by Brogan Riley
Rhue, stop it. You’re not a teenage girl anymore.
Our first customer, an old man, walks into the bar. Ethan sits down in the chair and starts playing the guitar. Caroline steps into the bar and I start serving the customers. Emily starts to float around the bar top. She’s polishing the shot glasses for a few minutes and then is dusting the liquor cabinet for a while. Her youth and energy are mesmerizing as are her dance-like movements.
I fucking want to get drunk.
My hand travels to the back pocket in my jeans. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as a cold sweat pricks my forehead. I pour a glass of beer for the old man and walk over to the bathroom. I stagger into it and close the green door behind me. I lean against the white cracked wall. My heart pounds in my chest.
I shove my hand into my pocket and take a white envelope out.
He’s found me.
It’s not a surprise to me. He’s got money. He can afford a very expensive private investigator.
With my trembling fingers, I open the envelope and spread the letter open. It rustled through my letterbox in the morning but I had no courage to open it until now. I huff out and start reading it.
Dear Rhue,
I’m sorry to inform you that Samantha passed away ten days ago.
I’ve set up a bank account for you and have paid five hundred thousand dollars into it. Take it and stay where you are. Please, Rhue, you never belonged in Sunny Spells.
Regards,
Dixon Frederick Roache.
I draw in a shaky breath.
My mother-in-law Samantha is dead. My weak father-in-law Dixon wants to marry his long-term mistress Crystal, I’m sure as fuck.
He wants to get rid of me so that I won’t spoil the white façade of his new family.
I’m a black slut and my kids are black bastards to him, after all. His future wife has always despised me.
I huff out again.
I’m free.
Tears start streaming down my cheeks and a low yelp of happiness leaves my mouth. My emotions tumble in my chest, bubble up, and pour out in a jet of hysterical sobbing. The door of the bathroom bangs open.
“Rhue?”
I raise my eyes and drown in the fire of Ethan’s gaze. The letter falls to the black tiled floor with a rustle.
Ethan leans toward me. “Are you okay, sweetness?” He sounds genuinely concerned.
I nod. “More than okay.”
His eyebrows rise. “Really? You’re crying, Rhue.”
I don’t know what has come over me but I raise my arms and throw them around his neck.
“That ossified caricature is dead,” I gasp into his neck.
“Who?”
His manly smell causes my knees to shake, and my stomach flutters. “My mother-in-law. She’s dead. She can’t hurt me anymore.”
I have a future.
I’m safe.
I’m sheltered in the safety of Ethan’s muscular arms.
What am I doing?
Tyce
She clings to me for a second or two, pressing those delicious tits of hers against my chest, and pulls away from me like I’m poisonous.
I clear my throat. “Talk to me, Rhue. As far as I know I can listen to people.”
Mae’s words.
Weird, but I don’t think about my ex anymore. She’s a blurry memory, a drop of warmth in my heart. She’s only a friend to me.
Rhue?
She’s my every dream.
We walk out into the bar. I settle myself onto a bar stool and Rhue stands behind the bar top. She pours me a glass of beer. The excess froth floods the bar top but I don’t pay attention.
“I married a white collar,” she starts. “He was an alcohol addict.”
I sip my beer as words of pain and sadness come out of her beautiful mouth. I focus on every sentence. I want to get to know her better.
“Charlie never hit me when he was sober,” she says in a bitter voice, “but after four bottles of beer he turned into an aggressive stranger.” She sighs. “I didn’t notice in the beginning. I thought he was just a naughty student. But one day I realized he was an alcoholic.” She shudders, lost in thought, and then takes a deep breath. “I know his mother had hit him and had locked him away in a dark shed for punishment his whole childhood. I know she had called him horrible names. I’d asked him that he go to therapy so many times.” She averts her eyes and bathes in her thoughts for a moment. “He wasn’t a monster all the time. Most of the time, he was though.”
“It’s never black or white when it comes to such people, Rhue.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s mostly grey. Charlie was a victim as much as he was an abuser.” She takes a convulsive breath.
“It’s all in the past now.”
“I know, but…” Her voice breaks. “It’s just that now I want to go back in time.” Tears stream down her cheeks.
I cover her hand with mine, her skin so flawless, so soft to the touch.
I want to help her and fuck me do I want to carry her in my arms until the end of my days. “You should look forward not back. Don’t count your mistakes. Good things await you in the future, I’m sure as fuck.”
“Yeah. My kids will grow up soon and I’ll buy myself a bunch of cats. That’s the perfect future for such an old wrecked woman as me.”
I want to tell her she’s beautiful.
I want to tell her she has a future with a nice guy.
I want to tell her she has a future with me.
My voice halts.
A customer demands her attention so I return to my seat on the stage.
Chapter 5
Rhue
Ethan has been a great helper for the last two weeks.
He helped me with moving house while my kids enjoyed the trip to an aqua park and then the sleepover at Brian’s ramshackle cabin. The old man is very patient with kids and tells really good horror stories. With his grandchildren, there were nine kids in total. A small army of little monsters, but Brian is a very good general.
Ethan helped me with finding a good school for Diana and choosing a trusted private tutor for the rest of my kids. They’ll be home-schooled until they’re big enough to commute to school like their big sister. Ethan also helped me deal with two social workers. They were very nosey and suspicious when I talked with them at their office, but Ethan has a gift. He can make people believe him and trust him. The woman swooned over his passionate words as the man patted his shoulder. Not to mention that he can use his scars to his advantage.
So, here I am, standing at the beginning of a new life path.
Ethan is my friend.
I wish he were my husband.
Emily is my friend.
I wish she were a man. Or an old grumpy woman.
I sigh and focus on preparing a perfect Green Anastasia for Caroline.
“Add more vodka, sweetie,” Caroline says as she sways to the rhythm of the romantic song coming from Ethan’s guitar.
“Sure.”
“The guesthouse is okay?”
“It’s beautiful. How much—“
“I told you, sweetie, come over and read a book to me, that’s all.”
I nod. “I will.”
A very large garden separates my house from hers. With all the terraces and outgrown vegetation, it’s a maze of secrets that my younger kids are eager to explore. Caroline has no children of her own and she’s a bit eccentric, but my sweet little monsters like her.
Ethan puts the guitar aside, rises to his feet, and walks over to the bar top. “Hey, sweetness.”
“Hey,” I rasp and then a yawn leaves my mouth. Embarrassment rolls over me. “Sorry.”
Caroline grabs her glass, rolls her eyes, and returns to her table. She starts chatting to Moira.
Ethan puts his elbows onto the bar top. “You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just kids, you know. A case of bad cold this time, but Sally is with them now.”
“I could look after your kids too.”
His eyes flicker with anger. “Rhue, I can help you out.”
I suck in a breath at the firm tone of his voice. His frame exudes such an air of dominance that I feel fragile. I submit to him. “Alright, I have a doctor’s appointment in two weeks,” I shriek. “Come over at four and meet my sweet little monsters.”
He nods and leans toward me. “Go home if you’re tired. I can replace you behind the bar.”
“Who will entertain our lovely customers then?”
“Emily is a former ballerina. She can perform for them.”
No fucking way. A ballerina? Ethan might fall in love with her performance.
“There’s only two hours left,” I say. “I’m sure my kids are fast asleep.” Another traitorous yawn escapes my mouth.
“Go have a good rest, Rhue.”
So I go.
Tyce
Two weeks later.
I knock on the door, but nobody opens it for me. I knock louder. Nothing. I pull the door handle and the door creaks open. I sneak inside, bouncing off a short figure. I look down. A boy stares up at me. I’d say he’s nine years old. He and Rhue are very much alike except that his skin is lighter and he has a light brown afro.
“Caspar?” I ask.
“Uhm.”
I extend my arm toward him and we shake hands. “Ethan.” My eyes flick over the vinyl floor. It’s stained with raspberry jam.
Alright. I didn’t expect Rhue’s place to be a sterile hospital. She has kids. She’s tired.
I walk into the living room and freeze. There’re clothes scattered all over the floor; plates pile on the coffee table, and hieroglyphs in all shades of pink mark the walls. Breadcrumbs cover the couch and sweet wrappers adorn the armchairs.
Oh. Fuck.
Rhue is a queen of mess. She needs my help urgently.
“Don’t swear,” a thin voice says.
I look down as a pair of brown eyes flickers with cheekiness. The little shit looks four years old and brown tendrils of hair fall to her shoulders. She must be Colleen then.
“I didn’t,” I say.
“You did.” she giggles, raising her little fists, and tapping her little feet like a small penguin.
“And you can sneak in like a ghost,” I say.
She giggles again. “I’m Colleen.”
“I know. I can read your mind.” I wink at her.
She hugs herself and starts shaking from laughter.
Rhue floats into the living room as her long hippie skirt rustles. She smiles at me. Somehow, time stops and I feel like lightning has coursed through me. She looks stunning. The lavender top she’s wearing gives the dark tone of her skin an unearthly glow. And her huge tits? Fuck, I want to squeeze them, lick them, and bite down on her nipples for eternity.
“Thank you so very much,” Rhue says, correcting her earring. “The appointment shouldn’t be long. Twenty minutes, maybe thirty.”
“No rush,” I say.
Rhue’s oldest daughter walks into the room, her honey-brown eyes like two assessing blades. I know her name is Diana and she’s almost thirteen. A thought hits me hard. She looks like an ebony sculpture and is different to Caspar and Colleen. Another girl tumbles into the room. She must be Jaclyn who’s six. She looks like her brother and younger sister. Yes, Diana is definitely not like her siblings.
All the kids stare up at me.
“I’m not very busy anyway,” I say.
Rhue nods. “They’ve had dinner, so they’re full. You just tell them to watch TV and be reasonably quiet.”
“I can manage, don’t worry.” I flash her a wide grin.
Her eyes gleam. “You’re great, Ethan.”
“Thanks.” I put my hand on the back of my neck. I clear my throat. “That lavender color looks good on you.”
Fuck. I should have bitten my tongue. The kids may think that I want to steal their mom from them. I don’t want to.
Fuck. What I want to do is… fucked up.
I want to move into this mess and stay with them for eternity. In fact, the drapes and waves of oriental fabric divert my attention from the chaos. Rhue is an artist. She has a wild soul. Her curtains are stunning; her cushions are a work of art, her soul doesn’t bend. I like her rebellious nature.
“Thank you,” Rhue says, putting her palm on her own cheek.
My glance meets Diana’s. The girl narrows her eyes and tilts her head, watching me like a tiny predator.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She knows I’m interested in Rhue. I know she knows.
“See you later,” Rhue says and walks off.
The smell of her perfume circles me as I remove my leather jacket and Diana takes it from my hand. I walk over to the kitchen. My hands collapse at the sight of the kitchen sink. It’s full of dirty plates and pans.
“Caspar?” I call out to the boy.
He appears by my side as silent as a specter.
“Can you do the dishes?” I ask.
“He can’t,” Diana says. “He’s never done it before.”
“I’ll teach him,” I say. “It’s easy.”
Caspar scratches his head. “Mom never asks us that we do the dishes.”
“Why?” I explode.
“She’s our mom,” Jaclyn says and bobs her head at me. “She has to clean the house. That’s what moms do.” She flashes me a cheeky smile, putting her hands on her hips.
I get it. This household is the same as Cole and mine was. My brother felt guilty and did everything for me. He was tired as fuck and I was useless as fuck. One day he was so tired he collapsed. I thought he had a heart attack and I woke up from my stupor on that rainy day.
My parents died in a car crash. I don’t remember them. When I was a kid, I cried each time I saw other kids playing with their parents in the playground. Cole thought he wasn’t looking after me properly. He felt guilty. He tried harder and harder until he was so exhausted he couldn’t move. When he collapsed, I decided to become a tough little bastard. I stopped crying like a pussy on that day.
My brother was and is everything to me. He’s my first horror story before falling asleep, my first football match, my bruised knees and twisted ankles. My first beer. My first hangover. A plate stuffed with burned lasagna. An encouraging grip on my shoulder. A worried expression.
It’s always been him and me.
It’s just that I need space now.
I need to save Rhue. Yeah, that’s my main goal in life.
She feels guilty and does everything for her kids. There are four of them and they’re messy little monsters who think moms are born to be silent servants. Rhue is only one. She’s drowning.
“Caspar,” I start, “you’re responsible for doing the dishes. Diana, you’re gonna clean up the living room. Jaclyn and Colleen, you’re gonna wipe away the jam from the floor in the hall.”
Surprisingly, they don’t protest. Their eyes are wide and their jaws drop open but then they nod at me. They start moving like a bunch of ants. I’d say they’re excited.
Chapter 6
Rhue
The doctor washes her hands, dries them with a piece of paper towel, and presses one of the dispensers hanging above the washbasin. She rubs the hand sanitizer on her palms and sits down at the desk. “You need more tests,” she says in a matter-of-fact-tone.
I nod, clenching my hands in my lap. I take a deep breath as my heart flutters. “Do you think…?”
She smartens up her green blouse that matches her eye color perfectly and starts typing in. “I don’t know yet. I need the result of a biopsy to tell you more.”
“When?”
“I’ll book you in for an appointment on Friday morning.”
“Okay.”
I can ask Sally or Brian to look after my kids. Or Ethan if he’s not busy.
I clench my hands in front of my stomach that feels like a sour, dry apple. “But does it look serious to you?”
She turns in her chair to face me. “It doesn’t look
suspicious but the ultrasound is not enough to know for sure whether it’s malignant or benign. We just want to make sure everything’s fine.” She tilts her head and flashes me a friendly smile.
Relief washes over my heart.
If she suspected cancer she’d sound more concerned.
I rise to my feet, say goodbye, and leave her office.
I decide to step into Mr. Auborgio’s garden and say hello. He’s very happy to see me and then asks me a lot of questions about Sally. Fuck me. The old git is secretly in love with my employer. I feed his curiosity and then have a short walk along the pavement that leads to the town centre. I stop by a little shop with cosmetics. My eyes sweep over the poster that adorns the shop window. It’s a face cream advertisement.
I pull back and forth. A long sigh leaves my mouth.
I need a jar of anti-wrinkle moisturizer with collagen. I never buy expensive face creams but today I want to spoil myself rotten.
I step into the shop, stand by the shelf with face creams, and pick up one of the blue jars.
An iron would be more effective but the moisturizer smells divine and I’m eager to test it. I pay with cash and walk out of the shop.
I catch a bus and settle myself in the back. I bathe in my thoughts. In my fantasies to be precise.
Ethan’s lips are so kissable, slightly asymmetric and with a thin scar. Very tempting.
His arms? Strong and muscular. Soothing.
And that tattoo of his. It’s an eagle with outspread wings and it adorns his back like a warrior’s mark. Yes, I’ve seen him splitting the firewood for Sally twice. What a delicious view. Pure masculinity.
I want to dig my fingers into his back when he’s buried inside of me to the root.
My core heats up and my cheeks seize with fire.
Rhue, he is a young man.
Tyce
I drop onto the couch as the kids sit down on the floor. Diana perches on the armrest. The younger kids prop their elbows on their knees and rest their chins against their palms.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
They shake their heads and it looks like a funny wave. Yeah, they’re funny little shits.
“Are you thirsty?” I ask.
Diana chuckles. “They want to ask about your scars.”
I nod. “What do you want to know?”
