The Wallace Girl: The Feud Series

by Scott, Eliot

  I’d been so ignorant of the depth of it all back then so I answered with so much hope. “Yes, Sir. I’d like to be done, too. Only I’d like to not do it this way, please. There must be another way? I’m sure if we just talk with Jojo’s family…”

  “I’ll kill the girl, outright. Will that make you happy?”

  “What? No, sir! You can’t be serious.”

  He didn’t answer that with words. He charged over and punched me so hard I slammed into the mahogany walls of his office. He nearly knocked me out, and I crumpled to the floor like a duck that’s been shot falling straight out of the sky.

  He stood over my body, one leg on either side of me. “I’m always serious, son. Now stand the fuck back up and tell me exactly what happened during homecoming.”

  He yanked me to my feet, and shoved me into one of his big leather wing chairs just like I was a rag-doll. “Grady tells me it was a big success. I planned that myself, down to every little detail. I even bribed that asshole principal to make sure he let it play out just right. He’d been covering the door for me and asn’t to let anyone through but you. I heard the girl went home with a torn dress and smelling like vodka. Crying. Oh, crying a lot!” He chuckled, and it shook his chest. “I’ll just fucking bet her parents lost their goddamned minds when they saw her. I would have loved to have been there when she told them the story.”

  I’d nodded. It’s all I could do because my head was still full of flashes and pain from that punch. I was also so shocked, so horrified and numb, that I had no words.

  “Good. Good. Well…now you know. You’ve been my mole all along. I couldn’t tell you about the plans until now, because I was afraid you wouldn’t understand. You were too young, still all stupid with your books and your fishing poles and that…crush. I saw that Wallace girl up at the lake just before your birthday. She was just like you, skinny and ugly and muddy, but she was fishing, too. That’s when I decided I’d give you the lake. I knew you’d go up there; you’d fish and you’d meet her. And fuck me but you did. You met her the first day. All I had to do was watch and wait.

  Father leaned over and punched me in the shoulder conspiratorially, then added, “And damn…but she might be more of a little whore than her mother, or maybe it’s just because it’s a different time. I only got to feel her mother up a couple of times—she held out on me. She made me beg. But Grady tells me that you’re the one making that new Wallace girl beg for it. It drives Grady mad that I won’t let him have a piece of her. But I’m proud of you son—chip off the old block with your skills, eh? You haven’t fucked her yet though have you?”

  “No…” was all I could say. The shock was setting in—the pain in my head all keeping me still.

  “Well, you’re not to fuck her. Hear me, boy? You do what you need to do to get your rocks off but you won’t put your dick in her. I’ll not suffer a monster grandchild. You hear me? I won’t have that shame on me, nor will you. You do what you want but you don’t ever fuck that poisonous Wallace girl.”

  Jojo shifts in my arms and moans, bringing me back to the here and now, and I think about all of the times she and I didn’t have sex—all of the times I waited. And I think about when I disobeyed my father on that command.

  We didn’t fuck. I made love to her…twice. It was her first time, and she was beautiful. The sex was spectacular and incredible because Jojo’s love for me was so real and so huge. I’d been ruined by prostitutes by then, gifts from my father.

  Jojo gave me her everything—her heart and soul, her dreams and her hopes. And I took it all and stole it away, even though I knew it was wrong.

  Then…I made her cry so hard.

  24.

  Alex, Sophomore Year.

  “I love her, Father. I love her so much.”

  “I know you do, boy. I know you do, and I hear she loves you right back.” That was Father’s only response.

  He leapt out of his chair and poured me my first drink of scotch. “You manned up way more than I thought you were capable of. You’ve taken it to a level I didn’t expect.”

  He forced me to drink. Then he told me words I had always thought I wanted to hear: I became a good and perfect son. He claimed gleefully that I’d done everything even better than he could have planned, and all on my own.

  All on my own.

  He told me more of his plan. That my relationship with Jojo would serve to mess with her family, especially her mother—the woman Father truly wanted revenge on—until they were all dead and buried in the ground.

  He claimed it was my “destiny and birthright,” and again that he was “so proud” of me. I was a good Sinclair. Maybe even a great Sinclair.

  After the scotch carved down my throat, warmed my body, and numbed some of the pain, my father explained more of what was to be my part. He told me that we each had a part. Him, me, Grady…even our mother was in on this.

  All I had to do was keep doing more of the same.

  “Reel her in, keep on going to her family’s farm, keep doing what you’ve been doing but with the intent now—the conscious intent—to reel them all in to feeling comfortable with you.”

  He explained how, little by little, he’d orchestrate nights like tonight where we’d mess with Jojo, where we’d toy with her until her mother understood just what side I was on. We’d dangle the idea that we would break Jojo, but never really do it, all to escalate Jojo’s mother’s fears about the Sinclairs and what we’re capable of. We were breathing life and death back into the feud, and we wouldn’t stop until Jojo’s mother started to break and everything hers became ours.

  “Nothing hurts parents—a mother—more than when their kids are truly fucked with and in danger, right?”

  That’s what Father had said to my face. His eyes became unrecognizable to me.

  I’ll always remember how he meant it to his core. It was completely lost on him that I was his kid, and he’d been fucking with me since he’d given me the lake. And Grady was his kid, and that he’d broken Grady’s arm and his football dreams and made him so dark and lost. I remember understanding that nothing hurt me and Grady more than our own father had. I remember knowing that he didn’t care.

  Didn’t care at all.

  Grady arrived just as the truth settled into my chest. His shoulder still had bandages from the expensive surgery father paid for—only the best doctors from Seattle would do. I couldn’t look at my brother all of a sudden. Grady just acted like everything was fine. He simply walked in and spoke. “Hello, Father. Alex.”

  “How was practice, boy?”

  “Good.”

  “That new replacement quarterback going to shame the team?”

  Grady didn’t even flinch. He just nodded and answered like a robot. “He’s getting better. Should be a good game Friday.”

  Even in the face of all of that, I was clinging to denial. I was in shock, but I still wasn’t afraid enough. I thought to my core that I could change my father’s mind, talk the man out of it all.

  Ha! In retrospect, that was my biggest mistake.

  I begged in front of them both. I stood and cried big fat tears down my face like a baby, and then I begged them to leave Jojo and Mr. and Ms. Wallace at peace.

  Worse, I showed them all of my weaknesses. It was undeniable that my love was real. As much as my father wanted that to happen to me—to me and to Jojo—he also felt personally threatened by it. When he looked into my eyes, all he saw was his past self—a pathetic, lovestruck boy. The final straw was when I said I wanted to marry Jojo one day. I dared to stupidly suggest that our marriage, our love, could end the feud.

  “End it the right way,” I’d said.

  My father lost his shit. That’s when I got my second face punch. I don’t know what my head had whacked into that time, but the resulting lump lasted more than a week.

  Grady was the one who helped me up that time. With his good arm, he pulled me to my feet. His eyes were as shocked as mine that Father had done that to me, but his eyes were g
linting with some odd sort of pleasure, relief that I was finally getting mine. It wasn’t him being hit this time.

  “Be happy. Father’s first homecoming idea was that I should grab Jojo from you, fuck her and then pass her around to my friends before handing her back. But he changed his mind, said it was too dangerous, that it would be over too fast for Jojo’s parents that way. He told me I could do what I wanted as long as I shamed her good, and that you delivered her all sobbing and broken on her daddy’s front porch.”

  He spilled out the truth as if it was meant to make me feel better. It only made the bile burn up my throat along the same path the scotch went down.

  “Mission accomplished,” I whispered, bitterly.

  “Almost time for the bigger plan.” Father smiled.

  “Bigger…plan…?” I parroted, nearly blacking out from the effort it took to stand without crying.

  “Yes, dumbass. Do you think I would have let puny-ass you stop me from fucking that girl tonight otherwise? She’s so fucking hot. I’ve watched you two enough times mauling each other up at that lake. I can’t get that girl’s tits or the way she moans when she’s coming out of my mind.”

  “I’ll fucking kill you if you ever touch her, or spy on us or say shit like that to me again, Grady!” My eyes glared through him like fire.

  Because I was still only about a hundred and thirty pounds that year and my threat to them was only air and fear, Father merely moved his hand to my throat to choke me. “Threaten someone in your family again and you will be the one to die. I made you. I own you. You’re my sons and you both will do no harm to each other. I won’t stand for it. You’ll do as I ask you, no matter what that might be. I decide who lives and who dies. Do you understand? If not, everyone you care about or even have an acquaintance with will cease to exist. Do you hear me you little fuck? Stop acting like a joke.”

  When I nodded in agreement, he threw me halfway across the room, and he and Grady just watched me gasping and struggling for consciousness, both of them wearing twin expressions like I’d turned into some sort of a worm.

  When I caught my breath and could hear sounds beyond the river of white noise pounding in between, my Father stepped his boots right up against my knees. Hard. “If you truly love that girl, like I know you do, you sappy motherfucker, you’re going to listen, and then you’re going to apologize to me and your brother.”

  I struggled to my feet to look him in the eyes, and somehow, I’d managed to swallow down my tears and nod.

  “Yes, Sir.” Swaying on my feet, eyes rolling some, I added, “What’s your ultimate goal?” I had to know. My only hope was to figure out who these people were and how Jojo fit in between us all.

  Father shrugged. “I suppose that’s not entirely written yet. My goal is that her father suffers. My goal is that her mother suffers more. And I know they’ve been in quite a panic ever since you showed up at their farm and started sniffing around their daughter. They’ve been suffering for months. Now I’m bored. I want more.”

  “They have not panicked. They like me. I know they do.” My words were so ignorant.

  “Because I wanted them to like you, to keep liking you. And I’m willing to compromise, as long as you comply with my plan and she never knows the truth. Pain for pain—it can stay with adults for now. There’s plenty of time to ruin her later.”

  I nodded, seeking some sort of refuge inside my father’s words. If he meant to ‘ruin her later,’ I had time to figure out a way to rescue her.

  “I just found out that old bitch’s cancer is back. That should mess up sweet little Jojo’s heart and mind pretty good all by itself.” My eyes widened with surprise, because Jojo hadn’t brought that up to me, so I wondered if she even knew this news yet.

  My father had been rubbing his chin, looking up to the ceiling, his face all aglow with happiness. “I can only imagine the panic that woman feels, knowing she’s out of remission. Knowing she’s on round two with not much of her lungs left. It’s a death sentence, and I get to watch.” He chuckled. “It’s got to kill her that she knows she’s going to die while we Sinclairs circle around her darling daughter.”

  He paced over to me, eyes locking on mine. “I’d like to take credit for the cancer coming back. The stress of you dating her and all, it had to play a part in this resurgence.”

  “How long do I have to do this?” I asked, trying to swallow down a new wave of vomit and hide the shaking in my legs.

  “When Jojo’s mom is dead, you can stop the game. If she approaches me first—if she’s sorry and gives me back what I gave to her in good faith, well then—we’ll change up the rules. I’ll keep you posted, don’t worry.”

  Grady pushed in front of me. “After Mrs. Wallace dies, can I have Jojo then? It should be my turn, right?”

  He and my dad were treating this like we were all fighting over a toy!

  “I can’t hurt the Wallaces. I just can’t.” I whispered, stepping back and flinching for the blow that never came, but instead my father only laughed.

  “I’m not asking you to hurt them son, I’m asking you to love them and care for them like I know you already do so unwaveringly. We’re all going to go on doing exactly what we’re best at, son.” His smile grew and grew until it was Cheshire Cat wide. “The hurting part is all mine.”

  25.

  Alex, Present Day.

  I lie down next to her on top of the covers to keep an appropriate distance between our bodies. I’m not even sure why I’m keeping the line there anymore. Habit maybe. It’s clear that it doesn’t matter how I treat her personally, the people who want to hurt her are just going to keep doing so. Grady won’t stop. My mom won’t let go. Happiness is not in my fortune.

  Jojo reattaches her hand into mine, instantly breaking down the idea of me keeping up barriers. “What are you thinking about?” she asks quietly, scooting as close as she can scoot until I feel the warmth along her side radiate through the covers into my body.

  I don’t lie. I don’t have it in me anymore.

  “I’m thinking about that homecoming dance where Grady attacked you, and how he’s always thought he was going to have his way with you—get his turn. Those are the exact words he said to me while you were blacked out.”

  I spare a short glance to catch the disgust on her face. It’s a slow melting of an expression because she isn’t surprised by what I said, she’s just sickened.

  “I keep thinking about my father. Thinking about you.” I finish in a whisper. “Your parents. Everything.”

  Her eyes tighten at the edges. “Well…don’t. Please don’t.” She finishes with a huge shiver, her voice just whispers, and her eyes move away from me just as I try to stare into them.

  “How can I not, Jojo?”

  She doesn’t answer for several seconds, and I nearly pass out from holding my breath. It would be such an easy death, a peacefulness I don’t deserve. When I feel her move, I expect her to turn away from me, but for some reason she moves closer, this time placing the weight of her head onto my shoulder.

  It soothes. It crushes.

  I don’t deserve this.

  Just like the puppet strings my father and my brother were consciously pulling to make me dance because they knew I’d do anything to protect Jojo from harm, she has always unconsciously been able to pull at my heart. Her tugs were always to make me be closer to her, physically and emotionally.

  JoJo somehow always knew that if she felt cold, or hurt, or sad, that I couldn't resist trying to fix those things for her. It’s what makes my DNA different from Grady. When pushed to my limits, I run to save her instead of destroy her.

  I can tell from the little furrows in her brow and the side of her face turning shades of reds and purples from bruising that she's obviously hurt. She’s also probably still cold because the girl was always that. And because she’s forced to be near me again, she has to be all kinds of sad. Her strings tug so hard, and I know I’ll give in to anything.

  “The last ti
me we were together you told me you hated me. Is that still how you feel?” she asks, cracking a hole into my patched-up heart. I’ve played the scene over thousands of times. The hurt on her face is what I see when I close my eyes at night. It’s the biggest lie I ever told.

  “Do you have to ask that, Jojo? You must know it was all lies by now.” My mouth goes dry with the words, and I nearly choke. Saying this out loud to her is something I’ve wanted to do for so long, but couldn’t. I still shouldn’t, but my resolve has long passed. I’m in dangerous territory, and I’ve lost my way back.

  She picks up her head, looks me dead in the eyes, and blinks. The line of her lips turns up in that stubborn, relentless smile of hers that I’d nearly forgotten. It’s so faint, but it’s her tell. “I want to hear you say you don’t.”

  I hold her precious stare for several breaths, swimming in the sea of her gaze and letting the painful past squeeze at my chest just one more time.

  “I don’t. I could never. And I’m—s—”

  “Shh.” She shoves a quick hand over my mouth. The mere brush of something of hers on my lips stuns me like a thousand volts. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  The rest of my patched up heart crumples into dust, yet still it’s beating, and I don’t know how.