Forcing a deep breath, she looked at her mother as she went up the steps. “What are you doing here, Mom?”
“Uma, love.” Uma let her mother hug her, but when Joey made to move, her hand went up. There would be no touching from him. Ever again.
“We stopped by to celebrate.” Joey held up a massive bottle.
“I’ll pass, thanks.” She met his gaze when she spoke, forced herself to be strong, but kept her eyes moving. She wouldn’t trust him for a second.
“Why don’t you invite us in? It’s real French Champagne—your favorite. Perfectly chilled.”
“No.” Fucking champagne. Always with the white wine and the champagne. Lady drinks. He’d never stopped grooming her to be a lady. Well, forget it. She was no lady, goddamn it.
She’d take moonshine over champagne any day.
She turned to her mother, her attention still focused on Joey. “When did you get back?”
“I flew into Dulles a couple of days ago, and I’m just barely over the jet lag. Such a crazy trip. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is? Delhi to Paris is fine. All the Hindis are so respectful, quiet. And the vegan menu’s wonderful, but my goodness, the Paris to DC flight was just a mess. I—”
“What brings you back to the States?”
She blinked. “You, of course, sweetie! You! How could you—”
“I take it Joey called and asked you to come get me.”
“He said you’d disappeared off the face of the earth, but he thought you might be close. He traced your phone to central Virginia. He was worr—”
“I’m fine, Mom. I’m fine now. You can go back to the ashram.”
Her mom’s eyebrows pulled down into that little-girl frown she did when puzzled. “I came all this way to see you!”
There were two ways of dealing with this: the easy way would be to thank her and pretend to want this.
Or she could tell her the truth, once and for all.
“I needed you six months ago, Mom. I told you that. I needed you and I asked for help and you didn’t come.”
“Well, I’m here now! We can—”
“No, we can’t. You can go back to India, or you can stay in the States, but we are not doing anything. You’re about five and a half months too late for that, Mother.”
Mouth open, mouth shut, mouth open… It was strange to see her mom sputter. Strange and empowering.
“I need to talk to Joey now. You’re welcome to listen, but you might not like what you’re about to hear. You can stay or go. Your choice.”
“I’m staying right here. With my baby girl.” Even if you don’t appreciate me, her look said. Whatever.
Uma turned to Joey, and it was obvious he was ready. Oh, the man liked a good challenge. She’d seen that side of him in the courtroom.
God, his eyes were blue. So transparent in the fading light that you’d think you could see him inside out. Only that was one of his tricks: looking guileless while keeping his sadism under wraps. It reminded her of Ted Bundy, the handsome serial killer who’d pulled people in so easily only to cut them limb from limb.
“I called to tell you to let me go,” Uma said, enunciating each word as if he were half-deaf.
“We could have discussed this at home, honey.”
“Really? Because I remember the last time we discussed something in your home, and that’s not an experience I’d like to repeat. Ever.”
“I’m sorry about that, Umami sweetie.” She hated that stupid nickname. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“Are you?”
He leaned in, giving her the full intensity of his eyes “I regret the way we ended. I’m sorry you left me.”
“Oh, that. Right. Do you regret doing this?” She ripped up one sleeve, then the other, and shoved her arms in his face, barely registering her mother’s shocked gasp, and continued, choosing her words with care. “Do you regret forcing me down and marking me against my will, Joey? What about when you put the gun to my head and threatened to end me? You regret that? Do you?”
He didn’t spare her arms a glance, and she realized he couldn’t. He’d have to admit to what he’d done then, wouldn’t he? Maybe he’d see her as damaged goods now. Honestly, that wouldn’t be so bad.
“Look at me, Joey. Right now. Admit what you did.” She leaned in, hand fisted white, arm pressed almost to his nose, lines standing out in stark relief to her white skin.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Umami doll.” He didn’t look remotely sorry. He looked slightly irritated and embarrassed in a keep-your-voice-down kind of way. “You just…you were really harsh, you know? You went kind of crazy. And the things you were saying? I couldn’t get you to understand.” Joey leaned in to whisper, as if no one else could hear. “Why couldn’t you just listen to me?”
“What do you want now, Joey? You’ve got half the cops in the state after me. My phone’s being monitored.” She made a big show of the phone held tight in her hand. “I can’t access my bank account or use my credit card without raising red flags. What you’re doing can’t possibly be legal. Why are you harassing me like this?”
He swallowed, and the tightness around his mouth showed how irritated he was at her outburst. Clearly, this wasn’t going the way he’d envisioned it. Well, tough shit, because this was Uma’s show.
“You need to come home now. I get it. You’re upset about the”—Joey waved at her arm—“misunderstanding, but…” He leaned in close, and she got a waft of those tiny mints he bought by the case. She nearly gagged when he stage-whispered, “You. Punched. Me.” Each word came out harsh, punctuated by shallow breaths and a light shower of spittle. “You tricked me, tied me up, left me there, Uma. For the cleaning lady to find! How could you do that to me? Did you honestly think I’d let you go after that?”
Her mother shifted where she stood and opened her mouth to talk. Uma interrupted her.
“I tricked you?” She was loud now, and he hated that. He hated vulgarity. “You, Joseph Chisholm, handcuffed me for seventeen hours, beat me, and marked me. Against my will. You wrecked my skin with your insane chicken scratch, and…you…”
This was the hard part. The part she’d never said to anyone. This was the bit she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get out. But she did. She said it.
Uma swallowed hard, closed her eyes, remembered the feel of Ivan’s lips against her skin, and found the courage. “You raped me, Joey. On the living room floor. You pushed my face into the carpet while I tried to scream at you to stop.” Oh man, the tears were coming. Rolling down her cheeks in streams. And although she’d said everything quietly, the intensity in her voice had to have carried halfway across the state.
On a sob, her mother pushed away from Joey.
“Do you remember that part, Joey? Huh? Do you? I tried to say no, but how could I with my underwear stuffed in my mouth?”
Joey’s lips opened, then closed into a hard, thin line.
“You know what cracks me up right now, though, after everything?” She pushed a laugh into her voice, watching as the rage suffused his perfectly formed features. He was mad, really pissed. And that was what she wanted from him. Experience had told her that when Joey was angry, he did stupid, stupid things. “You thought I wanted you back today? Remember? Look how you came running when I called! My God, how stupid can you be?”
“You dumb bitch! Of course you said no that night. But you didn’t mean it. You always liked it rough.” He grasped her arm, hard, and twisted, so the phone fell to the porch with a thud, and she saw the outline of a gun sticking out of his pants. “You’re mine, remember? See this one?” He pointed at a tattoo halfway up her arm. “This one took the longest, right? Remember that, sweetie pie? JOEY'S BITCH, it says. And you loved it. Every second of it. The sex that night? You fucking wanted it so bad. You could say no all you wanted, but really, you were dying for me to stick it in you.
”
From somewhere close by came the sound of an engine. The police. It had to be. “You liked hearing me scream, didn’t you, Joey?”
He yanked her against him and slammed her against the wood of the door, thumping her head hard.
“D’you miss me, Umami? God, I missed you.” His breath was hot and vile against the side of her face. One hand moved to her breast and squeezed. “I missed this.”
“Joey. You need to let me go. Now.”
“Oh no, honey. Seven months I’ve been looking for you, waiting for you to pop up someplace. No way I’m letting go now.”
He squeezed harder and moved in for a kiss. Before she could think about what she was doing, Uma reared back and let her fist fly, punching him hard in the nose.
Stunned silence. The calm before the storm.
Joey went at her, hands tearing at her hair, her clothes. Reaching for his gun, he leveled it at Uma, and without even knowing quite how she did it, she moved, her body led by instinct and memory and an intense desire to live. It was that pattern she’d worked and reworked in self-defense class, just days before. She’d practiced it on Ivan, and apparently, it worked. Without thought, her arms swung up and out, the momentum powering her knee into Joey’s crotch. His weapon went skidding to the floor, and he was left panting and clutching himself in soundless agony.
* * *
When Ive spotted the bright-red Audi parked in front of Ms. Lloyd’s place, his vision went dark for a second or two. And then he saw them. The man on the floor of the porch, Uma above him. He had a brief moment of pride before Joey attacked again. He was up and on her, and the other woman, whoever she was, did nothing but scream while Joey tackled Uma to the ground, swinging wild, ugly punches.
Oh fuck no.
Everything happened fast after that. He roared up—more on the lawn than not—and barely got it into Park before throwing himself out of the truck and into the fray. They were caught in the glow of his headlights, that fucker not even noticing Ive until it was too late.
And when he got his hands on him, what a relief. It was easy, with the fucker on top of Uma. He just grabbed him and threw. Down the porch steps, where the guy landed with a thud. But it wasn’t enough.
He’d kill him. It was too late now. He really would kill him. He barely registered the shrill keening of that stranger’s voice or the shriek of a siren not too far off or the metallic cachunk of a rifle, but as he moved to finish the job, his head turned in time to catch the door swinging open to reveal Ms. Lloyd, looking like some deranged Robert Rodriguez heroine, shotgun pumped and looking for a target.
“Don’t do it, son,” she said, barrel leveled straight down at Joey Chisholm but eyes on Ive. “Uma was right. Bastard ain’t worth it.” And although it took him a few seconds for the red to fade from his vision, when Ive’s eyes landed on Uma, her inked-up arms bared to the world, he decided she might be right.
The cops arrived, the sheriff leading the charge, but Ive didn’t pay a bit of attention. What mattered was that Uma was safe and whole and fucking strong. She handed her phone off to Steve and headed straight for Ive. He’d seen the way she’d taken that fucker down, and he was proud of her. His woman. He moved to pull her into his arms, but her outstretched hand held him off.
“Where have you been?” she asked, out of breath and hissing mad. Her pupils wide in her pale face.
He stilled, understanding the importance of this moment. “I had some thinkin’ to do.”
“Were you going to hurt him?”
Fuck. He couldn’t lie to her. “No. I was gonna kill him.”
“I told you I didn’t want that.”
“I know.”
“But you left anyway.”
“I left, but—”
Her hand came up again, and this time, she looked more than pissed. Cold.
“I had to call him to save your ass from getting into trouble.”
“You didn’t have to do that, baby. I was com—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She stepped into his body, leaned up, and whispered close to his ear, “You promised, Ivan. You swore to me.” She looked at him, hard, and at the hippy woman on the porch. “Ivan, Mother. I need some space and some time to think right now. Come on, Cookie. Let’s talk to the cops.”
With that, she bent to scoop up the cell phone and walked to meet the sheriff.
27
When Uma woke up, she could hear him hammering away. Only it wasn’t just a sound or a rhythm; it was everything she had left of him. She closed her eyes, imagining his capable hands in her hair, his eyes devouring her body and—as she had every day in the week since everything blew apart—she got up, in nothing but a tank top and underwear, and sat by the window to listen. Each clang of his hammer was a punch to her stomach. To her heart. And though he’d come by a few times, had even thrown pebbles at her damn window one night, she couldn’t do it. How could she ever trust him again?
Even with the leaves mostly off the trees, she couldn’t see Ivan’s workshop past the bend in the drive. And she’d tried.
From down the hall came the sound of Cookie getting up, her slow steps a little lighter for all the excitement. God, the woman was so happy about everything that had happened. Joey in jail, her mom making an effort—at least what felt like one. Jessie visiting in the evenings, her adorable son in tow. Cookie was in heaven with all the company.
So, why aren’t I happy?
Stupid question.
When Cookie’s wailing got too strident to ignore, Uma opened her door, still half-naked, and called down the hall, “Hold your horses, Cookie. I’ll be right there.”
“’Bout time. What is it I pay you the big bucks for, again?”
“Yeah, right.” Uma smiled. She had access to her money again and didn’t need Cookie anymore, but she wasn’t ready to go. Soon, but not yet.
That evening, Jessie came to the house alone with beers in tow. The women sat out on the back steps, drinking together and watching the sunset.
“When’s your next treatment?”
“Couple days.”
“What’s it like?”
“Hurts like crazy.”
“Worse than getting ’em?”
“It’s relative, I guess. Yes? No, because…” Uma’s voice trailed off as she pressed her wrist to her face. MINE, it said. And it was.
“So, when’re you moving out of this place?”
Uma shrugged, not quite willing to look at the other woman.
“Oh man. I can see it already. You and Cookie, old as the hills, deaf and blind, yelling at each other as always.”
They shared a smile at the image and tilted their beers back to their mouths.
After a breath and a pause, Jessie asked, “So, you talked to him yet?”
Uma didn’t need to see where Jessie was looking to know whom she meant. “No.”
“You should.”
“I plan to. I needed time to think.”
“You done?”
“Pretty much.”
“What d’you come up with?”
“I’m crazy about your brother. I just can’t be with another man who makes decisions for me.”
“Oh, girl, I get that. Trust me. But you know what happened with him, right?”
Uma raised her brows and looked at Jessie while she took another deep slug of the beer. Geez, she’d downed it fast. Yeah, well, she had an excuse.
“He came back.”
“Okay.”
“No, I mean, he decided not to do it. Before you called Joey. Before any of it. He realized that what you wanted meant more to him than some kind of macho reprisal. So he came back.”
Something loosened in Uma’s chest, something she hadn’t even realized was tight. “What the hell took him so long?” she asked, sounding angrier than she’d intended.
“Wow” was the only word Uma could get out past the rushing in her ears.
“Yeah. So he wasn’t thrilled.”
“I can imagine.” Suddenly, she needed a second beer. She grabbed it with one sweaty hand and twisted off the cap, took a sip, and pressed it to her face. “What’s he up to over there? Spending a lot of time in the big house.”
“What do you think?” A quick look at Jessie showed the woman’s eyes focused on her, all humor gone. The expectation there was dizzying. “He’s gettin’ his place ready.”
“For wh—” Realization hit Uma like a sledgehammer. “For me?”
“Now don’t go running over there all pissed off that he’s taking your ability to choose away and all that crap, ’cause he’s not. He’s giving you a choice. Another option.”
For the first time in days, Uma felt the first tiny stirrings of hope and excitement. Of something to look forward to.
In the distance, Ivan went out to his truck for about the fiftieth time and grabbed something from the back. It looked like a rug, rolled up. As he turned back to the house, he caught sight of them and raised his head in greeting. He paused for a second, and she could feel the yearning from here. When she was about to lift a hand to wave back, he turned and slowly carried his load up to the house.
“So, what’s happening with Joey?” Jessie’s question drew her back to their conversation.
“Aggravated assault. And rape.”
“Good.” Jessie sputtered, “I mean, not good, but I’m glad they got what they needed to take that bastard to court.”
“Don’t worry.” Uma shoulder-bumped her. “I know what you meant.”
Under Her Skin Page 27
