“Really?” The high-pitched sound of excitement from her lips makes my chest pound. “That would be awesome!”
“Great, let’s do it. We’ll figure out all the details tonight after you settle in.”
“The kids are going to shit, they’ll be so excited,” she mumbles to herself.
Drake laughs, low and shitty sounding. What the hell is his problem? “Look at you getting all domesticated.” He shoves me. “No more back in town for hanging with your boys and fucking bitches, huh?”
What the fuck? I’ve come back in town and hung at the bars with The Brotherhood, but fucking bitches? That’s never been me. Not that the occasional one-nighter didn’t sneak up on me, but it was rare. “Are you high?”
He ignores me, and I make a mental note to talk to Trix about this later. I know she wouldn’t care even if what Drake said was the truth—after all, she’s been honest about her past conquests—but I need her to know that it’s bullshit.
The rolling hills of San Jose fade into the distance as we approach the Santa Cruz Mountains with their towering redwoods and evergreens. With a few more instructions and forty minutes later, we pull up to an older homestead-style house in a remote area of Los Gatos. The home is tucked deep into the woods on a dirt road. Even though only a few miles from multi-million dollar homes, new developments, and middle class homes, it’s so hidden in the trees I wonder if the city even knows they’re still here.
“Is this it?” Drake says with a hint of disgust in his voice.
“Yep. Home sweet home.”
The second the last word is out of her mouth, the front door flies open, and kids pour out of the tiny home like circus clowns. Trix squeals with excitement and barrels out of the backseat. She runs, kicking up dirt with her flip-flops, and catches the fastest of her brothers and sisters as a little boy leaps into her arms.
“Dude, what the fuck . . .?” Drake whispers and I know he’s confused about the myriad of ethnicities and ages of all the children now piled around Trix.
“Big family. Stay in here.” I push out of the car just as an older man steps out of the door.
He’s bigger than I expected, full beard and overgrown hair, but dressed well in a long-sleeved collared shirt tucked into jeans. That must be Pastor Langley, Trix’s Dad. A small, thin woman with short dark hair pushes past the man and races toward the kids’ squealing, and it doesn’t take a genius to realize it’s Trix’s Mom.
I’m transfixed on this family reunion. Hell, I don’t even remember the last time I hugged my mom. Trix closes her eyes as her mom kisses every inch of her face. It isn’t until I feel the prickle of being watched that I peek up to find a set of dark brown eyes on me.
Trix’s dad looks curious as he moves off the front porch towards his family. His daughter breaks away from her siblings and meets her dad with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. They say a few words to each other then look in my direction. I take my cue and head over to introduce myself.
My muscles are tense as I approach, uneasy about being the odd man out to this welcoming home.
Trix grabs my hand, her sunglasses up on her head, wide grin across her face, and if I weren’t so concerned about honoring her father’s wishes, I’d plant a mind-scrambling kiss against those lips.
“Dad, this is Mason, the guy I told you about.”
I reach out my hand to the older man. “Mr. Langley, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Please, call me Jerome.” He reaches forward, exposing a heavily tattooed forearm, and grips my hand in a firm shake. “It’s nice to meet you. I wish I could say I’ve heard so much about you, but I’ve only heard of you over the last couple days.”
“Sir, your daughter talks plenty of you, so I feel I’ve known you for a while now.”
His gaze moves between Trix and me. “Thank you for making sure she got home safely. I would’ve been happy to pick her up.”
“No need. We’re passing through to Santa Cruz anyway. I’m happy to do it.”
“Oh, this must be Mason.” The woman I assumed was Trix’s mother approaches, a warm and welcoming grin on her face. She wraps me in a hug. “I’m Aggie. It’s so nice to meet you. Will you be coming to the party on Sunday?”
“Yes, I’d planned on it. Thank you for the invite.”
“Whoa, Bee-ee-ah. He’s hu-u-mong-u-us!” A tiny little girl whose hair, eyes, and skin all seem to be the exact same shade of bronze, tugs Trix’s hand.
“Leah, honey,” Aggie whispers.
“You play football?” The tallest of the kids with thick black hair, light skin, and almond-shaped eyes joins the conversation.
“I did in high school, but not anymore.”
“Mason fights for the UFL.” Pride shines in her eyes as she looks up at her little brother. “Mason, this is my brother Isaac.” Trix looks around and continues. “My other brothers, Josiah, Zane, and Aaron.” She scoops up the squealing little girl and props her on a hip. “This little rug rat is Leah.” She rubs the head of a tiny Asian girl who is clinging to Trix’s leg, looking up at her big sister. “And finally, this is Zoe.” Her bright eyes flash back to me. “And, everyone, this is Mason.”
The little ones wave shyly, and the older ones stand back, studying me with speculative glances.
“It’s nice to meet you all.” The kids explode in a flurry of chatter, and Trix’s face lights with love for her siblings. I run my knuckles down her upper arm to get her attention. “I better take off.”
“Oh, yeah.” Her smile falls and she nods. “Guess so.”
I say good-bye to her family and move back to the car with Trix. With the trunk of the car open, no one can see us, and I lean in to place a small kiss to her forehead. “I’ll call you tonight.”
“I hate this.” Her eyebrows are pinched together. “We’ve spend the last three days together, and saying good-bye to you just feels wrong.”
I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “We have all day tomorrow at the beach. I can’t wait to see you in your bikini—”
“Dad wants me to help you with your bags.” Isaac’s there with his arms crossed at his chest.
Trix rolls her eyes and takes a step back to create distance between us.
“Sounds good, man.” I pull her bright pink suitcase from the trunk and set it down for Isaac. “See you guys tomorrow.”
“Bye.” She gives me a small, sad wave and heads toward the house with her brother, who I hear say, “What’s going on tomorrow?” a few seconds before he shouts, “Awesome!”
My chest is heavy when I watch the door close behind Trix and fold back into Drake’s car.
“Holy shit, bro. You’re buyin’ the cow too?”
This time I unleash all my frustration and knock the asshole in the chest. He doubles over the steering wheel, gasping.
“That’s your final warning.”
“Jeez, you didn’t have to knock the wind outta me, dick.”
“Talk about my woman again, and I’ll knock the fuckin’ life out of you.”
Not that I blame him for being surprised. As soon as the words come from my lips, I realize I’m telling the God’s honest truth.
Nineteen
Trix
The sun is dipping behind the Santa Cruz Mountains by the time we get the kitchen cleaned up after supper. Mom went all out for my homecoming, making a slow-cooked roast with all the trimmings. I can’t imagine how much the meal cost them, and they dished it out, helping after helping to all of us kids with leftovers to spare.
I shove a few more plastic containers of our dinner into the fridge and move to the back porch where my mom and dad are lounging on a swing. My mom’s eyes find mine and she grins. Even through her smile, I can tell she’s worn out. “You didn’t have to do that, Bea.” She scoots to put a spot between her and my dad.
I plop down between them, the three of us now crammed into the loveseat-sized swing. “I know, but you work too hard, Mama.”
“Taking care of my babies is never work.” A y
awn falls from her lips. “Sheesh, maybe I’m more tired than I thought.”
“Honey, why don’t you go to bed? Bea and I will put the little ones down.” My dad nods toward the outdated metal swing set and slide out in the yard. It’s more like a stretch of dirt fenced in by towering redwoods. Leah, Aaron, and Zoe are laughing and arguing as they play Marco Polo.
“Yeah, Mom”—I grab her hand and squeeze it—“go take a hot bath before they all start fighting over the bathroom before bedtime.”
“Oh, a hot bath does sound nice.” She flashes a tired smile. “We can catch up some more in the morning?”
I already updated the family at dinner, sharing with them about some of the kids at the Youth Club, my new roommate, and an update on Gia. I left out talking about my job, but I always do, and they don’t seem to mind.
“Sure, but there’s really nothing more to talk about.”
She hoists herself off the swing and drops a kiss to my forehead. “So you’re saying that handsome boy who dropped you off is nothing?”
“Aggie, don’t go snooping.” The low rumble of my dad’s chuckle makes my mom gape.
“I’m not snooping. I just want to learn more about a man who would travel all the way from Las Vegas to San Jose just to escort our daughter home.” She unties her apron that I’m sure she forgot she was wearing until now, and folds it up.
“He came home to see his family too, Mama. It’s no biggie.” The words sour in my mouth. It’s a huge biggie. I like Mason more than I should, and I’m pretty sure he feels the same. The thought makes my tummy tumble and my chest flutter.
“Bea, sweetheart”—my dad turns his dark brown eyes to me—“that boy is crazy about you.”
I blink up at my dad. “How do you know?”
He shrugs and turns out to watch the kids as they launch off the swings in a contest to see who can jump farthest. “Because he’d be stupid not to be. He doesn’t look stupid to me.”
My mom rolls her eyes. “I better grab that bath while I can. And Bea, I’m sorry you’re stuck on the bunk beds with Leah and Zoe. We moved Isaac into your and Lana’s old room.”
Sadness pierces my chest, but I push it back and focus on the kids, pretending that speaking her name in this place doesn’t bring me to my emotional knees. “No problem. I’m happy to stay with the girls.”
She leans down and kisses my head. “I’m so happy you’re home.”
“Good night—oh! I forgot, I thought I’d take everyone to the beach tomorrow, if that’s alright with you guys.”
My parents share a lingering glance.
“I thought you could use a quiet day at home.”
“Sure, honey. That would be great.” My mom heads back inside. “And tell Mason he’s welcome to come over for dinner after the beach.”
I whip around just in time to see her disappear behind the closed door. How did she know?
My dad chuckles, apparently reading my shock. “She’s an observant woman, Bea.” He scratches his bearded cheek. “The Good Lord has blessed her with discernment like I’ve never seen.”
“It’s freaky.”
He chuckles and throws an arm over my shoulder. “It can be.”
We swing in silence for a few minutes, and the sun dips further behind the mountains. The air cools slightly, and the scent of pine soothes me along with the gentle sway of the swing and the safety of my dad’s arm.
“So . . .”
I know that tone and exactly where it’s going. Steeling my resolve, I blow out a long breath, and the sense of what’s coming weighs heavy in the air.
“Vegas is treating you well?”
Not again. “It’s alright, Daddy.”
“You find a church over there yet?”
“You know I haven’t stepped inside a church since the funeral.”
“Hmm . . .” The squeak of the swing fills the silence and mimics a countdown.
In five . . . four . . . three . . .
I squeeze closed my eyes. Please don’t ask, please don’t ask—
“Still dancing . . .” Blastoff! “I assume?” There’s no judgment in his voice, but there’s the unmistakable twang of disappointment, which is worse.
I don’t answer and keep my eyes forward. I can’t tell him the reasons why I’m there. He’ll tell me that I’m wasting my time, that Svetlana’s killers can’t run forever and eventually they’ll have to face the ultimate judgment and that alone will be enough.
I disagree.
I want whoever tortured and mutilated my sister to spend the rest of their breathing days in prison before they get to spend an eternity in hell.
But that’s me. I’m not nearly as forgiving as my dad.
“Beatriks . . . no one can worship both God and money.” He quotes the Bible in such an everyday way that proves he really lives by the word.
“I don’t do it for the money.” I do it for Svetlana.
He groans and squeezes me tighter in a way that feels like reassurance or possibly worry. “The Bible says our body is a temple for The Holy Spirit—”
“I know that, Dad.” The words come out harsher than I intend, but the fact that he insists on repeating things we’ve been over a hundred times is infuriating. Not to mention, he’s absolutely right. I focus on steady breathing and hope my voice doesn’t shake. “It’s just a job.”
“To you, it’s just a job. But there are men you dance for who are struggling in their marriages, dipping into pornography. You have to consider the stumbling block that your dancing is to—”
“That’s not my problem. Grown men are capable of making decisions for themselves.” I turn and look at him. “Free will, right? They want to screw their lives up, destroy their marriages; they have the right to do that. Don’t blame me for it.”
He nods and takes my hand in a gentle hold. “I don’t blame you. I just don’t want you to look back and wish you’d spent time doing something more with your life. Something that involves serving and helping others. That’s where true joy lives.”
Bitterness wells up in my gut and turns my stomach. Serving others. That’s what my parents have always preached to us. The joy in giving. The blessing in selflessness. But it doesn’t always work out for everyone, now does it?
“True joy?” I sit up and put down a foot to stop the swing. “Dad, it was Lana’s selflessness that got her killed.”
He blanches but recovers quickly. “No, it was the sin and the brokenness of man that killed your sister. It—”
“She pulled her car over to help. It was dark, and she knew if she drove by a person in need without stopping she’d be letting you down, letting God down. She’d never be able to look at herself in the mirror. That was Lana, Dad.”
“Honey—”
“She never should’ve stopped. If she never stopped, she’d be here.” And I wouldn’t be stripping! “She’d be sitting right here with us, but she’s not.” I push up from the swing.
“No, but she’s with our Father in heaven, and that’s better than—”
“Don’t.” I hold up my hand. “Please, don’t tell me that her being in heaven is better than her being here with us.”
He stands and studies me with a compassion that wrecks me. “I love you, Beatriks. You and Svetlana were the first children that God brought to us. You two were a package deal. Your sister refused to leave you even at a young age. I can only imagine how her death—”
“Murder.”
“Murder . . . must’ve affected you. Still affects you.” He steps forward and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got to let her go, Bea.”
“I can’t.” Not until whoever killed her pays for what he’s taken from me. “She refused to let me go, Dad. I’m doing the same.”
“She held onto you to keep you safe. Your holding onto her is poisoning the life you could have. The life you were fated to have.” He squints up at the sky and then back down at me. “Don’t you see, Bea? Her life’s purpose was your safety. Your happiness.
Everything she did revolved around her protection of you. Honor her life and all she sacrificed by becoming all you can be. Don’t settle for simply being an”—he clears his throat—“exotic dancer.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “You don’t understand.”
“That’s probably true, but know this. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, you could do that would change my love for you. I don’t think any father dreams that his daughter becomes a dancer in Vegas, but if this is truly what makes you happy, that’s all I want for you.” As painful as the words must’ve been to say, I truly believe he means it.
The truth is it doesn’t make me happy. It hasn’t made me happy in a long time. Ever since my best lead took off to Mexico, everything else has led me to a dead end. Sure, I like to dance, but I get plenty of that at the Youth Club.
He pulls me in and wraps his arms around my shoulders. “I love you, sweetheart.”
I bury my face into his shoulder, fighting tears. “I love you too, Daddy.”
“Now, we better get these kids ready for bed.” He yells into the yard for the kids to come in. “Shouldn’t take longer than just a few minutes.”
Two hours and thirty-seven minutes later I’m lying on the top bunk bed in my little sisters’ room, my nose about a foot from the ceiling and the sound of two little girl snores coming from the bed below mine.
I can’t stop thinking about what my dad said earlier tonight. I’ve given up almost four years of my life to stripping, all in the hope of finding something that even the police were unable to find. What seemed so possible at one time now seems as impossible as lassoing the fog. How many more years of my life will I give up for my dead sister? One? Ten? Would I give up my life? If Svetlana were here right now, she’d tell me I’d already wasted too much time. Her interests were always me first, everything else second, and all I ever wanted was to give that back to her.
But she’s gone.
Dead.
I’m fighting for nothing more than a memory.
Fighting for Forever Page 17
