Kept by the Beast

by Sasha Gold

  His words echo in my mind throughout the day. While I’m in class, I pay attention, but later, I can’t stop thinking about how Wes thinks we don’t get along. Why would he think that? Is it obvious or did Trig tell him he doesn’t care for me? When I imagine Trig saying that to Wes, it feels like my heart is being hollowed out with an melon-baller. It’s agony and I hold my chest until the pain fades.

  Michael has a baseball game in the early evening, after the last class gets out, and instead of going home for dinner I head to the ball park. I’m late because Professor Corrigan likes to hear herself talk and class goes way over, but I manage to get to the game half-way through the first inning. I’m starving because I missed lunch. All I have is a bag of sunflower seeds, but it will have to do.

  A few hardy souls sit in the bleachers, braving the February winds. Baseball in the winter seems wrong to me, but Michael’s select team plays year-round. Yay.

  The whole family is here, including Jane’s sister, Gwen. She’s a slightly more portly version of Jane and lives in Houston with her husband. Both are lawyers. No children. Gwen can hardly tear her eyes from the game. Like Jane and Wes, she’s into baseball.

  Trig leans against a post and yells encouragement to our team. We’re up to bat and Trig talks to each boy, telling them to wait for a good one. One of the twerps gets a base hit and everyone goes nuts. Even the other little monkeys, Thomas, Seth and Jimmy whoop and holler. The next boy in the line-up approaches the base and Thomas rummages in my purse like he always does during games. He knows I have gum. I buy it just for them to have during a game.

  Trig strolls over to the bleachers and stands beside me. He’s just a little too close. “You were late.”

  “Don’t give her a bad time, Trig,” Jane says. “Her last class usually goes over. Corrigan’s a windbag.”

  The monkeys laugh. Thomas especially likes it, laughing the loudest, then he screws up his face and taps Jane on the shoulder. “What’s a windbag?”

  “Someone who likes to talk,” Gwen says. “Like your Uncle John.”

  The only one not laughing is Trig. He’s glaring at me. Since everyone else is watching the game, no one notices when he lifts his hand, and tugs the neck of my sweater down. His gaze fixes on the mark on my neck. My breath stalls as I wait for him to say something about last night. It’s not that I want to hear the words so much as see a sign that he remembers.

  The crack of the bat hitting a ball draws a cheer from the bleachers but Trig keeps his gaze fixed on me. “Where were you?”

  “Today?” I ask softly.

  “Yeah. Today.”

  “In school, Trig. You know I have class on Wednesdays.”

  He drops his hand and nods. “Okay…”

  I watch as ice collects in his gaze. A shiver rolls down my spine as it dawns on me that he doesn’t remember last night. Not one bit. I’ve replayed each moment a thousand times but he remembers nothing. Even worse, he thinks I’ve been with someone else. I’ve never had a hickey before and fuck if the first guy to give me one not only doesn’t remember, but thinks some other guy is responsible.

  “Do we need to talk?”

  I narrow my eyes. “About what?”

  “I don’t want anyone around you.”

  “There’s nobody,” I whisper. Except you.

  His words are loaded with meaning. I know he’s trying to say things without actually saying them. Another boy scores a hit. The other side boos and hollers about unfair calls. A boy tries for home but the catcher manages to tag him. The inning is over and our guys race out to play defense.

  Jane’s sister turns around and looks at me, and for a moment I wonder if she heard us. I’ve only met her a few times and we haven’t spoken much. Jane talks about her all the time and what a brilliant lawyer she is. I’ve always gotten the feeling she didn’t want Jane to take me in.

  She studies Trig and lifts her brow, then turns her attention back to me. “I wanted to congratulate you on your early admission to Stowe. It’s a good school.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t think you had it in you,” Gwen says matter-of-factly.

  “No one did.”

  “Wes and I did,” Jane says over her shoulder.

  Gwen’s lips curve into a smile that makes her look even more like Jane. “And your hair looks so pretty. You’re turning over a new leaf.”

  I shrug a shoulder, wishing she’d just go back to watching the game but she’s not done yet. She cuts a glance to Trig and then back to me.

  “I bet all the boys at Stowe are chasing you.”

  Jane snorts. “My girl isn’t allowed to date. I won’t let anyone take her from me.”

  The next inning begins and Jane yells encouragement to Michael, who’s pitching. “Easy out here, Michael. You got this. Easy out.”

  Their first batter strikes out as do the next two. Trig doesn’t move, watching the inning from my side. He stands just a little too close and I know he’s trying to make a point. He doesn’t want me but he doesn’t want anyone else to have me either.

  Trig’s a bully. He thinks he can mess around with anyone he wants and tell me what to do? Fuck that. I don’t work for him anymore so he can forget about bossing me around. About anything. Maybe I should ask him whose tits he imagined last night while he was pawing me.

  I ignore him and focus on Michael’s game. Between innings, I talk to the Thomas, Seth and Jimmy, sharing my bag of sunflower seeds with my favorite monkeys.

  Chapter Twenty

  Trig

  Over the next few weeks, I make a point of staying away from Maggie. I haven’t been over for dinner in a month. Jane’s called several times to check on me. I assure her I’m fine, just busy. The last time she called I asked about Maggie and even if she’s met anyone at school. Yes, she tells me. Maggie says she met someone but it was over before it started.

  I guess I don’t need to hunt the guy down, but the memory of the mark on her neck still makes me see red.

  Why and how that girl wormed her way into my thoughts, I can’t understand. She’s nothing like the women I’ve gone out with in the past. I prefer women my own age, sometimes even older. I like a woman who has a little experience. Now, instead of going out on Saturday nights, I stay home. It’s fucked up, I know that. I tell myself I don’t want Maggie, but I don’t want anyone else either. Now if I could just get her out of my head.

  My favorite way to clear my thoughts is either a Saturday night fist fight down at Duncan’s Bar or a round or three of rough sex. Brawling and fucking are the perfect combo, but I don’t feel like either these days. Instead I saddle up my horse, Tex, the gelding I’ve had for years.

  He’s a surly bastard and he’s not happy. When I swing into the saddle he tries to get his head down and pitch me off. It’s been months since I’ve ridden him and he likes to pretend he doesn’t know what a saddle is. After a few bucks, he settles down and we ride the fence line, checking for broken wire or downed posts. It takes a couple of hours to ride the perimeter of the two hundred acres.

  When I get back, Wes waits for me on the porch.

  “Tried to call you,” he says, following me to the barn.

  “I don’t take my phone when I’m on the horse. No reception in the pastures.”

  His lips thin and he shoves his hands in his pockets and leans against a support beam. I untack my horse and wait for him to tell me what’s on his mind. Wes might come to the garage every so often, but he rarely comes to my house. This is our grandparent’s house and coming out here reminds him of our parents and sister. He never says the words aloud, but I can see it in his eyes. Today there’s something more in his expression. Worry.

  I set the saddle on a rack and face him. “You going to tell me what’s on your mind or did you want to take one of the horses out for a ride?”

  Wes shakes his head. I can’t remember the last time he rode. Now he’s a family man he doesn’t have time to work the ranch. I know that, and I’m just pulling his
leg, but he doesn’t smile.

  “I need to borrow a little money.”

  He’s never asked me that before. “Sure. How much?”

  “Five grand.”

  The amount surprises me a little. I can lend him five grand. Hell, I’ll give him five grand. What bothers me is the way he won’t hold my gaze. He rubs the back of his neck and blows out a stream of air.

  “Five thousand’s no problem.” I lead Tex to the barn’s back door and put him the back pasture. He trots off to join the other horses.

  “I need it today. Now, actually.”

  I take off my chaps. “Is everyone okay?”

  “Oh sure. Fine. Fine.” He smiles, only it’s not his usual smile. It’s more like a grimace.

  “What the fuck’s going on?”

  He shrugs. “Nothing. I just need money.”

  My chest tightens. Wes is the world’s worst liar. Jane is the second worst. Something’s wrong and it’s got to be pretty bad if he won’t tell me.

  “I can’t tell you,” he blurts out. “I promised I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “Who?”

  He blinks. “What?”

  I’ve never hit my brother. Sure, we wrestled and sparred before, but I’ve never struck him in anger. The wave of fury that comes over me shocks me and I have to force myself to stay back from him.

  “Who did you promise?” I say, quietly.

  He frowns as he mulls my question, wondering if he can say the name without breaking the promise. A moment passes. I pull off my leather gloves and shove them into my pocket. If he doesn’t start talking, I’m going to have to convince him. I don’t like the notion, but that won’t make much difference.

  His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “Maggie made me promise.”

  I push back the dread, collecting inside me. “Is she sick? Hurt?”

  “No.”

  My worry eases, but only a little. Something’s happened to Maggie that they need five grand for, today, and I can tell it’s not good. It’s not something like tuition fees otherwise he’d tell me.

  “Is Maggie okay?” I manage.

  The color drains from Wes’s face and I swear it takes every bit of self-control to keep from throwing him against the wall. He’s a big guy, six-foot, but I’m six-five. He works at a desk and I work in a garage. I would never hurt him, but something’s happened to Maggie and I’m two seconds away from losing my shit.

  “Maggie got arrested last night.”

  The words float in my mind but I can’t really understand their meaning. Maggie? Arrested?

  “It wasn’t her fault. I’m sure of it.” Wes steps closer. “They say she shoplifted. Maggie would never steal.”

  “Shoplifted…?”

  He straightens and looks offended, like I accused him of shoplifting. “It’s just a misdemeanor and Gwen says we should be able to get deferred adjudication. If Maggie doesn’t have a record.”

  “Where is she now?” I’m praying Wes tells me she’s at home, but I can tell from his expression she’s somewhere else. Jail. That’s why he needs the money. For bail.

  “She’s being detained. Until I post bail. I would have done it first thing this morning but I don’t have the cash. Things have been a little tight lately. I had to write a check for her tuition because the Lion’s grant won’t come till March.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll give you the money.”

  He shakes his head and I can see how hard it is to ask for a loan. He’s about to argue, but I wave him off. “Let’s not talk about it. I’ve spent a night or two in that jail and I want her out of there. Now.”

  Returning to the house, I try not to think of her sitting in a jail cell. On a Saturday night. Shit, why didn’t they call me right away? Probably because Maggie made them promise right off the bat not to tell me. And what the hell did she lift? Wes doesn’t think Maggie’s a thief, but she’s stolen from me. When she ran away, she’d taken things from his house to fund her trip. She put them back, but the fact remains, she’s done it before.

  Despite the cold, a trickle of sweat rolls down my neck. God, I hope she’s okay. I stand in the quiet of my house and I picture her, alone and scared. Locked up. And in a single instant I’m certain this is a mistake. She may have stolen from me and Wes too, but whatever they’ve accused her of, she didn’t do. I’d stake my life on it.

  Grabbing my wallet, I take a moment to make sure I have my credit card. I have a twenty-thousand-dollar limit, so I can post Maggie’s bail a few times over. I tuck my check-book into my back pocket just in case, and a moment later, Wes and I are headed downtown to the county jail.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Maggie

  I’ve never been arrested before. Never.

  All night long, I’ve been sitting in this freezing cold cell, waiting for Wes and Jane. Calling them at one in the morning had to be one of the most mortifying experiences of my life. Aside from my mother, I’ve never had anyone care for me as they have. Trig’s done a lot for me too, if I’m honest with myself, but calling him was completely out of the question.

  Last night I went out with Kyle and one of his friends. Kyle guilt-tripped me into taking them out, saying there were some amazing parties the first weekend of Spring Break and we needed to go. I didn’t really want to hang with high school kids. I tried telling Kyle.

  So, his dipshit friend wants to go to a liquor store, says he’s legal. He wasn’t. His fake ID gets spotted right away, even before we go to the cash register. Then Einstein gets the brilliant idea to slip a bottle of vodka in my purse. I never noticed. The plainclothes policeman did. I got arrested. Kyle and his friend didn’t.

  And here I am, in the clink for Minor in Possession and Shoplifting.

  While I paced my small cell last night I kept thinking how this would affect my scholarship. Would I be innocent till proven guilty? What about video surveillance? Did they have film, showing I didn’t put the bottle in my purse.

  I just want to get out of here. The cell is about sixty degrees and I’m in a thin blouse and skirt. Throughout the night, as the hours passed, I imagined the worst. I pictured scenarios where the Kendals decide I was too much trouble and they’d let the state deal with me. Loneliness that I hadn’t felt in a long time wrapped around me like an icy shroud.

  They’d have that extra room to turn into a game room.

  Footsteps approach and a policewoman unlocks the door. “All right, Miss Callaghan. Your family’s posting bail.”

  “Bail?”

  She doesn’t elaborate. I follow her out and into the police station. Trig and Wes wait for me, standing at the counter. I can hardly look either of them in the eye.

  The policeman on the other side of the counter explains that I’ll be summoned to appear in court. I can expect a certified letter. The judge will tell me what charges, if any, will be pressed. The judge will also make a ruling about my immigration status.

  “Immigration status? But…I have a green card.”

  The officer shrugs. “For now.”

  Everybody watches me, or that’s what it feels like. Trig moves closer. He sets his hand on my shoulder.

  “Thank you, officer,” he says.

  The next thing I know, I’m whisked out of the police station. Trig keeps his hand on me, guiding me across the street to his truck. Dazed and bewildered, I huddle in the back seat and replay the policeman’s words. Trig drapes his jacket over me.

  We drive home in silence. Wes says nothing but Trig, driving the truck, glances back to me, his eyes searching mine. I can’t stand how Wes won’t give me a word of encouragement, but what’s worse is the sympathy in Trig’s eyes. I don’t want him to try and console me. It’s like both of them assume I’m guilty.

  When we get home, Jane meets me at the door. Her eyes are bloodshot.

  “I didn’t tell the boys.”

  “Great. Thanks.” There’s some consolation. I mostly worry about Michael finding out I was incarcerated. He seems to think I’m ca
pable and smart and maybe even sort of awesome. I really hate to disappoint him.

  Without another word, I go to the bathroom, strip the clothes I’ve worn since the evening before and step into the shower. The hot water scalds my skin. My intention was to rinse away the way the jail cell made me feel. Dirty. Unwanted. Shameful.

  After a long while, the hot water starts to cool because I’ve been in the shower so long, I’ve used up all the hot water. I step out, dry off and slather cream over my skin. Gwen brought me a jar of Grapefruit Infused Hydration. I’d held off opening it, but something about spending the night in jail makes girly things feel that much more wonderful. When I’m done, I wrap a robe around myself.

  I open the door and almost faint to see Trig standing in the doorway. He grips the door frame above me and the stance makes him look huge. He lets his gaze drift down and the corner of his mouth quirks.

  “The aquifer called,” he says. “It wants you to quit being a baby and get the fuck out of the shower.”

  He’s deliberately giving me shit. It helps. So much. Right now, I don’t want a lecture or some pep talk. I’m not sure what I want, but I don’t want Wes or Jane’s over the top optimism. I just need this. I step closer and rest my forehead against his chest. A rumble rolls across his chest as he gathers me in his arms. My mind goes back to the night when he pulled me to the bed and wrapped his arms around me.

  “All night, I worried about losing my scholarship,” I whisper.

  “I have money.”

  His voice rumbles in his chest. Closing my eyes, I push away the waves of shame and helplessness.

  “You keep bailing me out. Literally.”

  He strokes my back. Normally I hate sympathy, but not now. I lap up anything he offers even if I’ll hate myself later.

  “It’s just money. I don’t care about it. If I could have taken your place last night, I would have.”

  Well, isn’t that romantic.

  He goes on. “I want what you want and if you like school, then I’m going to do what I can to make it happen for you. I’ll pay your tuition. For you, I’ll always do whatever it takes.”