by Scott, Eliot
Things about Jojo. Things that they will do to her if I mess up today. I make myself see my own Father wrestling with my girlfriend, hitting her how he hits me, fucking her how he threatens to do.
I picture myself held in Grady's vice-grip while Grady and I watch this happening. I see Jojo's mom—weak and broken from her chemo appointment—trying to stop Jojo from being hurt, and getting kicked to the dirt by my father's boots.
I make myself imagine Grady “having his turn” with Jojo's broken and sobbing body, just how he's wanted since this all started.
I make it worse and worse, imagining Jojo's screams and cries over and over inside my head as I near the top.
I feel sick.
If you fail, Alex Sinclair…if you slip up—if you say the wrong thing—if you do the wrong thing and get yourself killed today, then Jojo and her mom will hurt more than you can imagine. Don't forget that. Whatever Father and Grady are doing here, don't forget Jojo. Stay focused.
As we reach the top steps and walk onto the long metal landing that leads to a narrow door and the internal walkways inside, I glance back at Grady—at the gun. I imagine myself pulling the gun out of Grady's hand. I picture myself shooting Grady in the head, and then envision turning it on my father.
I'll do it fast. I'll do it before Father ever sees it coming. If these people, my family, are serious, then I’m serious too.
This—the feud—it will finally be over.
I will kill my father. I will kill my brother.
I will confess that I did it.
I will be just as happy about my plan as they are about theirs.
I will. I will stop this.
I will, I will, I will…
“What are you waiting for? Open the door, Jackwad! I hate being up this high,” Grady commands.
"I can't open it at all if you're trying to put your dick up in my ass, so move the fuck back," I growl back at him, acting annoyed. I act just like Father. I've already decided not to make a grab for the gun. I can't afford to be impulsive just yet. I need to figure out if Mr. Wallace is still alive.
Grady half clocks my head with the gun as he reaches over me to use the gun to bang on the metal door, muttering “oops” as though that hit was an accident while shouting the obvious “Father. We're here!”
“Come on in. It's secure.” My father's muffled reply comes through the door.
Grady finally steps back as I'd asked him. He watches me carefully as I press the handle down hard and pull the door open wide and fast. I step in quickly and am able to get my bearings fast—I’ve been here. But when I realize what's really happening, my heart sinks. My soul dies.
Father's on the mirrored platform walkway, the one that's directly across the way from where Grady's keeping me at gunpoint. My mouth must have dropped open in surprise, and Grady, who has been watching me, lets out another snide and cruel laugh.
“Fucking dumbass Alex...close your mouth before some flies head in there." He cackles again. "You're so easy to fool."
No...no. No wonder Father's voice had sounded so muffled. He's on the other side.
Father's leaning over the metal railing, and his elated smile matches Grady’s, his laughter just as cruel and delighted, as though he knows I've just realized they've rattled me. They tricked me again by the simple act of parking the car by the door on the far side.
Not that I'd had the choice as to which staircase I could go up, all thanks to the gun. But Father had obviously wanted me to think he was holding Mr. Wallace hostage on this side. Father had wanted me to think that maybe I could change things. Stop it. When now, it's obvious that I can't.
The only way to get to where they are—the only way to try to stop this—is if I were to dash out of this door, run down the steps and then run up the other side. They know there’s no time for that. Even if I managed to break free, it would be too late for Mr. Wallace.
Too late for me.
Way too fucking late.
Holding myself deadly still, I allow my eyes to meet Father’s, then Grady's. Their smug satisfaction and obvious delight at how this is playing out is like a throat punch. I can see myself inside their eyes. I'm like a dog that just keeps coming back, hoping to get petted, even after it's been kicked and kicked.
Grady gently places his gunpoint on my temple. No bruising pressure needed. No more head smacks. Only cold, hard steel against the exact spot that is throbbing with my rapidly dying heartbeats. This is the exact spot where the blood in my veins has just turned to ice.
I get what's happening and why.
This is my fault. I've been so naive.
As though Father can read my mind, he asks, "Did Grady explain everything to you, Alex? Why we are at this point in our little game? Why we are taking this drastic step with our dear friend here? Why Mr. Wallace must die earlier than expected?"
I don't answer him yet, because I've finally noticed that in addition to his own gun—one that he's pointed at Mr. Wallace—Father's also been holding one of the oversized wrenches Mr. Wallace and I use to tighten the bolts of the walkways each year.
Last night at dinner, I mentioned those huge wrenches to Father. I told him that I'd be up here working today. "I'm helping Mr. Wallace winterize the granary again this year,” I’d said.
Father had been so curious as to what that meant, exactly. I fucking gave him the details. I told him we only had to tighten the bolts on the right side of the granary walkway, the ones that always seem to become loose after the heat of the summer. The foundation underneath has settled over the years, I’d explained.
Fuck! I'd gone on and on. I'd even told Father exactly how dangerous the walkways could become if the bolts stayed loose.
The whole end of the walkway could go down into the grain...
The right side...
Right side of the granary walkway...
Where they are standing now.
Where I can't get to in time even if I could fight Grady and run.
I gave Father this idea. I should have known. I should have been better, smarter—understood. They always say I’m so stupid, and they are right. I am.
Father chuckles with manic delight.
“I’ve told Mr. Wallace here that you're very sorry about it all. That you didn't mean to directly go against your father's wishes, but that you did, and that you have done so for too long now. He understands parenting and the need for proper consequences. I also told him that today is the day of reckoning. This is your punishment, Alex. Even more than this bastard's punishment for stealing away my fiancé. Because all of this, it's really all her fault, isn't it? That whore! Fucking Wallace girl that she became. She took my ring, she made me a promise and then she broke it, didn’t she?”
His voice cracks with half-bitter sarcasm and half sheer-Sinclair fury.
“Changed her mind, she’d said. But see, I never changed mine. And I still want back what was supposed to be mine. What she's held hostage from me, and what she refuses to give back! She's thought all along that move had protected her, protected her family. Her husband and her little devil's spawn. That's always been her bargaining chip, but she's got no clue that I've been planning this murder since the day of her wedding. I gave her the chance to return it, but now she will give it all back to me—and on my terms now. One drop of her family's blood at a time. And you, Alex and Grady—my sons—you’re going to help me right this wrong.”
5.
Jojo, Present Day.
I almost forgot what it feels like to wake with nothing but a lakeside breeze tickling your face and tangled sheets keeping the chill from your bare legs. I haven’t slept so still, so peaceful, since I was a child.
Since Alex and I were innocent best friends who liked to splash each other in the water and gross each other out with fat worms smooshed on the wooden planks of our favorite pier. One kiss, and I never truly felt safe to sleep alone again. I gave the safety up gladly, though, and I’d do it all again for him. The heart wants what it wants, and Ale
x makes me believe in things like destiny. He and I are the answer to nearly a century of deceit and lies, the place where our twisted family lines begin to weave together.
My eyes linger on his back. I knew the moment he woke up and slipped out of bed. It’s colder without him.
“You’ve always loved staring at the water.” He doesn’t flinch at my words. He knows I’ve been watching him.
Alex’s shoulders rise slightly with a breathy laugh.
“It drove my father nuts when I’d do this,” he says. “He said I daydreamed, and maybe that’s what it was. I kinda think I was escaping, though. I don’t know…” His words trail off.
I slide from the bed, wrapping my body in the silky cream sheets. Alex turns, making room for me on his lap, so I sit to stare out at the water with him. The way the light plays off of the ripples, it looks like thousands of diamonds. Fitting, since the riches of the world are in that water. You control the water…you control the world.
“Remember the underwater world we were going to build?” I ask.
His chest shakes against me with his laughter. “’Just keep digging!’ You would yell that every time I tried to talk you into giving up.”
“No matter how deep we tunneled on the beach, the water would just flow right in.” I roll my eyes understanding the physics better now that I’m an adult.
“I wanted to build that tunnel for you,” Alex hums, his rough cheek scratching against my bare arm as he rests against me, sliding his hands around my body.
“You built me this instead.” My eyes wander to the side, looking at the details that were so obviously meant for my attention, from the buttercup yellow window seat and wall of books to the soaring ceiling beams, knotted and stained by hand. I know without asking that Alex was responsible for that part. He was always so talented with his hands. In another life, he would have been a carpenter. Instead he was a prisoner.
“I put this window here under the delusion that one day, I’d watch the sun rise with you, right here…just like this.”
I feel him take in a heavy breath, so I turn and wrap my arms around him, our eyes meeting.
“You say delusions…I say faith. You had faith, Alex.” My chin drops as his rises, and our lips brush lightly.
“I have faith in you,” he whispers the words against me.
My mouth curves in reaction. I arch my back and roll my shoulders, testing the tenderness of my muscles. The soreness is there, but not as bad as I thought it would be. Perhaps it’s just blinded by bliss.
“Come, let me make you breakfast.” He grips my waist and lifts me from his lap, but holds me close as he rises. His boxers hang low on his hips, and my thumbs automatically go to the band, dipping in and teasingly tugging them lower. His hands slide down my arms to my wrists so he can stop me.
“Jojo, if you keep that up, we’ll never eat. And I really think you need something for breakfast, after everything.” He brushes his nose against mine sweetly then smirks with one brow raised.
“Fine.” I pout, but my tummy is rumbling. And I can feel the sting of a buried headache deep in my temples. Some food and coffee would probably cure some of that.
Alex backs away from me, and I stand, wrapping the sheet around me completely as I reach for the T-shirt left sitting on the dresser’s top. Just before I grip it, Alex snags it and throws it over his shoulder.
“Hey.” I giggle.
“I laid that shirt out for you before you teased me this morning. Now, I think it’s better that you stay naked.” His eyes dance with want, and I feel it between my legs. I knew when I finally had Alex again that my heart would be full of love. I didn’t know how sexy he would make me feel. I didn’t know how addicted I would become to his touch and to feeling him inside of me. I didn’t know I’d be beholden to him so fast. I am, though—completely.
My lip rises on the right and I let go of my hold on the sheets enough that they slip down my body, uncovering my right breast, the nipple hard with desire.
“Goddamn,” Alex says, his tongue passing slowly over his bottom lip just before his teeth bite down.
Alex’s eyes drag from my naked chest up to my eyes, his dimples deepening as he walks backward and curls his finger, calling me to follow. I obey, letting the sheet go completely by the time we leave his bedroom. The air is cool, which only makes my nipples harden more, and I decide to keep them—all of me—in Alex’s view as he rounds the kitchen island and forces his attention to a pantry cabinet near the stove.
“You always loved pancakes, and that’s about the only thing I really know how to make.” He laughs at himself, but keeps his focus on the stove in front of him, tearing open the cardboard lid of the pancake mix he has clearly never used. I’m guessing pans are under the island, so I lift myself up to sit with my legs crossed, blocking his way into the doors. It only takes him a few seconds to turn and notice.
“Ah…seductress,” he says, breathing out a defeated laugh and giving in to temptation just a little as his palm finds my right knee and slides until it cups it completely.
“Am I…in your way?” My lips pucker with my smile, and my whole body throbs from the sweet torture.
“Not at all.” Alex’s eyes steady on mine and his chin lifts ever so slightly as the grip of his hand on my knee tightens. His hand moves to the inside of my thigh and he uncrosses my legs, and soon I feel the graze of his other hand on the inside of my opposite leg. His thumbs circle against my delicate skin for a few seconds, lulling me and making me wet, then Alex jerks my legs open wide and sneers at me, forcing me to gasp.
I pant twice, hard, my nipples reaching for him, my fingers curling against the counter, wanting to pull his cock out and guide it inside of me. Alex’s hands inch up my thighs until his thumbs tickle against the soft pink of my center. My head falls back, and I whimper. His touch is feather light, and completely still. One roll of my hips would press his fingers into me, but I can tell he wants to be in control of this, so I wait.
His thumb glides up my clit once, stopping just a thread away from the most sensitive and hungry spot, and more seconds pass. I squeeze my eyes closed and curl my toes in anticipation, and am rewarded with a flick of Alex’s tongue against the hard peak of my breast.
“Ahhh.” That small touch sends shivers through my body all the way to my swollen pussy, and Alex’s thumb circles my soft skin again, covering me with my own wetness as vibrations sear through my core.
“Alex, oh God!” My fingers splay on the counter and I slide back a few inches as my body shudders in response. His thumb presses into my clit, his force growing with each wave that passes through me until my knees lift from the uncontrollable convulsing. I come hard from this sexual torture, and I lie back flat on the counter, my smile wide with my own surprise.
“I just need in here,” Alex says, his wet fingertips grazing down my thighs and knees until I hear the sound of the cabinet door open beneath me.
Fucking hell. I’m out of breath, and my face is flushed. I didn’t know it was possible to orgasm so hard from just a simple touch. I want to spend days being satisfied like this. I want Alex to do it again, right now. I want him to fuck me then taste me, then cover me in himself. One night, and he’s turned me into a woman on fire.
“One pancake, or two?”
I don’t answer right away, stunned by the question, and I finally just laugh.
“Two!” I chuckle, pulling my knees up into my chest to squeeze away the lasting pressure deep inside. I rock myself up, and as I do, Alex looks over his shoulder and raises his lip again, this time in pride.
“We’re not done.” His eyes smolder, lowering to my still hard nipples, and just this look alone makes me nearly come again.
* * *
As promised, I remain naked through breakfast, and I think the only reason I was able to eat any pancake at all was because Alex insisted we go outside, to the porch and long-stretching deck. Something about being here—staring at our rock, our water and our past—makes it e
asier to wait. We’ve waited so long already.
I set my plate down ten minutes ago, and Alex took it inside soon after. I found my way to our rock while he was away, and I’ve been sitting here ever since while he watches me from the other end of the deck.
“There’s room for two over here, you know.” My hair falls over my shoulder as I turn to him, the waves blanketing one breast.
There’s also something about Alex’s expression that’s missing from earlier, though, and I can tell that no matter what I do to tempt him right now, he won’t be here with me completely. My Alex is battling internally with the tortured one who doesn’t feel worthy.
“All these years, we could always talk. It just wasn’t always the truth, but I think we’re past that now, don’t you? It’s time for honesty. It’s time for real, Alex, because we deserve that, don’t you think?”
I curl my legs in and square myself with him. A soft smile paints his face but fades as his eyes gloss with worry. Even from several feet away I can see the harsh swallow that strangles his throat.
“Tell me. Whatever it is. Whatever you think will happen, tell me. We can find a way to defeat it.”
My resolve is met by his weakness, and a soft laugh curls his mouth as his eyes close.
“You have no idea how bad it is, Jojo. And you are so beautiful, and I want you so much—love you so much—that I just took you. I took what I didn’t earn, because I’m a monster. Like all the Sinclairs. If you knew it all, Jo…if you knew…”
My stomach twitches nervously and my skin rushes with a numbness. I push it down, though, ignoring the instinct to run from this conversation. If we’re to be anything at all, we have to know everything. There is no room for secrets.
“So tell me, because I think I already do know,” I say, shifting enough to the side to make room for Alex next to me. He looks up and shakes his head, so I insist. “Don’t you dare be afraid now. We’ve been through too much. Come…tell me what you’re thinking.”
