All Out of Pretty

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All Out of Pretty Page 20

by Ingrid Palmer


  I climb into the back and try to change without exposing too much of anything. My knees knock together nervously. I’m hesitant to ask Judd where we’re going, since I can see how tense he is, but I have to know.

  With the detested dress hugging my body and me sitting in the backseat, a whole arm’s length away from Judd, I venture, “What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothin’. Donovan wants to see how well you take direction.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he does.”

  “Why the dress?” My voice shakes.

  “He thinks all his ladies should wear dresses.”

  The words “his ladies” freeze me in terror. “I’m not going anywhere with him,” I insist.

  I half expect Judd to twist around and shut me up with the back of his hand, but he doesn’t even acknowledge my words. As if I don’t count. As if I’m nothing but the polluted, unwanted offspring of a rapist.

  Then the horrible image of Ayla and the cop pops into my head. It’s not hard to imagine Donovan doing the same thing to me.

  “I’ll turn you in,” I say recklessly. “I know everything about your business. I’ll tell the police who you are, where your drugs are hidden, the delivery routes, everything!”

  I wait for my words to take effect, but Judd just laughs. “You think you know something? You know nothin’. Smoke and mirrors, girl. I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive.” His lip curls up over his yellow teeth. “Are you threatening me? When I finish with you tonight, you’ll be lucky if you can move.”

  My stomach flips because I’m sure he’s serious. But at least that means I won’t be with Donovan tonight.

  It’s a time trial.

  A test, like when Judd makes me call him back so fast on the phone. They’re training me. That’s the word Donovan uses when we meet him at the log cabin that’s so far out of town we could be in Kentucky. I don’t know where we are because Judd tied a blindfold on me several minutes before we got here. Now I’m standing next to the car, staring at Donovan and his henchman in front of a cabin deep in the woods. Donovan’s hair is not slicked down today, but hangs in waves around his hooded eyes. If I didn’t know better, if I saw him on the street, I’d think he looked cute. My stomach clenches. I can imagine naïve girls falling for him, dancing right into his trap.

  He inspects me with that self-satisfied smirk, as if he knows I’ll be his someday. Then he gets close enough to rub a lock of my hair between his fingers. I wrench away with disgust, even though Judd’s eyes are boring into me, warning me to play nice.

  “You’re too soft on her,” Donovan chastises Judd as they turn and walk away.

  “She’s under control,” Judd assures him.

  “These girls are like horses, Judd. You break ’em right away, or they’ll always be ornery…”

  Then they get too far away for me to hear any more of their disgusting talk. I glance at the cabin again, and something in the window catches my eye. No, not something. Someone. As quickly as I lock onto the set of eyes peering beneath the curtain, they are gone. I can’t even be sure I didn’t imagine them.

  I surreptitiously search the windows, but no one appears again. As the men drift back toward the car, Donovan calmly threatens, “You’re running out of time, Judd. Payment’s due soon. Or she’s mine.”

  Then Donovan’s eyes slice over to me, and I realize I was meant to hear his threat. He reaches out swiftly, grabs my wrist and waits for me to react. Somehow, I know I shouldn’t. I hold perfectly still until his grip relaxes. He trails a finger lightly up and down my arm.

  Unlike Judd, who just wants respect and obedience, Donovan enjoys making me uncomfortable. To him, it’s a game. When he releases me, I step back instinctively, bumping into the creepy bald guy whose job was to keep an eye on me while Judd and Donovan talked. Baldy isn’t that intimidating, though, at least not in comparison to his cold, calculating boss. Until I met Donovan, I didn’t think anyone could scare me more than Judd.

  The two of them walk away again and Baldy looks down at his phone, bored. With the edge of my dress, I frantically rub at the spot on my arm where Donovan grabbed me, where his sweaty fingers pinched my skin. I want to get his smell, his essence, his intention off me.

  When the men are done hashing things out, Judd pushes me back into the car and reattaches the blindfold, pulling it painfully tight. He’s angry. Since I can’t see, I silently count the seconds until we’re on the highway. He takes off the blindfold after 1,720 seconds, but I keep counting. Someday, if I tell the police exactly how far away the cabin is from Haydon, maybe they can find it.

  On the drive home, Judd seethes. I can tell by the way he yanks me from the car into the house that the meeting did not go as he’d hoped. Once we’re in the cellar, he makes good on his promise by thrashing my legs with his belt. Somehow, Judd’s fury seems to have more to do with Donovan’s displeasure than my earlier threat, though.

  I barely sleep that night. My legs throb like crazy. But that’s not what keeps me up. It’s Donovan’s voice in my head, Payment’s due soon. Or she’s mine. And it’s the memory of Donovan’s eyes on me. He’s always had a hungry look, but today I saw something even scarier—resolve.

  I sit up and start to hyperventilate. Everything in my life seems to be accelerating erratically, like a spinning top veering toward the edge of a cliff. By Judd’s count, I owe him eight hundred and fifty dollars. Maybe if I find a way to get him that money, he’ll be off the hook with Donovan and I’ll be off Donovan’s radar as well.

  I cup my right hand around the pretty silver watch and squeeze it. “I’m sorry, Gram.” I whisper. But it’s the only chance I’ve got.

  Chapter 34

  Since I’m not really sleeping, I get up extra early, tiptoe outside and head for the woods. The sun has barely risen, but Brick’s green Explorer is parked on the street outside Judd’s house. When I see it, I stop in my tracks, my eyes widening. Brick is slouched in the driver’s seat. “What the…” I mumble to myself and march over.

  As I approach, he sees me. He sits up and calls through the driver’s window, “Hey, I brought your books—”

  “Shh!” With a glance back at the house, I wonder how much of the road Judd can see from his bedroom window. I don’t want him catching even a glimpse of Brick—for both our sakes. “Can I get a ride?” I ask quietly.

  Brick nods. I quickly swing up into the passenger seat and we take off.

  “This is really early, even for you,” I say, trying to conceal my annoyance.

  Brick’s jaw twitches, but he stares straight ahead at the road. “I was worried about you.”

  I make myself laugh, though it rings false. “Because I ditched school? We weren’t exactly learning anything.”

  He steers with his left hand while his right reaches into the back seat and emerges with a reusable grocery bag, which he drops into my lap. Inside it are all the books and papers I left in trig.

  “I covered for you with Sampson,” he says. “I told her you got sick and went to the nurse.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Since when does Andrea Hathaway skip school?” he asks a moment later. “Since when does little miss ‘I’ve-never-been-in-trouble-before’ risk suspension by bolting in the middle of trig?”

  “Um. Since yesterday, I guess.” It’s really hard to keep my voice light when my mind is fixated on the word he used—suspension.

  I grab the oh-crap handle as Brick turns the Explorer onto a bumpy dirt road, brakes hard, and shoves the gear shift into park. He turns to me and stares, expectant.

  “What?” I finally ask.

  “Why’d you leave school yesterday? Who called you?” he demands.

  I meet his glare with one of my own, but my mouth is clamped shut. This is the last thing I need. I have too much on my mind, too much to take care
of with Judd, with Donovan. And I can’t protect Brick and Chloe if they continue to push at me with these questions and show up at Judd’s house uninvited.

  When he realizes I’m not yielding, Brick slumps back in his seat, his hand over his eyes. “I’m really worried about you, Andrea. I was up all night.”

  I decide to play it lightly. “I’m sorry about your beauty sleep, but as you can see, I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine,” he argues and then looks at me half angry, half concerned. “Look, I get that you want everyone to think you’re this tough chick, aloof, too cool to be bothered with—”

  “That sounds about right,” I agree and stare out the window, aloofly.

  “But I see something very different,” he presses, gently. “I see a girl who thinks she’s alone in the world. A girl who’s guarded and…sad.”

  Whipping my head around, I say, “Guarded, maybe. I’ll admit that I don’t like people in my business. But pick another adjective because I’m definitely not sad.”

  “Okay, here’s a better one…” Brick’s brown eyes level me across the front seat. “Scared.”

  “You think I’m scared?” I scoff.

  “I think you’re terrified.”

  His accusation hangs in the air between us for a moment, then plummets.

  “Screw you, Brick Mason.” I fumble for the door handle, jump out of his SUV, and wade into the woods. They’re dense here. Burrs cling to my jeans and tennis shoes.

  Brick leaps through his own door and yells, “See? There you go, running away. I’m your friend, Andrea. Why won’t you talk to me?”

  I don’t answer. I haven’t been careful enough with my words—that’s why I’m in this predicament.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” Brick calls desperately.

  “Afraid of you?” I laugh, wrestling with a tall cluster of reeds impeding my path. I grit my teeth and yank at the reeds, scraping up my palms. “I’m not afraid of anybody.”

  There’s a pause. And then, “Not even that guy you live with?”

  I freeze. Spin around and face Brick, who is now only a few feet away. I stare hard at him. His eyes bore right back at me with the same intensity. “Why would you—?”

  “It’s the way you jump whenever he calls.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say coldly.

  Brick’s eyes zero in on mine. “And it’s the way he dragged you into your house yesterday.”

  I stare, dumbfounded. A thousand emotions whip through me like wind. “You’re…spying on me?”

  “No. I was waiting for you to come home so I could give you your books.”

  While I search for my breath, I glance down at the small patch of woods between us. Brick walks closer, carefully. “But I saw the way you shrank away from him. I saw the way he held onto you.” Brick’s hand slowly moves to my arm, touching me softly in the exact place above my elbow where Judd pinches me, where he yanks so hard I think my arm might pop loose from my shoulder. “Please tell me what’s going on,” he says. “I can help, or I can just listen, and it’ll be our secret. But you need someone…”

  Breaking out of my trance, I snatch my arm back. “Stay the hell away from me. Stay out of my life. I mean it.” But I’m not convincing anyone. I wasn’t ready for this, wasn’t expecting to be called out today. I hate this feeling, this loss of control, this sensation of being exposed.

  Brick’s eyes are glossy, his jaw set like stone. “What does he do to you? Andrea…” By the look on Brick’s face, I don’t have to guess what he’s thinking. He saw me in that horrible dress, after all. Shame floods my neck, turning my pale skin a deep crimson.

  “It’s nothing like that! He just pushes me around, makes me help him with his business.”

  “What kind of business?”

  I cross my arms, upset that I’ve told him this much. “Direct sales.”

  He stares at me for a long minute. Then his eyes widen, like he’s figured something out. “You mean drugs, don’t you? Holy shit…” He takes a step back.

  “No, Brick! God, you have some imagination. He sells stuffed bears, clothes, small appliances…It’s like a home shopping channel but through the Internet. Sometimes I have to dress up to do product demonstrations, like yesterday.” I grab his arm, desperate for him to buy my story. “It’s demeaning, but it’s not illegal.”

  Brick’s eyes are incredulous. “You almost believe it yourself, don’t you? That it’s all okay? Andrea, you’re in serious trouble. Let me help you.”

  “I don’t need your help. I’m handling it.” I grit my teeth and explain, “My Gram’s dead. My mom’s sick. I don’t have an Uncle Pete and Aunt Lil like you do. You don’t know, sitting up there in your big house, how much worse it could be. How much worse he could be. So just get off my case because I know what I’m doing.”

  But he isn’t listening. He’s walking fast to his Explorer, opening the back door, fumbling through his backpack. And I’m trailing him to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid like call his uncle, or the police. “Brick—”

  He thrusts something into my hands. “Here. Take my phone. He probably monitors that other one, right? Take this. I want you to call my house if you need help. I don’t care if it’s three in the morning, you call and I’ll come—” He is frantic, his words colliding.

  I push the phone away. “No, I can’t—”

  “Andrea, please!”

  “No.” If Judd sees me with this phone, or hears it, or finds it…

  As usual, Brick reads my mind. “Hide it somewhere. Turn it off until you need it. Save the battery.”

  His eyes are bloodshot and so worried that I’m stunned, flattered, by how much he cares. I think about Judd’s whiskey bottle coming at my head, the cold night spent in the cellar, the welts currently plastered across my legs. But I can’t bring myself to tell Brick that if it ever gets to the point where I need him to rescue me, it’ll probably be too late.

  Instead I say, “Just write down your number. That way you’ll have your phone if I need to reach you.”

  After thinking about it for a minute, he scribbles his number on a paper and hands it to me. “Any time. I mean it.”

  “Okay.” I put the slip of paper in my pocket.

  He runs both his hands through his hair. “Look, I can’t just forget what I saw. So don’t be surprised if my truck’s parked in front of your house every night from now on.”

  “Brick, no. You can’t come near the house again. Chloe either. You’ll make things worse for me. Jason’s irritated right now, but in a few days he’ll be fine.”

  “Why?” he demands.

  I look away, sick that I’m telling him any of this. But it’s the only way to keep him from opening his own stupid mouth. “I owe him some money. I just have to pay him back.”

  “Jesus, Andrea! He’s a grown man and you’re a junior in high school. What could you possibly owe him money for?”

  “I told you, he takes care of my mom. He doesn’t do it for free.”

  Brick looks confused. “You said he paid you. That all the money you earned was in some trust. I thought you didn’t have access to it.”

  “Yeah, but I’m getting a check soon. Inheritance from my Gram.” It’s sort of true, I think, since it’s her watch I’m going to sell. “Then everything will be fine.”

  Brick shakes his head. “This is all kinds of wrong. You shouldn’t have to do any of this. Can’t you go to the police—”

  “They’ll take my mom away. Plus I don’t want to go to a foster home, okay? I need to be in a good school district. I need to get into a good college. Can’t you understand that?”

  Finally, Brick seems to comprehend my motives. Grades and college and focusing on the future are things he does understand.

  He presses his lip together, deciding. �
��Swear to me that you’re not in danger.”

  “I swear.” I say it fast and then sigh in exasperation. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. It’s really not that bad.”

  His eyes look deeply into mine, searching. “I really hope you’re right.”

  Brick seems calmer now, and all I can do is smile a bit and roll my eyes and hope that I’ve convinced him.

  We stand in silence for a minute, decompressing. Then we slowly climb back into the Explorer. I pull on my seatbelt while Brick stares at the woods. “Are you hungry?”

  I’m always hungry. I shrug. “A little.”

  “I spent all night in my car. I’m exhausted and famished.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “Wanna ditch school again?”

  “Okay.” I’m not sure I want to spend the entire day with Brick, though. The events of the last half hour have totally unnerved me, and part of me just wants to find a quiet place to digest everything. But I may need to do more damage control. I have this sensation of being split wide open, with all my secrets dangling dangerously in the breeze.

  At the same time, being with Brick feels easier now. Even though I fed him half-truths, he is the first person who has come close to knowing anything about my real life. My secret life. And despite how worried I am about the money and Donovan and Judd, I want more than anything to hold onto this new feeling of intimacy, this lovely feeling of not being so utterly alone. My other problems can wait a day, I decide. They can wait.

  We get breakfast to go. Brick suggests running into the deli at the market, but I shake my head and he doesn’t question it. He drives through McDonald’s, then steers down some gorgeous country lanes to a patch of woods I’ve never seen. With our Mickey D bags and a blanket Brick snagged from the back of his SUV, we duck under a chain and head down a service road. I follow his lead through the thicket, lost in my own head.

  “This road leads to the far side of my uncle’s property, behind the cornfields,” he explains. “There’s a nice little brook back here. It’s a good place for a picnic.”

 

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