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Pride and Papercuts

Page 16

by Staci Hart


  Little rebellions. They were all we had even if they were as fruitful as shooting blow darts at a tank.

  By the time I reached the diner, the sun had slipped behind the buildings, casting everything in their cool shadows. The bell over the door chimed, and the old jukebox stood in all its neon glory in the corner, playing the records that had probably been in rotation since the sixties.

  Dad sat at our favorite booth with a book in his hand, his readers perched on the end of his nose. When he looked up, he smiled, and “Love Me Do” floated in the air around us.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

  “Hey, honey. How was your day?”

  “Don’t ask,” I said as I slid into the booth, dumping my things in the seat next to me.

  “That good, huh?”

  “Worse.”

  The waitress swung by with coffees, and we chose our dinner without menus, having memorized it years ago.

  Dad picked up his coffee. “So your mother is losing her mind.”

  “Yes. Yes, she is.” I tore open a sugar packet and dumped it into my coffee. “Did something happen last night?”

  “She grilled me about who you’re seeing, and we ended up in a fight that shredded my vocal cords.”

  My brow furrowed. “I’m so sorry, Dad.”

  “Oh, don’t be sorry for that. I’ve got your back, kiddo.”

  “It’s all so pointless. Nothing short of complete submission will make her stop, so why fight? You should just go. I’m right behind you.”

  His head cocked with a silent question, but I didn’t stop talking.

  “I’m tired of answering her questions and submitting to her demands. Sure, she’s stayed out of my way to the best of her ability—which is sadly lacking—but she certainly isn’t happy about it. And God knows she can’t keep her mouth shut when she’s happy, never mind when I’m keeping something from her. And I’m just fed up.”

  “You really did have a bad day.” He paused. “Does the quality of your day have to do with her disapproval of your nocturnal activities?” he asked with a dusty blond brow arched.

  “What else? But it’s not just the fight, Dad.” I paused, searching for the words. “Every time we fight, every time there’s even the smallest confrontation, I … I don’t act myself. I become her.”

  His levity melted into dissent. “Don’t ever say that, Maisie. You’re nothing like her.”

  “Everyone tells me that, but I’m not so sure. I don’t recognize myself. I say things I’d never say.”

  “Because she pushes you.”

  “And I not only put up with it, but I engage. And isn’t that what she wants, aside from my compliance? She wants me to fight. She wants me to push back. And when I do, I can’t get the stink of it off me.” My eyes found a fleck in the formica tabletop and held it. “The only alternative is to leave. And I’m close. I am so close, I could quit right now. But … well, if I need to hold out a little bit longer. I just need to get through—” I caught myself before spilling the truth, choosing my next words carefully. “There’s just one thing to resolve, and it’s almost over. Once that’s behind us, I’m through.”

  He said nothing for a stretch. “You sound very sure of yourself.”

  “If I stay, I can help save someone very important to me. If I leave now, I’m almost certain to ruin them.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Marcus Bennet?”

  My gaze snapped to his as I fumbled my mug. “Why would you say that?”

  His smile tilted. “If I hadn’t figured out Marcus had the potential to be the mystery man the second you told me you kissed him, I’d have sorted it out just now. Honestly, the second I told you to stay away from him—I mean it, the moment those words left my mouth—I knew there was no stopping you. You’re trying to help the Bennets, aren’t you? With the lawsuit?”

  “I am,” I breathed, split with equal parts relief and shock. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

  “I wanted to give you the space to tell me. Only said something now because I’m impatient.”

  I chuckled at my coffee before raising my eyes. “You aren’t mad?”

  “Mad? No. Your mother’s the one with that particular grudge, not me. And I trust you. I could never be angry with you for finding someone who makes you happy. He makes you happy, right?” His eyes narrowed in mock suspicion.

  “Very. He makes me feel … equal. I feel equal to him and seen for who I am. And the only other person to make me feel that way is you.”

  His eyes went soft. “It’s called respect, and I am very happy to know I won’t have to teach him any lessons on the subject. Maisie, if this is how you feel, then I have no arguments. I’m more worried about what your mother will do when she finds out. You know she’ll find out, don’t you?”

  “I do. But if she finds out before this lawsuit is over, she will ruin the Bennets just to spite me. She’s a black hole, set to destroy all of us before seeing us happy. You’d think her therapist would have made some headway in the last twenty years.”

  He snorted a laugh. “Psychiatrist, and his only use to her is his prescription pad.”

  “Since I’m stuck there with her, I thought I could use the opportunity to collect information for the Bennets about the lawsuit. Help them head her off.”

  “A spy, huh?” Dad asked with amused pride. “Look at you.”

  But I didn’t smile, didn’t laugh, didn’t feel good about it. “Just another thing I’ve inherited from her. I like to think that it’s different because I’m using my deceit for good instead of evil.”

  He opened his mouth to object, but I changed the subject.

  “I’m ready to move out. I’m ready for you to divorce her.”

  “Trust me, honey, I’m ready too. I’ve had the paperwork filled out for years—all I have to do is add the date and send it to my divorce lawyer.” He watched me for a moment, tracing my face with his gaze as if to note the years that had passed between us. “The first time I ever held you in my arms, I knew my fate and stepped into it. If I’d left, she would have taken you from me. I would not have won custody, and if I had, it would have been the most minimal contact that she could manage. And all that time, every minute I couldn’t be there, you’d have been alone with her. I couldn’t do it, Maisie. I just … there was no way I could give you up, and if I’d left your mother, I would have had to. So I stayed.”

  I stilled, a lump of emotion clamped in my throat. “Daddy …”

  But he smiled. “I don’t regret it. Raising you was the best thing I’ve ever done.” With a shrug, he continued, “After you graduated high school and left, I just couldn’t find a way to file for divorce, not without making your life harder. Anytime you chose me over her would have been a fight. Every Christmas, every birthday, every single moment you came to see me instead of her, she would have taken it out of your hide, not mine. Past that, we all knew you were going to have a role in Bower, and things between you two needed to be as smooth as possible in order for that to have a chance in hell. My leaving would have been another hurdle for you, and I couldn’t knowingly put that on you. Plus, who else would annoy her when you came home? The more I antagonize her, the less she bothers you. Not to mention that I like seeing her all frothy.”

  “Me too,” I said on a giggle. “If you need another reason to walk away, do this for me, just like you stayed for me.”

  Dad sat back, heaving a long sigh through his nose. “I think I’ve been waiting on you. Someday, you’re going to be steady. You’re going to find a track for your life and slip into it, a track your mother can’t bully you down. I want to see you start that life. I want to know you’re going to be okay. And you know what? I think you’re very nearly there.”

  “I think I might be too.”

  “How much does Marcus Bennet have to do with that?”

  I let out a laugh, my cheeks warming up at the mention of Marcus. “Most of i
t, I think. Not directly. It’s only that being with him opened up some window in me I thought had been painted shut. He makes me brave, and he gives me hope. And I won’t let Mother take that away from me.”

  “Remind me to thank him for that, if I ever get a chance.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m glad you found him, but I’m sorry it’s like this. I’ll cover for you when I can, but there’s only so much I can do. So promise me you’ll be careful. Maybe slow it down a little, take some space. Because she’ll figure it out even if she has to hire somebody to do it for her. Play along. Play her game while you keep your secret. And when all this stuff with the Bennets is over, blow her to smithereens.”

  “As if I’m the one with the bazooka.”

  “Dating a Bennet isn’t a bazooka. It’s a goddamn nuke,” he said on a laugh as our waitress swung by with our food—a drippy hamburger with fries for Dad and big, fat waffles with whipped cream and strawberry sauce I was one hundred percent sure did not have natural ingredients.

  As we tucked into our dinner, I was filled with renewed hope that I could have all that I wanted. I would protect the Bennets. I would walk away from my mother and my legacy and into Marcus’s arms.

  And nothing had ever felt so right.

  18

  Wildfire

  MARCUS

  The courtroom held its breath.

  On his bench, the judge frowned at his hands as he flipped through the paperwork Ben had just given him, outlining all the ways the prosecution had pushed the boundaries of acceptable requests.

  No one but our lawyers should have been here—this type of hearing was generally handled by mediators and for exactly the reason we were here in the first place—we were at each other’s throats and unable to make progress on our own. But I’d known Evelyn would insist on being present and that she’d bring Maisie.

  And since Maisie was here, I was too.

  Thanks to Maisie, we’d known what Bower was doing the second they first started asking for tangential and then irrelevant information. Without the tip, we likely would have gone along with the requests for a little while before more requests filed in. Instead, we’d almost immediately filed a motion for the judge to step in.

  And here we were. Whatever the judge decided would determine how the rest of our case would go, including whether or not we’d be financially able to keep fighting.

  Maisie sat on the other side of her mother, which kept her out of my view but for the occasional glimpse of her hand or the gold of her hair. The moment she’d walked into the courtroom, a thread plucked between us, the thrum of it still vibrating in my chest. The effort it took not to look at her was so intense, my collar steamed from exertion.

  She didn’t seem to be faring any better. On the few glances I allowed myself, she was tense and straight and visibly uncomfortable—a far cry from the soft, smiling girl I knew.

  I hated every fucking minute of it.

  My shoulders and neck had been coiled for so long, a headache bloomed at the base of my skull, inching its way toward my temples. God, I wished Maisie weren’t here. But Evelyn wouldn’t show up without her, the deep-seated desire to impart her opinions on her daughter predictable at best and cruel at worst.

  All I wanted was for this to be over so I could get Maisie out of this room, away from her mother, and into my arms.

  The judge closed the folder with that impressive frown still on his face, his eyes sliding to the Bower side of the room. “Can you give me a reasonable explanation as to why you need a deposition from an eighty-year-old vendor who has been retired for fifteen years?”

  “A character witness, Your Honor,” Thompson said, slippery as all hell and smiling like Satan himself.

  The judge looked bored. “You have fifteen character witnesses already. In fact, you seem to have enough information to put together two cases against the defendant.” He picked up a pen and began to write. “I have given enough concessions to this case, but with this, you have pushed the boundaries of what I will and will not allow in my courtroom. The remaining discovery requests are unnecessary and frivolous. There are no reasonable grounds for requesting records of the net mulch delivery from 2012 to prove the disputed clause of this contract. As such, discovery is from hereon considered closed. Mediation will be scheduled for—”

  “Excuse me,” Evelyn blustered.

  Thompson tried to hush her, but she stood.

  “Your Honor, if I may …”

  Slowly, the judge raised his eyes to pin her like a bug. “You may not, Mrs. Bower. I suggest you listen to your counsel and sit down.” He didn’t wait for a response before looking back to whatever was on his desk.

  Evelyn sat so slowly, she could barely be considered in motion.

  “You will schedule mediation with the county clerk within thirty days. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Thompson said.

  “Good. Do not waste any more of the court’s time or resources.”

  His gavel clacked the block, dismissing us.

  He didn’t so much as glance up at us, but Evelyn Bower stared him down so fervidly, I was surprised he didn’t catch fire.

  We rose nearly in unison.

  “That was fast,” I whispered to Ben as we gathered our things, both of us smiling.

  “This is good, very good, exactly what I hoped for. It’s his job to be fair and unbiased, and it’s so deeply ingrained in judges, I’m surprised he let it go this far. Thankfully, he’s not interested in entertaining any more of her requests.”

  “No—he seems to be more interested in throwing her out of court. His wife is gonna be pissed.”

  We shared a quiet chuckle, turning for the exit without thought.

  Momentarily, I’d forgotten that Maisie was right there, right in this very room with me. It had slipped my mind that I could not, under any circumstance, look directly at her for fear that everyone in the room would know every word in my heart, every moment, every kiss that had passed between us.

  And that mistake nearly cost me when I found her standing before me.

  She was close enough to smell the sweet gardenia soap she was so fond of, walking behind her mother and Thompson as they marched toward the door. But for a protracted moment, we laid eyes on each other with bald honesty, our defenses gone and the truth prone and exposed.

  And the enemy pounced.

  “Margaret,” her mother said, sharp as a razor.

  Evelyn stood in the aisle, her face a mask of impassivity but for her accusatory eyes, twin coals flaming in her skull.

  She’d made no demand with words, but Maisie’s name and Evelyn’s tone directed her to get the fuck out of the room.

  Maisie scuttled toward the exit without another look in my direction.

  Evelyn dragged a long gaze up and down my body as if she were seeing me for the first time. It was not salacious but scrutinizing, that gaze, and I rose beneath it to meet her.

  “What a show,” she said blithely. “I didn’t believe you’d put up a real fight, Mr. Bennet. Color me impressed. But I hope you don’t get too comfortable. I’d hate for you to be disappointed.”

  “The look on your face when you lose will be enough payment to last me a lifetime.”

  A humorless laugh left her, and in her unpleasant joy, I caught a glimpse of Maisie as if in a fun house mirror, warped and stretched and distorted. “You seem to forget the repository of weapons I have at my disposal. I believe you’re smart enough to know I’ll use them.”

  Awareness climbed up my spine, raising every hair on its way up my neck. Maisie. But she couldn’t mean Maisie. She couldn’t possibly know.

  Unless she’d really seen us just now.

  I brushed the thought away. If she suspected, she wouldn’t be covert. She’d have detonated on the spot.

  But I reminded her of one thing that had everything to do with Maisie, whether she knew it or not.

  “If you think I’ll let you ruin one more good thing in the
world, you’re mistaken.”

  An indifferent shrug, a twisted smile. “I’ll win either way. Shame you won’t be able to save yourself.” With that, she turned and strode out of the courtroom, and I let her go without another word.

  Feeding that particular beast would only make it hungrier. And when I finally chose to battle her, I would end it once and for all.

  Ben sighed. “She never quits, does she?”

  “No. And I have a bad feeling things are about to get much worse.”

  He frowned, but I didn’t elaborate as we exited the courtroom. Down the hall, Evelyn and Thompson had their heads together. Maisie sat on the bench next to them like a child told to be quiet and wait until the grown ups were finished. The second I caught her eye, she jerked her chin to the hallway under the restroom sign.

  “I’ll catch you later, Ben,” I said.

  His eyes narrowed, and when he sighed, it was clear that he knew. “Be careful,” was all he said before turning and walking out, being sure to take the route that kept him away from the Bowers.

  And I ducked into the hallway and out of sight.

  It was the closest thing to privacy that we could have, and I leaned against the wall with my hands in my pockets as if I were waiting for someone to exit the restrooms, just in case her mother followed.

  Maisie rounded the corner with a placid look on her face, but the second she was out of their sight, she rushed over, snagged my hand, and dragged me into the men’s restroom.

  I blinked, grateful it was empty.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I only have a second, but, oh God, Marcus … I think she knows.”

  “No—I don’t think she’d be able to keep it together if she knew. But she might suspect.” I cupped her jaw in my hands, tilting her face up to search it. “What do you want to do?”

  The wrinkle between her brows made me feel sick to my stomach.

  You will ruin this girl, you selfish son of a bitch.

  “I … I don’t know.”

  “Do you still want to come over?”

  “God, yes. I’ll be over as soon as I can get away. She’s going back to work, but I took the day. Shouldn’t be too hard to get to you.”

 

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