by C. J. Pinard
By the end of the night, Trey was too drunk to drive. I talked him into giving me the keys and with very little argument he handed them over. I was a little nervous about driving his parents’ car, but felt I had a better chance if I drove than him. When we got into the car, a very, very drunk Trey apologized over and over again for ruining the night. He told me he was sorry, but he stilled loved Bonnie. He then asked me something that would forever change my life. He asked if I would mind driving out to a local spot so he could sober up a bit. A thousand times afterwards, I wished I’d said no, but I agreed.
Driving Trey’s parents’ Corvette up through the mountainous terrain of the Great Smokey Mountains was a little challenging, but I took it slow and made it just fine. The place Trey wanted to go was where the couples from school usually went to park. On that night, we had the lookout to ourselves, I assumed because everyone was at the prom. By the time I’d reached the lookout, Trey was passed out in the seat next to me. I sat with him for almost an hour before I slipped out of the car, tired of being cooped up inside.
I moved around to the hood of the car and leaned against it, looking up at the black sky littered with thousands of bright stars. It seemed almost surreal here. Almost as if you could reach up and actually touch a star. I’d not been standing next to the car for long when a Jeep pulled into the lookout filled with several people. With no additional lighting, it was hard to tell for sure who was in the Jeep. Their music was loud and laughter whooped from the Jeep’s interior. I turned away from them, ignoring them the best I could.
Some of the guys began to catcall to me, Hey baby, looking for a good time, but I kept my head turned away from them. I heard a door of the Jeep open and decided it was time to leave. I’d turned to go back to the driver’s side, when a guy appeared at the back of the car. In the light of the moon and stars, all I could make out was that the guy was dark-haired, around six foot tall, was about nineteen or twenty, and wore jeans.
“Hey, baby, where you takin’ off to? The fun’s just starting.”
I continued to ignore him and took another step towards the safety of the car. I prayed Trey would wake up.
“Oh no, baby. You can’t go anywhere. How about you come for a ride with us?”
Swallowing, I’d answered, “No, thank you.” And took another step towards the car’s door.
“I wasn’t really askin’,” the dark-haired guy said.
Before I understood his intentions, the guy grabbed me and hauled me off my feet, causing one of my silver heels to come off my foot. I screamed and tried to buck out of his arms, but he was too strong. He wrapped an arm around my waist and clamped one hand over my mouth, effectively silencing me. He dragged me into the Jeep where the three others waited and we drove off.
The rest passed in a blur, most of which I’ve through sheer will blocked from my memory. They drove me to a deserted spot further up the mountain and each had a turn violating my young and innocent body. My beautiful white dress was torn and ruined. Once the last guy had finished, they took turns plunging the toes of their boots into my soft flesh then proceeded to spit on me – as if that would somehow make me feel worse. Once the novelty of that passed, they picked me up and tossed me over the guardrail. I remember only bits and pieces of this, fortunately. Sometime later, I regained consciousness at the bottom of the ravine, my dress and body dirty, bloody, and ruined. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I knew I had to climb out or I would die down there.
So with every part of my body crying in pain, and with sobs being ripped from my body, bit by slow bit, I crawled my way to the top of the ridge, and back to the guardrail. The way up was not easy as the soil kept crumbling beneath me, sending me skirting back down the mountainside.
I don’t know how long I sat hunched next to guardrail sobbing and broken. But eventually, I made myself get up and began to walk down the winding road, hoping someone would come along and help me. I’d walked what I guessed was about three miles – which seemed to take hours – when I saw headlights coming in my direction. Relief flooded my body and I staggered to my knees. Waving my arms in the direction of the lights, my relief was even more intensified when I saw the vehicle begin to slow and pull over.
It took me a long moment to realize the vehicle which had pulled over was the same Jeep I’d been abducted in. Before I could move, two of the guys in the Jeep jumped out and with even more fury pounded me before once more tossing, what they assumed to be, my lifeless body over the edge of the mountain.
It was two days before I was found in the bottom of that ravine. I was dehydrated, suffered several broken bones, and numerous bug bites. The swelling to my face had been such that I was unrecognizable. While I didn’t actually know the guys who’d beaten and raped me, I refused to give any information to the police at all. I just wanted it over. I never returned to school and left as soon as I was able to live with my mother’s elderly aunt in upstate New York. I never laid eyes on Trey Montgomery again… until tonight.
I went through a horrible period when I lived with my great aunt. I was depressed, drank too much, and was very promiscuous. What did it matter? Everything good had already been stolen from me, so why not?
On my eighteenth birthday my parents, along with my younger brother, traveled to my great aunt’s to be with me on my birthday. It’d rained a lot that year, and it was raining on that day, as well. My father, who drove, hit some water on the road and his car spun out of control, sending the car flipping over the guardrail. My father, my mother, and my brother all died at the scene. What grasp I had on life and reality quickly slipped through my fingers like water through a sieve. Once things were settled, I hit the road, tired of having to always answer to someone else, and needing to find myself, as they say. I went to the big city – the Big Apple – to make my fame and fortune. But I ended up waiting tables and slept with whoever had a bed. I bumped around the city for several years before some guy – whose name I can’t even remember – wanted to come to Atlantic City. We can get rich there, he’d said, we can work in the casinos, maybe meet up with some high-rollers. As my luck had been for the bulk of my life, ‘whatever his name was’ overdosed within the first week.
Deciding I needed to change my life, I changed my name to Chance LaMont; then changed my hair color and eye color. I wanted to change everything that made me average. I wanted more – I wanted some luck, good luck this time. While I didn’t find any high-rollers, I did find work in the casinos. I worked many jobs: janitorial; dish washer; waitress; front desk; laundry; until one day, a sleezeball manager wanting to get laid, gave me a job as a blackjack dealer. With time, I landed a job at the prestigious Diamond Mine Casino, where I fell under the eye of Conner Diamond.
At first, Con’s attention had been flattering. He’d taken me to the best restaurants, the best shows. Money wasn’t an object. Plus, Con didn’t know about my sordid past. He treated me as if I were special, as if I were someone. I liked that. It took me a while to realize the cruel streak running through Conner Diamond. But once ensconced within his web, it’d been impossible to escape. The one time I tried to leave, he’d had his goons come and drag me back, and had beaten me. I didn’t try again. I rationalized in my mind that it could always be worse. I could still be sleeping from pillar to post, not knowing where my next meal was coming from.
I think often of the fortuneteller’s words now… luck doesn’t strike everyone. I guess she was right, because I have none – or at least only bad luck. What were the chances of me running into Trey Montgomery, here in Atlantic City – hundreds of miles from Tennessee – after all this time? Yep, just my bad luck. I wonder if he thinks about that night? If he feels guilty?
I don’t blame Trey for what happened. Instead, when I think of him, I don’t think about what happened once we arrived at the prom – I only think about how I felt when he asked me. My golden boy – my prince. I don’t think about my ruined, torn, bloody, white dress – I think of standing in my parents’ entryway with my ha
ir piled in ringlets and a red rose corsage strapped to my wrist, and Trey Montgomery – the quarterback of the football team – smiling down at me as my mother takes pictures. It may be denial that I’m living in, but I’ll take it over reality any day.
As I lie on the settee and think of the path that led the princess in the white dress to here, I turn my head and let the tears slip silent as rain down a pane of glass down my cheeks. I must have dozed off as I’m awoken to the sounds of the door being unlocked. I turn my head in the darkness to see Con stumble into the penthouse.
“What the hell? Why’s it so dark in here,” he slurs.
Stumbling into the bedroom, he bellows out my name. My hope is that he will crash on the bed and drift off to sleep. But, he steps back into the living area and bellows my name again as he flips on the lights. I sit up, swing my feet to the floor, and blink my eyes against the light.
“Why the hell are you sitting in the dark?”
“No reason,” I answer quietly.
“Are you sulking?”
“No.”
“Come here,” he murmurs.
With slow steps, I rise from my seat and walk woodenly to him. With his alcohol-soaked vision, he stares at me with dire intensity. Not finding the answer he’s searching for, he grabs me by my throat and slams me up against the wall.
“If you took care of business here, I wouldn’t have to get my entertainment elsewhere. So you have no one else to blame but yourself. Besides, didn’t you enjoy your gift? The rich stud from Tennessee?” Staring into my eyes and with a gentle touch runs the fingertips of one hand across my cheekbone, he slurs with deceptive lightness, “You ever been to Tennessee, Chance?”
My heart begins to pound. Does he know? No, there’s no way. I’ve covered my tracks. I give a slow shake my head, trying to swallow against the pressure of his hand still around my throat. I can’t breathe and my eyes are watering from his grip.
With his lips twisting into a cruel smile, he increases the pressure before saying, “No, huh? Well, get those clothes off and get on that bed.”
He releases his grip, and on trembling legs, I do as I’m told.
Chapter 2
I awake the next morning to someone banging on the penthouse door. Con sits up with a groan and a curse as he picks up the alarm clock by the bed.
“Damn it.” Leaning over, he slaps me on my bottom. “Get up. We’re late,” he mumbles.
I roll over and squint against the early morning sun. “Late for what?”
“Montgomery requested your presence on our little fishing trip this morning. I guess you made quite the impression last night.”
“I… I… I think you’ll have a better time without me, don’t you?” I say softly.
“Yes, I do. However, Trey Montgomery wants you, so you’re coming,” he says with finality.
I hesitate until I hear Con exhale loudly. I guess I’ll just have to suffer through the outing and try to stay out of Trey’s way.
As I brush my teeth in front of the bathroom sink, I glance down at the additional bruises running across my shoulders and chest. I turn my back to the mirror and see several there, as well. I’ll have to try and find an inventive way to hide them while out on the boat. In the end, I choose a white bikini with a long-sleeved, sheer cover-up.
For the entirety of the drive to the marina, Con lamentes about Trey Montgomery’s wealth and wonders aloud how such a dumbass such as Trey Montgomery could have amassed such a fortune. I wonder also, not that I think Trey is dumb, but I know Trey came from an upper middle-class family and not wealth. I want to ask Con how Trey had amassed his fortune, but am afraid he’ll read too much into the question.
Trey Montgomery’s craft could not, in any stretch of the imagination, be called a boat; even yacht was too mild a word for the opulence of his vessel. Its white exterior and silver trim gleams in the sunlight. With obvious pride, flying from his yacht, Trey has three pennant flags on his main mast: the red state flag of Tennessee with its standard blue stripe; a white flag with the yacht ensign embossed; and to my delight and melancholy, our old school flag – yellow with a green shamrock. The mighty Shamrocks, we’d been called.
The moment Con strolled up the gangplank, he became the person other people usually saw him as; fun-loving, gregarious, and friendly. He grabs my hand, makes a show of raising my fingertips to his lips, and pulls me along with him. From the outside, I am sure we look happy and in love.
We are shown to the upper deck where Trey is enjoying breakfast and juice. Con ushers me into a chair between he and Trey and orders a Bloody Mary – hair of the dog, he grouses. Trey flashs him a smile of sympathy and turns his attention to me. I decline a beverage with a quick smile and slip my sunglasses back over my eyes.
Once the yacht has pulled out of the harbor and onto the open sea, Con begins to regale Trey with his exploits as the son of a casino owner. As I’d heard the stories many times over, I tune Con out and stare instead out over the sparkling blue water. Several times during their conversation, I feel Trey’s eyes on me, but I refuse to meet his gaze. With nervous fingers, I fold the material of my cover-up.
Eventually, the discussion between the two men turn to the subject of what has brought them out today: fishing.
“I’m excited to be out today. I recently bought a company that invented a new type of fishing line that is suppose to be one hundred percent animal friendly,” Trey says excitedly.
Con looks at Trey expectedly, grinning, waiting on the punch line. Finally he says, “Seriously? Aren’t we going to kill the fish we catch with it? Won’t that interfere with the animal friendly percentage?” he mocks.
As Trey lifts his juice to his lips, I see his lips tighten. “The fishing line is completely usable just like any other line; however, if submerged in water for longer than two hours, it will begin to dissolve. You wouldn’t believe how many sea creatures have been harmed due to people carelessly tossing their broken string into the ocean. This line is completely biodegradable.”
“Quite the humanitarian, aren’t you?” Con smirks, supposedly good-naturedly. Only I know he isn’t being good-natured.
“I believe we should leave a small footprint on this earth. We were entrusted a long time ago to protect the creatures of the world, and we have failed at every turn. I’m trying to right that… in my small way. We should protect those who cannot protect themselves, don’t you think?” he asks, casting a quick glance in my direction.
Once again, I refuse to meet Trey’s eyes.
“Well, let’s take a look at your little world-saving invention,” Con teases him.
Trey reaches into his tackle box and pulls out a spool of lime-green fishing line. It’s thicker than traditional line. It reminds me a little of a single strand of the Twizzler candy we’d eaten as kids.
Con eyes it courteously before handing it back. “Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stick to my old tried and true.” As he speaks, Con reaches into his own tackle box and removes a spool of fluorescent sky-blue fishing line. “While I don’t own the company which manufactures this line, I am one of the few people to use it here in the United States. I have it imported from China. I discovered it during my travels with my father. As a tribute to him, it’s all I use.”
“As you wish,” Trey murmures graciously.
While Trey and Con set about preparing their fishing poles, I rise quietly and make my way to the rail and stare out over the vastness of the water. It is a beautiful day, the sun causes the water to shimmer and sparkle.
I jump and spun my head in his direction when I hear Trey’s voice beside me asking,” Do you get out to the water often? Or are you one of those people who’ve seen it so much, it’s lost its appeal?”
As I tighten my grip on the railing and pull my gaze away from his, I look back to the ocean and reply, “I try to swim every day. I love the ocean. It… soothes me.”
“Oh yeah? Me too. I love the water. My mom used to say she thought I was part fish
. I’d never leave my boat if I could get away with it.”
My stomach begins to twist into knots. Being close to Trey makes me think – not of the bad things that had happened – but of the tender feelings I’d had for him; first love and all that. I swallow and move slightly away from him. He startles me by grabbing my shoulder.
I can’t contain the wince where he inadvertently touches one of my bruises. He eyes me peculiarly before directing my attention to a school of dolphin not far off. They are beautiful. Their silver skin glistens in the sun. They swim in circles with each other and seem happy as they jump high into the air.
“They’re beautiful,” I enthuse.
“You know, in Celtic animal symbolism, the dolphin is a highly honored creature, as it’s seen as the protector of sacred wells and sacred waters. The dolphin, to the Celtic mind, is the watcher of the waters, and the guardians of those on the waters. They’re considered… lucky, I guess you could say.”
With more melancholy than I’d intend, I mutter, “I wish I was one of them.”
Trey turn his head and studies me for a long time before replying quietly, “Sometimes we make our own luck, Chance.”
I inhale sharply at his words and swallow hard to stay the tears which threaten. I can’t endure his pity right now. Leaving him at the rail, I return to my seat next to Con.
“You and Montgomery certainly looked cozy just now. What were you talking about?” Con whispers into my ear as he makes a show of kissing my cheek.
“Nothing, he was just telling me about dolphins being lucky.”
“Lucky? Dolphins are stupid. Why else would they continuously get caught up in fishing nets?”
Not wanting to get into a discussion with Con, I simply shrug my shoulders and lean back in my chair and pull my hat down further as if provide more shade, but really to hide from both men. I slide my E-reader from my bag and further shut them out.
