Turn (Gentry Generations)

by Cora Brent

Buy holy shit, it would have felt good.

  I had resumed walking while lost in thoughts of Curtis. Two girls were walking in the opposite direction and one bumped my shoulder, glaring at me as if it was my fault.

  Wait, had it been my fault? I’d wandered over to the opposite side of the sidewalk somehow. A wave of dizziness forced me to clutch a nearby pole. I’d reached a corner and vehicle headlights swam in front of me. I looked up, saw the pole was attached to a street sign and remembered my car was here, on this street. It would be waiting for me in a small parking lot just a few yards away.

  I let go of the pole and started walking to my car.

  “You idiot,” I grumbled, really mad at myself now for drinking any of that rum and whatever concoction. I couldn’t drive like this. I didn’t want to call a car service and have some stranger pick me up when I was drunk. I’d call Cami. But first I wanted to sit down. I wanted to sit down inside my car and then I’d call Cami. And if Cami didn’t answer I’d think of someone else. Curtis maybe. If only I had his phone number.

  “Cassie, are you okay?”

  An arm was around me, a concerned voice in my ear, a familiar one. Parker.

  “Fine,” I muttered and I really was fine. I just couldn’t quite get my legs to walk a straight path right now.

  He laughed. “Damn, I guess that drink went right to your head.”

  The comment annoyed me. He annoyed me. I hadn’t wanted his stupid drink in the first place. He ordered it, he kept urging me to drink it. This seemed important but I didn’t know why.

  “Just gonna call my sister,” I said, fumbling with my phone. The colorful icons on the screen had shrunk it seemed. They didn’t want to do what they were supposed to do.

  Parker gently took my phone way. “Look, my car’s right here. Let me take you home. I can’t leave you out here like this.” He put an arm around my shoulder. “You need to go home.”

  Yes, I did need to go home. I needed to go home and I surely couldn’t get behind the wheel, not like this. And it was kind of cool of Parker to offer to get me home safely.

  Parker was helping me into his car when I lurched away and vomited on the ground. Not a lot, and I avoided getting any on his car. I stared down at the puddle of brown liquid beside the front bumper.

  “Sorry,” I gasped, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I still felt crappy but it seemed like my head cleared, just a little. I was now crouched in front of Parker’s car. I remembered this car from the night Parker stayed with me in the college parking lot while we waited for Uncle Conway and his tow truck to arrive. I didn’t recall noticing then that there was a decorative license plate in the front. The logo was giant red N and across it in white lettering was the word Huskers. My dad was a fan of college football and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew the autumn Saturday games he watched had something to do with the license plate on Parker’s car. I just couldn’t quite connect the dots.

  “You’ll be okay, Cassie,” Parker said, helping me stand upright and guiding me to the comfortable passenger seat. “I’ve got you.”

  I leaned into the seat and closed my eyes as I felt the car begin to move. I inhaled the scent of the leather seats and hoped I wouldn’t puke on them.

  “Do you know where to go?” I asked Parker. The car had stopped and I opened my eyes to see we were just at a red light. Parker was staring straight ahead, one hand on the steering wheel tapping along to the radio music.

  I recited my street address and Parker stopped tapping.

  The look he gave me was rather odd and lasted for more than a beat. I had the impression that he was making a calculation, an assessment.

  “You know how to get there, right?” I asked.

  He nodded and turned his attention back to the road as the light turned green. “I’ll get you there,” he said.

  I stared out the window as the familiar streets rolled by. We weren’t far from my house. I hated to think what my parents would say when I stumbled in smelling like vomit with the news I’d left my car parked on a side street a few blocks from ASU. Maybe they wouldn’t be awake and I could just ask Curtis to help me retrieve my car before it got towed away in the morning.

  It was again becoming difficult to keep my eyes open. I still felt strange. As if I was being detached from the world one second at a time with nothing but a watercolor unreality left in its place.

  I pinched my own thigh. I opened my eyes wide and willed my mind to turn back from the fuzzy cavern it was entering. My eyes closed anyway.

  “We’re here,” said Parker’s voice and I knew the car had stopped but I couldn’t quite convince my limbs to move. My eyelids fluttered and saw the friendly lights of my front porch. Then they closed again and I felt myself sliding because it was the only thing I could do, slide against the nearest solid surface.

  “Cassie?”

  “Hmm?” I slid down further.

  “Are you awake?”

  Parker had asked me a question but answering was too much trouble.

  Then we were moving again, slowly, and it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, to just drift and float. The car had stopped once more and I heard my name being spoken but I didn’t want to talk. Nothing mattered because I was comfortable. I was falling back and back some more, probably stretching out on my bed at home. I could sleep now.

  Except I couldn’t sleep because there were hands on me.

  Hands pushing my shirt up, snaking beneath my bra, a thick breathing in my ear, a voice whispering, “Fuck, you’re hot,” and it wasn’t okay. None of this was okay. A vital part of my mind snapped like a rubber band and I opened my eyes to see Parker Neely was leaning across the seat, which had somehow been moved to a reclining position. The hands on my body belonged to him and they weren’t welcome there. Everything crystallized in one terrible second and I knew I needed to grasp it and hold on.

  “No!” The word was meant to be a scream but was more like a hoarse whisper. “NONONO!”

  My fingers reached out and fumbled with the door handle, clawing to get out while Parker said my name in a confused, almost hurt way. But he’d always been a liar. He still was. I knew that now.

  “I ordered you something I know you’ll like. Hardly has any alcohol in it, I swear.”

  The door opened and hot summer air hit me in the face. I leaned out of the car, my purse falling to the pavement. I stuck my fingers in my throat and gagged. I had to get it all out, whatever he’d given me. His hand was on my arm, trying to pull me back into the car even as I retched and a layer of bilious liquid surged out of my stomach and onto the ground.

  “Cassie, let me help you,” Parker begged with his two-faced concern and I wanted suddenly, desperately, to kill him. I kicked blindly, in the process falling out of the car completely and to the concrete. That was okay, that was good. My knee landed in my own vomit puddle but I was all right because I was out of the car now, crawling backwards, away from him, away from the guy who had handed me that drink.

  “Trust me, trust me…”

  “What did you put in it?” I tried to shout but the words were only a soft whimper.

  “Cassie.” He’d bolted from the driver’s side now. “Cassie, stop. I said I’ll help you.”

  “WHAT DID YOU PUT IN MY DRINK?” I screamed.

  Things were still wavy and vague; the scrape of my skin against the concrete as I clumsily skidded away, the sight of the park swings moving gently in the hot wind. I recognized this place. We were at a park just down the street from my house. I’d played on those swings as a child. Then I focused on the sight of Parker Neely’s face where the expressions of guilt and anger warred with one another and yet were utterly unmistakable.

  “CASSIE!”

  That was another voice, not Parker’s voice, and there was another face, not Parker’s face, but the one I had been wishing for. The arms lifting me now would never hurt me. I clutched at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and letting out a low moan of relief because it was a miracle that
he was here and because I knew with absolute conviction that this man wasn’t like the other one. None of the awful things he’d told me about himself mattered. I knew him. I understood him.

  This was the man I could trust.

  “Curtis,” I whispered with gratitude and sank against the safety of his body.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The son of a bitch tried to get away.

  He ran for his car and tripped on a rock, performing a belly flop on the pavement and it would have been fucking comical if I hadn’t been on the verge of murdering him.

  When I reached the park and saw Cassie on the ground, desperately crawling away from this motherfucker, my only panicked thought was to get to her. I scooped her up off the ground and felt her immediately cling to me like a lifeline while she said my name. She was emotional and glassy-eyed and she smelled like vomit but I didn’t see any physical injuries.

  But the bastard who’d been chasing her was about to be introduced to a whole new world of physical injury. Cassie was still holding onto me but I had to set her down because I saw he was trying to make a break for it.

  The fucker was still scrambling to pick himself back up after his fall when I grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. He struggled and flailed around as I slammed him against the hood of his car but it was easy because he didn’t know shit about how to fight. No, all he knew how to do was attack women in the darkness. It probably made him feel like a fucking man.

  I yanked him upright because I wanted to look into his eyes and let him know that he had every reason to be terrified.

  “I remember you,” I growled. “And you need to fucking understand that no matter where you go I’ll be able to find you.” I leaned into his face, practically able to smell the sick fear as I held him in place. “You will NEVER come near her again. If I hear that you’ve even breathed in Cassie’s direction I will take you apart piece by fucking agonizing piece and asshole, you’d better believe I know exactly how to do it. And in case you’re wondering, there’s no expiration date on this promise. Not ever.”

  It felt incomplete, not making him bleed the way I wanted to. In the not too distant past I wouldn’t have hesitated. Only the fear of leaving the boys alone while I served a prison sentence made me pause. Yet I still meant what I said. He’d find out real fucking quickly if he bothered Cassie again.

  “I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered. “Was just helping her-“

  “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

  “And give me my damn phone back!” Cassie was right there now, swaying a little bit on her feet but standing her ground as she glowered at him.

  The guy started fishing around in the pockets of his designer slacks and I noticed with some satisfaction that there was a nice wet patch in the crotch. He’d pissed himself, the worthless little shit had pissed himself.

  His hands were trembling when he pulled the pink sparkly phone from his pocket and I snatched it out of his hand. Then I released him because if I didn’t do that now then I might keep punching until he couldn’t stand up.

  “Now get the fuck out of here before I decide you need a few bones broken to remember my words.”

  The creep practically dove into his luxury sedan and peeled out.

  I turned to Cassie and held her phone out but she was shaking now, shaking and crying. She sat right down on the ground and that’s when I noticed her shirt. It was all bunched up, exposing her belly. A feeling of sick grief washed over me and I sank down to the ground at her side.

  “Did he hurt you?” I asked, barely able to deal with the possibility of her answer. “If he hurt you I’ll go find him right now and make sure he won’t be walking around tomorrow.”

  She shook her head and drew her knees to her chest. “No, I got out of there before he could…”

  Her face crumpled and she lowered her head with a sob and my heart just about broke.

  Then Cassie wiped her tears with the back of her hand and glared angrily at where the silver car had been parked. “He drugged me or something, Curtis. I don’t know with what. He bought me a drink and when I came back from the restroom he kept urging me to drink it, saying it hardly had any alcohol and that it tasted sweet.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

  “No, you’re not stupid. He’s just evil.” I cleared my throat. “Who is he, Cassie? I recognize him as being the guy who showed up at Scratch. But who is he to you?”

  She looked at me. “I’m almost too ashamed to tell you.”

  I touched her arm. “Don’t be. You can tell me anything. I’ll never think less of you.”

  She leaned against me. “Okay, I’ll tell you. But I’m still kind of out of it right now.”

  “Are you dizzy?”

  “Not a much as I was.”

  “Do you feel like you’re going to pass out?”

  “No, not anymore. I’m just real shaky. I puked outside the bar and then again over there so maybe I got most of whatever it was out of my system.”

  My brain was in overdrive. It was likely he did slip a drug into her drink. She didn’t believe she’d ingested much and what she had swallowed had mostly been puked up.

  “Maybe,” I said. “But you should really go to the hospital.”

  “What?” Her eyes got wide. “No, I’m not going to the hospital.”

  “Whatever drug he gave you will still be in your blood.”

  Cassie shook her head. “No! My folks. I don’t want them to hear about this. They’ll be devastated.”

  “They’ll want that motherfucker to get nailed to the wall,” I said, realizing my voice was rising in anger.

  Cassie looked away. I wanted to kick myself. I didn’t know how she felt, what she’d been through tonight. I had no right to make demands over how she handled this. Whatever she wanted to do, whatever would make her feel safe, was what needed to happen now.

  “I’m sorry, Cassie, I’m a dick. Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you.”

  She put a hand to her mouth. “I’d give a lot for a drink of water right now.”

  Her house was just down the street. Yet we both knew that there was a good chance she might run into one of her parents and she was still obviously so upset and traumatized they would have been alarmed. And I also couldn’t leave her here, not even for a minute to dash back to the house.

  “You think if I help you walk you can make it two blocks to the gas station on the corner at Baseline Road? You could get some water, clean up in the restroom, maybe try to eat something light if your stomach can handle it.”

  She thought about it and then nodded. I was trying to guess what that fucker had given her. It could be anything. She was more lucid every second so she must have thrown up enough of it before the effects penetrated completely. If he’d given her something real hardcore she would have been totally unconscious in minutes, completely vulnerable to whatever kind of disgusting things he had in mind. The idea made me feel murderous again but I wouldn’t tell her that. Cassie needed protection right now, not violence.

  I helped her up, wondering if it would be easier to just carry her but she leaned into me and let me support her with one arm around her waist.

  “Wait, my purse,” she said, pointing to a pink handbag that was lying sadly on the concrete. I scooped it up for her and set it on my own shoulder.

  “This is a good look for me,” I said as the thing bounced against my hip. “What do you think?”

  She managed a snort of laughter and I tightened my arm around her waist. We made slow progress but after about fifteen minutes we reached the gas station with my arm still around her waist as she did her best to walk a straight path. To anyone watching, Cassie just looked like a girl who probably had one too many drinks tonight. No one would be able to guess what had nearly happened to her.

  I tensed up a little when we reached the doors of the little store attached to the gas station. Every once in a while when I found myself in a place like this after dark I’d get hit with the memory of my
dad’s murder. He’d walked through glass doors just like this, expecting to walk out five minutes later with the pack of cigarettes he’d left the house for. He exited the doors in a body bag.

  “This goes better with your outfit,” I said to Cassie, giving up custody of the pink handbag when we were standing outside the door to the restroom.

  “I’ll be out soon,” she promised.

  “Take your time,” I said, making myself comfortable by leaning against the wall right across from the bathroom door. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

  The gas station attendant was a beefy guy in his forties and it was a little awkward standing outside the ladies’ room while he glared at me with suspicion but I’d told Cassie this was where I’d be so I wasn’t moving.

  When she emerged ten minutes later she looked much better. Her face was pale but she walked steadier and she smiled when she saw me.

  “I think I smell a little less like vomit now,” she said.

  “I’m grateful,” I replied and she laughed.

  I selected a few bottles of water and some soda crackers and set it all on the counter in front of the attendant, who treated me less suspiciously now that I was going to pay for something.

  “I’ll take one of those, too,” Cassie said, pointing to the hot food counter where churros and hot dogs baked side by side beneath the heat lamp.

  “The burrito?” the cashier asked and Cassie nodded.

  “I doubt your stomach will thank you for a burrito right now,” I said and Cassie raised an eyebrow.

  “I might be a slightly better judge of the condition of my stomach,” she said and I was glad she felt okay enough to make a sarcastic crack.

  “Two burritos then,” I told the guy and he wrapped them both in brown paper sleeves before handing over all the purchases in a plastic bag.

  When we were outside I exhaled loudly and Cassie noticed.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Bad memories, that’s all.”

  She was curious. “Of what?”

  “My dad was shot to death in a gas station convenience store, kind of like this one. He was in the wrong place, wrong time. Walked into an armed robbery. Sometimes it just hits me, that’s all.”