Michael actually considered the idea, until he stopped by my house the other night to pick me up for another one of his family’s dinner extravaganzas. He walked in my bedroom catching me wearing only my panties. He demanded sex right that second…in my bedroom…with my mother across the hall, getting ready to join us for dinner.
“No! Mom will hear us,” I argued. I knew damn well she didn’t care. She’d let Michael come into my bedroom unannounced. Everyone believed his chaste charade, never thinking he’d “deflower” me before our wedding.
Michael also entranced my mother. His presence in my bedroom reassured her the wedding would happen and her daughter would marry Boston’s most eligible bachelor. What a feather for her socialite hat.
I remembered how Michael’s eyes roved my body, his nose wrinkling momentarily with disgust at the bruise covering my stomach. We’d only been home a week and the visual mark of his abuse had actually turned a darker purple.
The eyes I hated darkened with sick pleasure when they rested on my bare chest. Two steps brought him across the room and his hands on me before I could reach for something to cover myself or move out of the way. He pinned me against the wall with his body, the bruise on my back smarting against the pressure.
“Ouch! What are you doing?”
His mouth moved over my chest, “I think it’s obvious.” Fingers stroked the inside of my thighs, his pulse quickening in the hot lips pushing hard on mine.
I closed my mouth and pushed him back. “My period is still going.”
“Shit.” He stepped away. “How long does that go for anyway? I’m dying babe. I’ve got to have you.”
“Honestly, given what happened in Wellsville, it’ll probably be awhile.” He hated when I reminded him of that day. I punctuated the moment. “If you want, I can go to a doctor to make sure nothing’s wrong?” Just the ice needed to put out the fire.
“No. Nothing’s wrong, anyway. You’re perfect.” He kissed me lightly and left me to finish getting ready.
Thinking I bought myself some time, I semi-relaxed later at his family dinner. Until dessert. Michael tapped his fork against his glass.
“Everyone? Taylor and I have a surprise.” He turned to his mother, his face shifting into a boyish pout. “I hope this won’t cause you too much stress, Mommy, but Taylor’s kind of anxious…you know. So I agreed to let her move the date up.” He raised his glass and my stomach lurched. “We’re getting married in two weeks!”
The room transformed into jubilation and chaos. Two weeks. Not six. Not even four. Two weeks until imprisonment in matrimonial hell. My mother squealed in elation.
Later, alone with my dark thoughts, I finally allowed the floodgates to open. I gave permission for my heart to ache for Riley…to miss him. On the drive home to Boston from Wellsville, I forbade a single tear to drop. I knew if one fell, I’d be admitting to my heart I’d made a horrific mistake by leaving. The recognition of such a grave error in judgment would also acknowledge I existed. And I didn’t. I’d turned into a shell of some girl who once knew true love, but now, knew only anger, hatred, and unbearable loneliness.
**
Michael’s hand sliding under the edge of my skirt, his fingers stroking my thigh, reminded me my present nightmare still played on. Cautiously, I brushed his hand away. He moved it to my bare shoulder, caressing my neck.
“Your dad acted strange tonight.” His fingers purposely pinched my skin. “You didn’t say anything, did you?”
“Ouch! No way. I’ve kept my promise. Why do you think he acted strange?”
“After dinner, he got a call on his cell and left the dining room. When he returned, I swear his eyes shot lasers through me. He kept giving me these evil stare-downs. I tell you, baby, the guy weirds me out.”
“You’re imagining things. My parents are thrilled we’re getting married.” A match made in Hell.
Michaels’ hand wrapped my hair, tugging my head toward him.
“What are you doing?” I protested. He kept pulling.
“Babe, you’ve got to give me something. Two weeks is a long time.”
His knee propped the steering wheel and he unzipped his pants. Suddenly, I knew what Michael wanted.
“No! Don’t make me, Michael. Please! Save it for when we, uh…have more room. Besides, the console’s in the way.”
All the times Riley and I spent together he never even hinted about me going down on him. Never. Sometimes he tortured me by kissing my stomach, but that was as far as he took his mouth.
Tears welled in my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to be with Riley. With him, I felt safe. He respected me and never pushed. When I said “stop,” he did, without whining. I knew I got him worked up all the time, but if I said “no,” he didn’t question. Begged, but only being playful. If Grammy hadn’t turned on the flood lights that night, stop would have been the last thing I’d have said.
Michael kissed my hair, whispering over my ear. “If you want, I can pull over. There’s a blanket in the trunk.” He arched his pelvis and his knee lost grip of the wheel, swerving the car across the highway.
“Michael!” I screeched. My heart stopped beating as I watch white dotted lines dance sideways.
He stomped on the brakes, sending clouds of billowing smoke in the air. The car launched off the side of the road, into a crevasse. The airbags remained intact, but the engine killed and wouldn’t restart.
“Fuck!” he shrilled, the nasty word chasing its echo into the darkness. No cars had passed us either way in the past half hour, probably because it was past midnight.
Nothing good happens after midnight.
Michael flipped on the car GPS and sent the satellite signal to his phone. He confirmed his coordinates with the towing service and snapped his phone shut. “Thirty fucking minutes!” he snarled.
His head snapped my direction and his hand clamped the back of my neck. “This is your fault! If you weren’t being such a prude, we wouldn’t be sitting in the middle of nowhere waiting to be murdered!”
Murder. A welcome alternative to what lie ahead for me.
“You’re such a whiny bitch, Taylor!” He yanked a fistful of my hair. “You’ve got thirty minutes to convince me forgive you. Make it count baby!”
Bile licked the back of my throat. I prayed my dinner stayed down. Or maybe I prayed it didn’t.
Twenty-Nine
PARTY CRASHERS
Riley
Wednesdays were worse than Mondays. I pulled late shifts on Tuesdays, which cut into my already sleepless nights. My three AP classes were on Wednesdays. I became mentally drained by the time the last bell rang, which then signaled soccer practice.
This Saturday marked the big match with our rivals, Edgemont High. I had to be on my game. I would lead out. However, since Taylor left, my head refused to get into any game except the one I planned.
Taylor would be getting married in five weeks. I volunteered for every shift I could trade for at Barneys, socking money away. My bus pass lay tucked between my mattresses. I would go to Boston and persuade Taylor not to go through with the wedding. If I had to kill Michael to help her make that decision, then I would—with pleasure.
Nobody knew about my plan. Not even Jaxson, whose departure date got postponed for two weeks. Next Monday he’d ship out. I guessed Dad and his sarge buddy cut some deal so Jax could stay longer and watch over me. Talk about the world rotating the opposite direction. Jax guarding me.
I tossed my backpack onto the kitchen table and went straight for the coffeemaker.
“Riley, that thing will scratch the wood tabletop. Please put it on a chair,” my mother scolded, shepherding Dirk towards the garage. “And don’t be late again. Your father said if he gets another call from that Sylvia woman in the attendance office, your job at Barney’s is over.”
“Mom…”
Dirk wrangled out from under Mom’s arm, nearly spilling her coffee. “Dirk!”
“Sorry, Mom!” followed after his clonking foot
steps running up the stairs. “I forgot my homework,” he shouted before slamming his bedroom door.
“Honestly,” my mother mumbled. Her eyes lifted to the ceiling. I decided God lived in our attic, right over the kitchen. “One daughter? Would that have been too much to ask?”
I bent and kissed the top of her head, desperately fighting the urge to tease her about the gray starting to form a silver stripe against her fake blonde hair. “Someday we’ll all marry sex starved girls and you’ll have three daughter-in-laws. Hell, you’ve probably already got at least one granddaughter from Jaxson somewhere in the world.”
She slapped my arm. “That’s not funny, Riley.” Her expression softened and her thumb brushed over the permanent crease between my brows. “Riley, you’ll find someone special again, I promise.”
I stepped out of her reach and Dirk reappeared, breathless, holding a fistful of paper. Mom’s attention turned to him, lecturing him all the way through the laundry room about how wrinkled his homework would be. “Don’t be late, Riley!” were her parting words before the garage door slammed.
I poured a cup of coffee and stepped out onto the deck to drink it. The morning fog hovered, dampening the railing of the deck and hiding the thicket behind in a misty gray curtain. Unable to stop my thoughts from wandering, I let them trail off to an imaginary place where Taylor and I were still together…holding hands or touching body parts, depending on how long I had to daydream.
Jaxson’s voice destroyed the fantasy of Taylor’s lips about to press mine, reeling me back to my hellish existence. “Bro, someone’s here to see you.” I spun around, puzzled. “Lydia Daniels,” he whispered.
I spied her through the glass door.
“What’s she doing here?”
“Said she needs to talk to you. Do you want me to send her out so you have some privacy?”
“No. Anything she has to say needs a witness present. Or a bodyguard. I still blame her for Taylor leaving.”
“Bro, don’t go there again. Please. Let go.”
“Never.”
I muscled past him, making no attempt to hide my disgust toward Mrs. Daniels. I set my mug on the counter. “What do you want?” I asked, mustering as much contempt as possible.
In her trembling fingers dangled an ivory envelope with mangled corners. She held the envelope out to me. “Here. This came in the mail yesterday. Apparently, I’m an afterthought, or a threat.”
“What is it?”
“Open it, Riley.” She paced the length of the dining room, muttering. “Saturday. I can’t believe she’d do such a thing.” She stopped and faced me, just as I pulled the engraved invitation from the gold lined envelope. “You were right. Michael’s a monster.”
I read the gold embossed words, one phrase in particular, over and over.
…pleased to announce the marriage of Taylor Grace Wilson and Michael Bradford Barnes. Celebrate their joyous union by attending a reception held in their honor…
“They’re married?” I choked, feeling the warm wet trail of a single tear crawl over my cheek.
“This Saturday. Michael moved the wedding up, according to Grace.”
“Taylor?” I rasped, tasting snot mixed tears dripping off my top lip. “Is she okay?”
Lydia shrugged, her own eyes shimmering. “No one will let me talk to her. I believe her mother would say something if she wasn’t. My invitation is just a courtesy. Grace said Michael only wants immediate family present for the ceremony.”
“He’s keeping her isolated,” Jaxson chimed in. “Easier to keep her under his control if there’s not a lot of outside influence.”
“Trapped is more like it,” Mrs. Daniels sneered. “I can’t believe I didn’t see the signs before. The way Michael shadowed her wherever she went, never giving us a moment alone. When I think back to those last couple of days…how quiet Taylor was after I returned—”
“Shut up already! I don’t want to hear Michael’s name again. Ever!”
I rushed up the stairs, leaving Lydia Daniels alone with Jax. I couldn’t handle another word out of the woman’s mouth. She brought Michael to Wellsville. She ruined everything. She not only destroyed Taylor’s life, but mine as well.
My fist clenched the wedding invitation. I looked at the clock. First period was well under way. Dad would be getting “the call” any minute and I’d be grounded. That meant I barely had an hour to act on the thoughts rambling in my head. Dad would come here if I didn’t show up at school by next period. Wonder how he’d handle finding me absent from home?
I grabbed my duffel bag, dumping in a change of clothes, shoes, and a pillow for sleeping on the bus. Fumbling between the bedding and mattress, I located my ticket to Boston. I shoved my iPod and earphones in my pocket and grabbed the wad of cash I’d been saving from under the old aquarium in the top of my closet. Almost four hundred dollars.
As soon as I heard the front door shut, I made my way down the stairs, rounding the corner to the kitchen and smacking into Jax. He tugged the strap slung over my shoulder.
“What’s up with the duffel bag?”
“Nothing.”
“You lie like a rug, Riley. What’s going on?”
I scuffed my toe against the tile. “I’m going to Boston. I’ve got to stop Taylor from marrying that freak.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know, Jax. But I can’t sit on my ass waiting for ‘justice to be served’. I didn’t protect her before, but I can sure as hell give it one last shot.”
“How are you getting there?”
“What are you? My surrogate parent?” I held up the bus ticket. “Satisfied?”
“So what do I tell Mom? She’ll be furious. And Dad? Shit Riley. You could blow the case wide open. That ass could walk free!”
“He won’t be walking anywhere when I’m through with him. At least not standing up straight.”
“Jail’s not worth it, Riley.”
“No, but Taylor is.”
Jax didn’t argue my statement. He scrubbed the dark stubble covering his head. “Don’t move. Give me fifteen minutes and don’t answer the phone.” He took the stairs two at a time.
“Huh?”
Jax stuck his head out of his bedroom. “I’m going with you. We’ll take Bessie.”
Bessie was Jaxson’s restored Boss 302 Mustang. Candy apple red, the engine bored out to peak performance, fat tires and chrome mags that shone brighter than the sun when polished. The scent of the black leather interior, mingled with just the right combination of air fresheners hanging from the cigarette lighter, could be bottled and labeled “SEX.”
I dropped my bag in the entry, placing my bus ticket on the credenza. I hurried back to the kitchen and wrote a note, propping it against the fire hydrant jar full of dog treats. I grabbed a box of Cheese Nibs from the pantry.
“Dude, you’re not eating in my car.”
“Jax, we’ll to have to drive twenty-four-seven to get there in time. We’re eating in the car.”
“You will vacuum every speck of imitation cheese dust when you bring her back, understand?”
I slung my bag over my shoulder and shoved a baseball cap on my head. “Bessie or Taylor?”
“Both. I hope. Now let’s get the hell out of here before Dad pulls up. We’re both in deep enough shit as it is.”
I locked the front door, leaving my common sense beside my bus ticket on the entry table. The rules of the game just changed. Jax became my partner-in-crime, supporting me in a plan I hadn’t created yet. Hopefully by the time we reached Boston, I’d receive a revelation telling me exactly what to do.
Until then, I’d enjoy my box of cheese crackers and daydream.
Thirty
BATTLE PLAN
Jaxson
When I pulled up to a sleazy motel off the interstate in Connecticut, Riley went ram-rod straight in the passenger seat. “Why are we stopping here? We’re almost there!”
“I’m exhausted and so are you, not to mention we
have no plan once we arrive in Boston. Do you even know where this ‘blessed event’ is taking place? Boston isn’t Wellsville, Riley.”
“Ellsville,” he corrected under his breath.
“Shut the fu—”
“Fine! I get it. Four hours, Jax. That’s it. I can’t risk being late. Shit, that asshole has probably talked her into eloping. This could all be for nothing.”
“Riley, for the love of God!” I shouted, exasperated with his attitude.
I threw open the driver’s door and reached behind the seat to grab my own duffel bag. Everything I needed for training camp was packed inside. As soon as Riley stopped Taylor from saying “I do” and I helped him hide Michael’s body, I’d be on a plane for Virginia to catch my unit. I just had one more loose end to tie up. Call Dad.
Disturbing described the room when we opened the door. Two beds with mattresses sagged close to the ground, framed a small night table missing part of a leg. So that’s why the huge yellow page directories were still in print. Dive motels across the nation used them to hold up broken furniture. I held the coffee carafe up for inspection. A milky residue swarmed the glass.
“We’ll get coffee on the way in the morning.”
“Morning! I didn’t agree to a fucking overnight stay!”
“Calm down Riley. These walls are almost transparent they’re so thin. You going off half crazed will summon the police, if not an entire S.W.A.T. team and chopper crew. We’ll both be in jail instead of Boston. Dad will leave our carcasses behind bars to rot and Taylor will be the bride of Frankenstein, so drop the ‘drama queen’ routine.”
I tossed my duffel bag onto the bed near the door, trying not to imagine how many millions of bedbugs I sent scurrying. I’d need to sleep with one eye open not only to keep Riley from escaping, but to make sure my body didn’t get carried off by an oversized arachnid during the night.
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