she gets her mouthiness from you, and I think she needs to learn what happens to pretty little girls who can’t keep quiet.”
“Derrick!" Her voice was alarmed, but she made no effort to get away. “Don’t! Not right now.”
Not right now. What the fuck? Grace pushed to her hands and started to get up but Derrick was quick to notice.
“Do not fucking move or you’ll be telling your Grandma to come down to the hospital! You both need to be taught a lesson,” he hissed. His hand stayed pressed between Faith’s shoulder blades.
“No!"
She wasn’t sure which one of them screamed out but it didn’t matter. Grace was on her feet now.
“I told you not to fucking move!” He threw Faith to the ground but before she could reach her, he had Grace by the throat. “You want to pay for your own sins?”
Tears smarted her eyes. She couldn’t nod or say yes with his fingers cutting off her oxygen but she stopped struggling and that was enough. He loosened his grip on her but didn’t let go.
Faith didn’t move from the spot on the floor. She laid there in a heap of bones and that’s when Grace realized she was already high. The tears fell down her cheeks as her sister’s vacant gaze locked on hers. Grace felt the twist and snap of elastic around her hip bone but it was as distant as Faith’s eyes. Derrick hocked a wad of spit into his hand and smeared it down below.
She looked up and opened the flood inside her.
“Please no,” Grace whimpered, and it wasn’t her speaking but it was her voice. It was her tears and her cheeks. “Not like this.”
“Keep quiet,” he hissed, “or I’ll fuck her, too.”
“No.” Faith had no idea what was going on. Maybe she’d been sleeping with him, but Grace couldn’t just let him rape her. Instead she shook her head. “Fuck me, Derrick.”
Then he thrust violently. Grace floated up, away from herself, and watched as her own body arched back, her own hands clawing at the wall. She gasped for air as he smashed her cheek against the dry wall and pinned her there. Pain twisted across her face, recalling her to the moment. She was the one he was fucking. It was her body splitting at the core as he tore her apart. She looked to the ground and Faith’s eyes held her attention. They were so like her eyes, but they were watching as Grace jerked and trembled. Faith gazed past her, her eyes as vacant as Grace felt. This was what her sister meant by being his play thing. In his hands she was nothing more than a doll, Grace realized as she collapsed like a discarded rag when he’d finished.
After he left, Grace crawled to Faith and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. They stayed like that—not speaking, not moving—until he reappeared and tossed a small baggie at their feet.
“Don’t bring her back here,” he ordered as he disappeared into the kitchen.
Faith hadn’t moved until that bag fell at her feet. That night she gave Grace a line of coke to help her forget something Faith couldn’t remember—and Grace could never forgive.
Chapter 7
Monday night at the bistro is more successful than Amie’s date. We’re still plating our final orders when she appears in a dress meant for a night out. She’s already slipped out of her heels.
“Calling it early?” I ask, passing off a dish to one of the servers.
“This”—she gesticulates wildly to her own body—“is wasted on him. Wasted.”
“I think you look hot,” I tell her, then I call into the kitchen, “Doesn’t chef look smoking?”
A choir of catcalls responds but she scrunches up her nose. “Want me to take over?”
“Not in that.” I shoo her away with a towel. “Go home, change, relieve the babysitter, and eat some cheesecake.”
I don’t feel bad sending her back to our place because Max has been passed out for at least an hour.
“You’ve had a long day.”
“Then save m
e some cheesecake,” I tease her.
She holds up a finger. “I am not a saint, but for you, I’ll try.”
An hour later I’ve packed up a few more pieces of leftover cheesecake. I can’t count on her not to have eaten it all by the time I reach home. One of the perks of the restaurant business is a steady dessert stream. Once I’m home I’m slipping into pajamas and vegging on the couch. I’m fantasizing about this night in when I spot him on the sidewalk: Jude walking straight toward The Crow’s Nest, one of Port Townsend’s seamier bars. I guess I’m right about him after all. I should continue on my way, but I can’t.
Even as I jerk the wheel and skid into an empty parking space, I don’t understand how I feel. Dull anger aches in my chest. It’s foreign, but not unfamiliar.
Betrayal.
Have I really forgotten how it feels to be betrayed? Or had I pushed the emotion so deeply inside me that it couldn’t reach me?
But Jude brought it to the surface. Seeing him here confirms every reservation I had about him. I’d known he was bad news since the moment we met and I hadn’t stayed away. How could I when our paths kept crossing? But maybe that wasn’t an accident. Maybe he was even worse than I originally suspected.
Addicts are predators. They sense the weak and wounded in the pack and pounce. In nature, it does the herd a service, removing the ones slowing the rest down and the inherent threat they pose. Maybe it’s the same with people. We’re all subject to the laws of evolution. But with men like that, men who hunt, it isn’t a quick death. It’s slow. They murder you bit by bit, stripping away each piece until all you have left is the air you breathe. It’s not a life to live in fear or pain.
So why the hell am I getting out of the car?
Someone is screaming in my head to turn around. Because I wanted to believe in him and I am pissed that I can’t. Instead I walk through the cloud of cigarette smoke by the door, ignoring the attentions of the men puffing away in the cold. I stride inside, laser-focused on my target. His back is to me as he scopes out the bar. I haven’t thought of what to say to him. I have no claim on this man and I definitely have no sane reason to be chasing him into a bar. Somehow I still find myself moving toward him. Hateful thoughts tumble in my head as I try to decide on my opening line.