by Meg Jackson
He couldn’t bear to rehearse what he would say to her. He could be nice about it. Except, he knew, he couldn’t. If he tried to be nice, tried to be civil, he would only wind up taking her in his arms and carrying her to her bedroom and giving her what they both needed. He would have to be mean. Cruel, even.
He closed his eyes and thought of Shep. Thought of threats and murderous intent. Thought of his people, his home, his brothers, Mina. He thought of everything he needed to raise anger in his heart, the sort of aimless anger that will latch onto the first thing it sees and take it between its teeth, snapping its neck back and forth until the thing is dead and bleeding and broken.
He didn’t let himself think that Ricky’s heart was going to be that thing. And, by proxy, his own.
“Hey handsome,” she said, eyes droopy, as she opened the door. She was wearing a t-shirt and underwear and nothing else. Cristov’s blood pulsed in his veins as he took in the sight of her; from the slight sway of her hips and the rosy hue of her cheeks, he knew she’d woken up and made herself one of her signature hangover remedies. What else was new? He pushed any sense of desire or affection from his mind, not an easy task when she was clothed as she was, or smiling at him like she was, or just being who she was.
He pushed past her into the apartment and she let the door shut behind him with a click.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder, having to reach up to do so. He shook her off and closed his eyes as she padded around him to stand in front of the sofa, her eyes searching him as though she could read his aura and discover what was ailing him.
“Talk to me, baby,” she said. When he opened his eyes again, she was leaning down to pick up the half-full glass that sat on the coffee table. Orange juice and beer. The thought of it made him sick. If she knew what he’d been through, she would put it down and…and...
“Want a drink? Tell me what’s up.” She didn’t know. About Shep or the Steel Dragons or anything. And he wouldn’t tell her. Because if he told her, she’d be able to stop him from doing what he had to do. Instead, he aimed as low as he could, and swung with all his might.
“Are you fucking drunk, Ricky?” Cristov snarled, the ember in his chest wracking his heart.
“What? What does that matter? It’s like…”
“Of course you are, then,” he said. “When are you ever fucking sober, anyway? Why did I even ask when I knew the answer?”
“What the hell has gotten into you?” Ricky said, anger pushing its way into her eyes, slowly but steadily. “Last night…”
“This is fucked, Ricky, it’s all fucked,” Cristov said, crushing his hands into fists. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this shit anymore. Not with you.”
“What?” Ricky said, her mouth going slack. “What do you mean? What’s wrong? Is this because of your sister or whatever? Like, I’m fuckin’ sorry I’m not trying to move into a damn trailer park full of strangers for a two-month relationship.”
“I wouldn’t want you to,” Cristov said, willing himself to believe his own words. “You’re a drunk. You’re a mess. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Cristov…”
“You never took me seriously, did you? You never take anything seriously. Life’s one big fuckin’ playtime for you, isn’t it? Whole world’s just a big old sandbox for you to piss in.”
“What are you…Jesus, Cristov, I…”
Her eyes were battling between anger and sadness, each of his words making her flinch. Deep in his stomach, Cristov could feel something like milk curdling, a sweet sickness over what he was saying, the way he was saying it. He didn’t have to be so mean, did he? But he wanted to be. Because of Shep. Because he couldn’t find a way to hurt himself more than by hurting her.
“Save it for someone who cares, Ricky,” Cristov said, turning. He couldn’t watch her anymore or he’d weaken and fall and take it all back. “I don’t think anyone will ever care the way I did, and I was a damn fool for it.”
Her hand on his arm surprised him. She’d crossed the room with surprising speed considering the sway in her step. His bicep tensed before he shook her off.
“What did I do?” she moaned. “Last night, I thought…I thought I gave you what you wanted. I’m sorry I can’t…I can’t fall that far so fast. But I tried…I’m…I’m trying. I thought it was enough? Last night, it was enough…what happened?”
“It’s just not…it’s not what I want, and it’s not what you need,” Cristov said, his tone falling, his energy spent. If he turned to her then, he would apologize, take her in his arms and beg her forgiveness. And then he’d be no better off than he was that morning, standing over his dead dog and knowing he’d put everyone in danger to follow his own selfish heart.
“Fuck you,” she said, her tone suddenly cold and flat. “Fuck you, and fuck your family, and fuck…fuck everything! You’re a miserable bastard, Cristov.”
“I know,” he said, and let himself out.
25
Lunch with Mom – 2:30, Carson's.
The calendar reminder on her phone beeped, and Ricky groaned before even seeing the automated message she'd left herself. She didn't even really need the reminder; her monthly lunches with Mama James got seared into her memory every time they set a date and time. It was, without a doubt, the lowest point of her month, every month. Occasionally, she managed to duck out with the excuse of work. But now that Kim was mayor, and still never missed a date, she had no excuse but to go.
In a way, Ricky had always had an easier time than her sister when it came to their mother's harsh and unforgiving scrutiny. She, at least, was blessed with the sort of metabolism that kept her svelte no matter how much she ate, and Cordelia James was obsessed with weight. Kim, whose frame was destined to host sensual curves, received the brunt of their mother's judgmental eye. But neither sister was spared from the idea of “success” that took up the smaller majority of Cordelia's mind.
Ricky was even less enthused about the luncheon than usual; the way her morning had gone, the very last thing she needed was an extra dose of criticism from dear old Mom. That morning, during the weekly staff meeting at the paper, Ricky had failed – not for the first time in recent weeks – to deliver any compelling ideas for stories. While Rich and Parker and Erick all dug up something other than Kingdom’s run-of-the-mill gossip and small-town squabbles, Ricky came up empty handed when it was her turn to pitch a story.
“It’s been quiet around town,” she said in her own defense as Ron sent her a withering look. Parker clicked his tongue, looking down at his scribbled notes, and Erick was clearly fighting back a smile.
“That didn’t stop the rest of us,” Rich sneered and Ricky snarled back at him.
“Kiss my ass,” she spat, her temper shorter than usual. Rich feigned hurt and held his hands over his heart.
“Only in my dreams, buttercup,” he said with a wink. Ricky had no patience for his sexist bullshit. She was, as was becoming usual, pretty hungover. Hungover enough to have missed her weekly meeting with Ed Kerry, with whom she had a standing breakfast date on Monday mornings to gossip. That was part of the reason she hadn’t come prepared with a lead; the other half of her reasoning had to do with post-breakup malaise.
“Listen, I’ll do a story on that, uh, thing in Hamilton Falls,” she said. “You know, that ice rink or whatever.”
“Erick did a story on that two weeks ago,” Ron said, frowning.
“What about a feature on the opt-out movement for standardized testing?” Ricky offered, plumbing the deaths of her pounding head for newsworthy content. That had been a topic discussed at length the previous spring in the big papers. Ron sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“If you can get some local parents to give statements,” he said. “Go to the PTA meeting or whatever. But it’s kind of old news by now, isn’t it?”
“Old news is only old when no one’s reporting it,” Ricky said, happy to at least dig herself
out of the hole, even if she wasn’t out of the doghouse.
“Make it good and I’ll run it,” Ron said before handing out some of the week’s minor assignments and dismissing the other lead reporters, asking Ricky to stay behind.
“Ricky, you’re slipping,” he said, point-blank. Ricky bit her lip to hold back a snappy retort. She knew when her sharp tongue was a boon and when it would just get her into trouble. “And I sure as hell hate seeing it. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she said, ignoring the pounding in her head and hoping her make-up adequately covered the bags under her eyes. “Just some personal stuff. I know – I can’t let that get in the way. I won’t, anymore, I promise.”
Ron studied her for a long moment, as though trying to read her mind. She kept her personal life out of the office, and for good reason. If any of the guys she worked with picked up on the fact that she was faltering because of a bad case of the broken heart blues, they’d never let her forget it.
“Make good on that promise, Rick,” Ron finally said. “I know that it can be tough keeping up with the boys after work…”
Ricky flinched and bit her lip harder.
“…but just because you’re young and eager doesn’t mean you have to run yourself into the ground trying to show them you can hang.”
Ron had it all wrong. So, so, so wrong. But Ricky didn’t tell him that.
“Got it, boss,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound forced.
“Between you and me,” Ron said, leaning forward across his desk, “you can write circles around any of them, and you’ve got a much better nose for news, too. That piece on the murder sold more papers than I’d seen in three years. I’m not gonna be editor-in-chief forever, and if you get back on your feet, which I know you can, you might be behind this desk bossing their asses around.”
Ricky felt crushed instead of uplifted by those words. When he sent her off to start working on her piece, she wondered if she’d really let herself go that much. And what it would take to get her back to her old self.
I’ll get over him soon enough, she told herself, always happy to ignore the truth as long as she could. And then I’ll be over this slump.
At 1:45, like clockwork, Ricky’s phone buzzed. Kim was waiting outside to pick her up. Gathering her purse and waving a quick goodbye to the team, Ricky climbed into her sister’s car and readied herself for the drive to Carson’s, which was just about halfway between Kingdom and Dover, where Cordelia James lived. After their father’s death, Cordelia had moved to the city, beaming like a madwoman to leave the “goddamn sticks” behind. Neither Ricky nor Kim bothered to remind her that she was also leaving her daughters behind.
Kim and Ricky spent the ride discussing, as they often did on the way to their monthly lunch, whatever new gripes their mother had sprung on them since their last meeting. It was the only way they could stop themselves from blowing up during the actual meeting. They had forty-five minutes to rant, rave, and air out all their grievances before having to plaster on fake smiles and pretend to take their mother’s half-assed advice to heart.
“Listen,” Kim said as she pulled into Carson’s parking lot and turned to her sister. Kim, who was always cold even if the heater was going full blast, was fully bundled up in a hat, scarf, gloves, and a winter jacket. It was 50 degrees outside. “I’m gonna be making an announcement today, to you and Mom. And Mom is….she’s not gonna be happy about it. So I need to know you’re gonna be on my side.”
Ricky’s eyebrows rose. An announcement? Possibilities flashed through Ricky’s head like the stock exchange ticker scrolling over Wall Street. Pregnancy. Marriage. Moving.
“Of course, sis,” she said, her mind settling on the most likely suspect. She glanced at Kim’s gloved hand, still gripping the steering wheel. Was there a bump under that fabric? She couldn’t tell. “I’ll always have your back, you know that.”
Ricky wasn’t lying. There were times when Ricky really felt like it was her and Kim against Cordelia. She trusted Kim to do the same for her when their mother decided to turn her criticism on Ricky. But, now that she had a good idea of what that announcement was, she felt a selfish sort of unease about it. She and Cristov would be in-laws. She’d have to see him. Often.
But that wasn’t even it, was it?
You’re jealous, she thought, trying to keep her thoughts out of her eyes as Kim and Ricky looked at each other. You’re jealous because Kim’s found happiness and love, and all you’ve got is heartbreak.
She gulped hard and offered her sister the best fake smile she could muster.
“Whatever it is, Kim,” she said, “you got me.”
Kim smiled back, her cheeks rosy and high as she turned off the engine and opened the door.
26
Carson’s was much nicer than any of the restaurants in Kingdom, and boasted real linen on the tables. Cordelia was sitting in the back of the mostly-empty restaurant, which had its biggest crowd at dinner, and waved the girls over when she saw them. Ricky tried to snag a peak at Kim’s hand, but her sister was quick to hide it from prying eyes.
“Hey Mom,” Kim said as they approached the table, leaning over to plant a kiss on the old woman’s cheek. Ricky followed suit, perfunctorily claiming how nice it was to see her. There were menus already on the table, and as the girls sat down a soft-footed waiter appeared and asked for their drink order.
“Iced tea would be great,” Kim said cheerily.
“I’d love a Manhattan, if you can swing it,” Ricky said. The waiter nodded and dashed away.
“It’s 2:30 in the afternoon, Ericka,” Cordelia said, eyebrows nearly blending into her hairline. Ricky cringed at the use of her real name.
“I don’t have to be back at work after this,” Ricky said.
“That’s not what I meant,” Cordelia said and turned to Kim. “Don’t you think it’s ludicrous, having a drink in the afternoon?”
Kim braved a glance at Ricky, her mouth open as her mind formed a response. Ricky begged her sister to take her side, but saw the hesitation in Kim’s eyes.
I’ve got your back, she thought, her mood darkening further, don’t you have mine?
“I think Ricky’s just planning to celebrate a little. I told her I have an announcement and I think she guessed…”
“Celebrating or not, it’s too early for a young girl to be drinking. And a cocktail, too! A glass of white wine, perhaps, but whiskey before the sun’s gone down? A woman shouldn’t be drinking whiskey at all. Ricky, do you drink often? You look just terrible.”
“Mom, Kim is trying to say something,” Ricky said through gritted teeth. The waiter swept by, putting their drinks on the table before bustling away.
“I don’t care what Kimberly is trying to say,” Cordelia said, her voice rising in pitch. “I want to talk about why you look like roadkill. Is it because of your job, Ricky? I know you can’t be happy working for that rinky-dink paper, but that’s no reason to start a habit.”
“I love my job, Mom,” Ricky spat back, grabbing her drink and taking a huge swallow out of spite.
“Well, I can’t see how. It must be boring. Are you drinking because you’re bored?”
“Mom…”
“What you need, Ricky, is a man. You need someone to take care of you. You can’t be making enough money, and you’ve never been very good at taking care of yourself. You know that as well as I do. At least Kim has this new job, even if it’s not much.”
“I’m the mayor, Mom,” Kim interrupted, anger flashing in her eyes.
“I’m talking to your sister, Kimberly,” Cordelia spat before turning back to Ricky. “Now, Ricky, we both know it’s true. You’re a very disorganized person. Your schoolbooks were always a mess. And your hair! You never made any attempt to look nice, like your sister. You’re a slob, with your money and your looks and your whole life. And now you’re a drunk slob. That’s not the way I want any daughter of mine to be.”
“Mom, I’m doing just fine by myself
,” Ricky said, putting her drink down and trying to out-stare her mother. “I know you don’t understand, but my job is great and I do just fine taking care of myself. Just because you’re too uptight to have a drink now and then…”
“If you’d seen the way your father drank, you wouldn’t be saying that,” Cordelia snapped back and Ricky blanched, flinching away as though Cordelia had slapped her. “Why, if it wasn’t for me, your father would have been sleeping in the gutter outside that sleazy bar on Main Street every night. I won’t sit back and watch my daughter follow that same path. Your father was a slob, and you got those genes of his. You need a husband to keep you in line, that’s what you need. You’ll never be able to manage yourself, Ricky. It’s that simple.”
Ricky couldn’t remember her father ever being drunk, and rage rose as quick and acidic as bile in her stomach. She clenched her jaw together, sure that if she opened her mouth, the curses that would emerge would get them kicked out of the restaurant. She was saved by the timely re-appearance of the waiter, who took their orders with a perfunctory nod before disappearing and leaving the three women in their own personal hells.
“Listen,” Kim said, quick to draw the conversation away from its disastrous path. “I have good news, and I want you both to be happy when I tell you.”
“I’ve never been happy with anything you girls have told me,” Cordelia said with a resigned sigh, giving Ricky’s drink one more dour glance before looking away. “But you can go ahead and try.”
Ricky could have leapt across the table and pulled her mother’s ponytail until she was bald. Just like the woman herself, Cordelia kept her hair up so tight it made her skin look like it was stretched to the point of cracking. She dragged her gaze to Kim, whose pained expression softened the anger in Ricky’s gut. She could keep it together for Kim’s sake.
With a forced smile, Kim brought her hand, which she’d kept under the table, to the white tablecloth. On her ring finger was a gorgeous ring, a simple gold band with a bright, impeccably-cut diamond in the center. Ricky forgot everything for one glorious moment; she’d guessed that this was her sister’s announcement, but seeing the ring and the smile on Kim’s face had cemented it and she forgot all about Cordelia’s words in the rush of happiness.