Sugar

by S. L. Jennings

  “Then you should remember Luke lived through the premature birth that his brother and sister didn’t. God rest their souls. Luke was a survivor from day one. And I might add, he has a spoonful too much of his daddy’s asshole in him.”

  Tori’s mind raced, trying to figure out the implications of Monique’s statement.

  Breathing heavily from her tirade, Monique cupped Tori’s face in her hand and glared into her eyes. “The game already changed the minute Richard chose Luke. So, what are you going to do?”

  Chapter 7

  “Wake up!” Richard shouted.

  Luke’s eyes remained closed until he felt drops of liquid on his face.

  “Hey,” he yelled, sitting up. His hands were still tied to the chair, which didn’t allow for him to wipe his face. “What the …?”

  Luke felt drained. Whatever Richard gave him was still running through his system. Plus, Richard kept droning on about how he wanted to kill his mom. At first, the words formed pictures in his head, and his stomach cramped and rolled. Then he remembered Uncle Ant always said that real men were men of action. Weak men were men of talk. Richard talked a lot.

  In the distance, Luke heard a train chugging along a track. As the train passed, Luke figured they were somewhere near a freight train track, which could mean anything since he hadn’t seen even the direction they traveled.

  Up until Richard started pouring stuff on him, Luke hadn’t uttered a word. All that did was give Richard free reign to keep talking. He needed a different strategy.

  “Are you …?” Luke started.

  “Ah. Wondered how long the silent treatment was going to last,” Richard encouraged. “Ask me any question you’d like.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, Luke gathered his courage to ask, “Are you going—going to kill me?” He hated the way his voice broke in the middle of the question.

  Richard leaned back in his recliner. “Not today.”

  Luke’s heart rate increased, but his movement ceased. He couldn’t die here, alone, in the middle of nowhere. All he could say for sure was he was in some house, somewhere by a train track.

  He could be in Indiana for all he knew, possibly even Michigan or Wisconsin. The sun still shone, but that didn’t mean he was close to home.

  “In the car, before,” Luke started. Richard lifted his brow as if daring him to go on. “Before you said Gran left you. Why did she leave?”

  “She was weak,” Richard responded, lifting his shirt to scratch his protruding stomach. He began cleaning the crud laying underneath his nails. Luke wanted to puke as Richard wiped the crud on the chair arm.

  “And my mom? Why did she leave you?” Luke inquired.

  Richard laughed. “Well, technically, your mother didn’t leave. I took her back to Honey.”

  “Why?” Luke asked. He just needed to figure out what made Richard tick. Maybe whatever trick his mom used can save him.

  Smiling, Richard stretched. “Honey came back to play, in a manner of speaking.”

  Luke looked around at the worn furniture and beaten hardwood floors. This house had papers all over. Dishes overflowed in the kitchen sink. Every surface retained a layer of dust. His Gran kept everything pristine. His mom used to say her OCD had OCD. “Gran never lived here.”

  “No, she didn’t live here.” Laughing, he added, “I just had a lot of fun with your Gran.”

  “Why did you take me? I can’t replace Gran.”

  “You’re not nearly as much fun, but there is something about you. Reminds me of a younger version of me. With Honey gone, you could stay here. I’ll raise you up right.”

  “I have a mother.” Luke’s anger rose like tsunami waves.

  “But what if you didn’t?” Richard responded before turning on the television, keeping the volume low.

  No way this nut job was getting anywhere near his mom. First, Luke had to get out of the ropes. “I’m hungry. Can you bring me something to eat?”

  Richard turned with a furrowed brow. “Are you useful, boy? Can you cook?”

  Luke nodded.

  “Who taught you?” Richard asked skeptically.

  “Gran,” Luke replied.

  Richard jumped out of his seat to untie Luke. Waving at the kitchen, he coaxed, “Well, don’t just sit there. Get us some dinner going.”

  “I’m keeping my eye on you. Don’t try anything funny. You have no clue what I’m capable of.”

  Luke stared into Richard’s amber eyes that mirrored his mother’s so closely. He realized what was missing. No warmth. No laughter. Not even the concern or worry. Just empty brown orbs.

  Shivering with the effects of the chill in Richard’s eyes, Luke walked into the kitchen, noticing the knives that he’d have to wash before even using them as a weapon. Swishing the warm water around to make bubbles in the sink, he began cleaning. If Gran taught him one thing, it’s not to work in a messy kitchen. His mother wasn’t the neatest person, but even she made sure the kitchen was pristine before attempting to cook anything.

  He opened a cabinet and stepped back in surprise. Most people just put spices together alphabetically. This cabinet was organized by flavor profile: cinnamon, allspice, and cloves; salt and pepper; basil, cilantro, oregano, and parsley. They were grouped like Gran did it. He hadn’t seen a spice rack like that outside of his family.

  Luke shut the door, thinking he had to have seen wrong, and opened it again, fingering the spices that his Gran must have organized. Back in the corner of the cabinet, he saw a glint of metal. Moving the spices out of the way, he recognized the ring, the one his Gran didn’t take off.

  He asked her once about it when his mom and Christian had been off to the store getting the food that Gran would prepare for dinner. She twisted the ring on her finger and said, “We are a combination of our experiences. Some are good. Some are bad. Each teaches us a lesson. This reminds me to enjoy moments of peace … of joy. To snatch them and hold them tight.”

  Now, holding that ring in his hand, so far removed from her accident, something clicked. Something bad. “She was here,” he whispered.

  “What, boy?” Richard hollered. “Speak up.”

  “Gran. Gran was here.”

  Richard shrugged and settled back into his recliner.

  “When?” Luke demanded.

  Richard turned, eyes flattened, and lip tightened. “What, boy?”

  Luke softened his tone. “When was she here, Sir?”

  “Much better.” Richard settled back in and chuckled to himself. “Last year, around this time, I wanted to spend time with my daughter. Your Gran hated that. So, she tried to bribe me. Like any good father, I told her no. I wanted to know my daughter. Your Gran started complaining about chest pains and shit. Told her to drive herself to the hospital. I’m not an ambulance service.”

  “You’re the reason for the accident,” Luke realized. “You could’ve called 911.”

  Richard moved across the floor with surprising speed. Before Luke blinked twice, Richard had him in a headlock with a pocketknife against his throat. Luke didn’t so much as swallow, afraid of pushing the knife into his skin.

  “Repeat after me: I had nothing to do with your Gran’s death,” Richard demanded.

  Luke’s nose flared as he mumbled, “You had nothing to do with Gran’s death.”

  “Now, do I have to tie you up again,” Richard asked, “or are you going to finish cooking?”

  Luke couldn’t do anything if Richard tied him up again. “Cook,” he conceded.

  “Good decision,” Richard stated, patting him on the shoulder.

  Luke turned toward the sink as Richard moved to the far corner of the living room to make a call.

  Richard killed Gran. A calm settled over Luke as he formulated a plan. This wasn’t going to be a knife fight. Richard beat him in speed and size, and he’d clearly used his knife before. But Luke would be damned if this asshole got within five feet of the rest of his family. He opened the cabinet again, searching for the answer.
r />   Chapter 8

  Tori broke eye contact first, tearing her face out of Monique’s grasp. She took two steps away.

  Monique’s next words made her stop. “By the way, his last name isn’t Hall.”

  “Excuse me?” Tori glanced over her shoulder.

  “Do you really think your mother would let you keep that asshole’s name?”

  “That’s how she managed to hide for years. His name is King. Your name is Hall.” Monique walked towards the door.

  “Wait!” Tori yelled.

  Monique paused.

  Tori’s mind filtered through her memory banks, trying to find an inkling of personal information about the man who fathered her. “She never told me.”

  “When your mother left, she changed your last names,” Monique explained. “When he took you, I thought she’d shatter into a million pieces. She didn’t. She couldn’t.”

  Tori snorted. “Wow. And like a fool, I just toddled along beside Satan straight into his lair and took her with me.”

  Monique rushed closer. “You had no way of knowing. You were eleven and felt safe. And this man, who was the father you thought was dead, appeared at your school.”

  Tori wrapped her arms around her midriff, staring at the photo of a smiling Antoine posing with Luke, Christian, and the girls. Poor Antoine. How could he find a decent woman with four kids running around all the time?

  Try as she might to separate Antoine’s responsibility for the one he fathered from his joy in all the children to whom she’d given birth, no one ever paid attention to her efforts. Even when she gifted Christian with a photo of him, Antoine and Monique, three generations of Auberts, Christian gifted his siblings with a photo of them all. The twins both claimed Antoine as theirs and dared anyone to refute it.

  “He still loves you, you know.” Once again, Monique broached the subject that for years Tori wouldn’t begin to entertain with her. Her timing hadn’t improved.

  Tori felt a headache creeping along the edges of the brain. “Please, Monique. I can’t. Not right now.”

  “I know.” Her voice laced with sadness and hope. “It’s just a Nanny’s wish, that’s all.”

  “My only wish right now is to get Luke back safe and sound and in a lot better condition than I was,” Tori retorted. “I can’t worry about a man I told to move on years ago.”

  “How can he?” she questioned. “His ideal woman lives twenty feet from his back door.” Monique stared until the sheer weight of her glare forced Tori’s eyes to connect with hers. Then Monique tilted her head as if to say, what are you going to do about it?

  “His ideal woman cheated on him with a man she didn’t even know,” Tori countered. “He needs higher standards.”

  “You were hurting.” Monique’s eyebrows rose. “You’re so careful with his heart now, denying yourself to protect him. It’s been years, and I’ve seen growth in both of you. If I trust you with my only son’s heart, why can’t you trust yourself?”

  Footsteps coming up the stairs halted their conversation. Antoine peered inside the room sparkling with glitter, bringing a snorting laugh out of Tori. “I’ve been banned. Apparently, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m wasting all the good stuff.”

  Monique nodded with her hand firmly pressed against her mouth, trying to hold in laughter. “It’s time for a changing of the guard, anyway.”

  “Do you remember anything about Richard that can help us find him?” Tori begged, “An address? A street. Something?”

  “Sweetie, if I had any clue, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you. I’d be right behind an army of shady motherfuckers chasing his ass down.”

  Tori didn’t doubt the truth behind those words. “I had to ask.”

  “I know.” Monique briefly placed her hand over Antoine’s heart before going down the stairs.

  Antoine opened his mouth, but the sound of Tori’s ringtone echoed from downstairs. Monique raced back up with her phone. Fear flashed in her eyes as she gave Tori the phone.

  The word private displayed on the screen.

  Tori breathed and answered with a tentative, “Hello?”

  “Baby girl. It’s been too long.”

  Chapter 9

  Tori’s heart raced, eyes closed, as the memory of his voice scraped along her psyche. Shivering, she longed to hang up, to return to a time when this voice didn’t exist in her world. She couldn’t stop the sobs from spilling out. “Give me back my son.”

  “I could,” Richard taunted, “But then what would you give me?”

  Tori froze. Not even a breath competed with the buzz of the night creatures in her backyard as they awakened from their slumber.

  Her next words could put her on the path to no return. Her palms perspired. Was this how her mom felt? Had her stomach muscles clenched? Had her throat dried up, making each word painful?

  “How much?” she demanded, ignoring the red fury rising on the faces of the two people standing nearby. “How much money will it take for you to bring my Luke back?”

  “Money?” Richard shot back, chuckling. The chuckling made Tori’s fingers clench, wishing it was his neck instead of the phone in her hands.

  “That would mean that I kidnapped my grandson,” Richard explained. “Kidnapping is illegal.”

  “But my mom—”

  “Honey offered loans to assist me on occasion.” Richard’s voice deepened, though his tone remained light, as if a laugh could appear at any time. “She had a good heart like that.”

  Tori exhaled, trying to keep the frustration out of her tone. She placed the phone on mute, put a pillow to her mouth, and screamed before returning to the call.

  Christian and the twins screeched from downstairs, making all of them jump.

  Antoine recovered first and reached for the phone. Tori changed ears, holding up her hand. No way she would let him get in the middle of this. He turned, throwing up his hands in disgust. Monique stroked his arm while keeping her eyes firmly locked on Tori.

  “So, you never extorted her. You never kidnapped me. And you haven’t kidnapped my son, either.” Her incredulous laugh lacked any humor. “Audacious.”

  “I do miss the sound of your voice,” Richard whispered. “Of course, I’m going to return Luke. I wouldn’t dream of separating such a young child from his mother; unlike your mother, who skulked around in the middle of the night, using shrewish women to give her a new identity. She forced me to miss so much of my daughter’s life.”

  Richard’s tone took her back to that dark night. Her body shivered. As Antoine and Monique rushed forward, she held her hand up again. She was barely holding it together. She needed to retain whatever bit of strength she had because her son’s life was at stake.

  “Can I speak with Luke, please?” she inquired.

  Richard snapped, “So selfish. Couldn’t even wait until I finished. That’s what happens when a child grows up without a strong male influence. I intend to rectify that situation.”

  Tori stuttered. “You … You … You want to play father to Luke?”

  “No, Tori. You misunderstood my intentions.” Richard’s voice had shifted to one meant to soothe into compliance. “I feel it’s never too late to establish a relationship with my daughter.” Richard explained, “We’re busy people; I can’t provide a schedule, per se. How about whenever I call, you get a sitter and spend some time with dear old dad? Perhaps your mother’s harpy friend and her bitch ass son could keep them.”

  Tori’s tremble turned into full-blown shaking. She peered into Antoine’s concerned eyes. He rushed over and pulled her into his embrace.

  “Tell you what, Tori. Think about it, and I’ll call you back. Ta-ta, dear.”

  Her mouth couldn’t create any sound. Tori couldn’t will her limbs to move.

  Antoine pulled the phone away from her ear and passed it to Monique, who tossed it on the bed.

  After a minute, Tori found her words again.

  “He said he’ll bring back Luke,” she whispered.<
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  Monique rushed over. “How much? How much do you need? We’ll help.”

  “It’s not money.” Her eyes flickered between the two of them. “He wants me. He wants to spend time with me—whenever he asks.”

  Antoine pulled back. “Hell, no! We’ll go to the police. We’ll hire security. But I’ll be damned if …. no. Just no.”

  Chairs scraped as feet pattered around before chairs scraped the hardwood a second time. Clearly, the kids were entertaining themselves and were gratefully oblivious to the turmoil.

  Antoine shouted, “Hey!” It instantly quieted downstairs.

  Tori’s hand continued to shake, even after the rest of her body had stopped. “You know there is no security against his voice in my head. It’s like I’m eleven and afraid to close my eyes. His voice laces all of my nightmares.”

  Monique covered her mouth with her fist. Antoine’s hands clenched at his sides. Tori’s eyes popped open as clarity vacuumed the fog from her mind. “That’s what he does. He takes our security. For my mom, her security was her money. For me, it’s peace.”

  Turning to Antoine, she added, “He already knows you exist. If I let you help, he’ll find a way to bring you into this madness too. I can’t do it. I can’t let him take anything away from anyone else.”

  She plopped down on Luke’s bed.

  “I’m not scared of your father,” Antoine scoffed. “His crazy ass belongs in jail.”

  “When he had me,” she began pushing past the fear, needing them to understand. “When he took me. He …”

  Monique and Antoine shared a glance, then focused on her once again, probably wondering if she’d be able to finish the thought when so many times before she balked at even the thought of trying.

  Suzi and Sheri laughed at something, and the sound echoed throughout the house. Christian barked like a dog, and the twins giggled even harder.

  Antoine sat down on one side, placing his hand on her thigh; while Monique sat beside her, wrapping her arm around Tori. However, Tori stood. Sympathy broke her down, and she needed to get through these words before she crumbled.