Melissa (Daughters Series, #3)

by Leanne Davis

  Her gaze rips into me and her lip snarls up. “Yeah, I do, Seth. Lots of it. Only no one can provide it to me. So I doubt you’d be any more successful than the rest of the people in my life. Now leave before your skinny ass gets kicked to shit. Not on me if it does. I warned you.” She steps backward, pulling her arm free of my gentle grip.

  “Why would my ass get kicked from having a three–minute conversation with you? Seems like a great crowd, Missy. Enjoy your new friends.” Several feet separate us now. I smile and softly add just as I’m turning away, “I’ll be sure to let Will know where you are.”

  As I start to edge around the warehouse, I’m trying to avoid going back through it and encountering the few members who linger inside. I have no idea about the story or the reputation surrounding this place but I also have no desire to find out. Footsteps thump after me. Weary of my discomfort and anxious to avoid violence, I turn around quickly. Melissa runs up to me.

  “You can’t tell my dad. He’ll come after me.”

  “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

  “How do you figure? Does this look like the kind of place where the people would respond well to my dad’s intolerant and loud contempt towards them? He could get hurt.”

  “Then come with me. Otherwise, it’ll be Will. And that’s on you, Missy.”

  I whip back around, my threat fully stated, and head towards my Jeep. Then I hear her following me. She scowls hard at me as she tucks herself into the passenger side and slams the door shut to punctuate her glare and reproach. “You would risk my father’s wellbeing just to be right?”

  I start the Jeep and glance around, making sure no one is running after us, or planning to mow us down in order to get Melissa. It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s exactly what she wants. “No, you would be doing that. You’re the one who insists on being here. I’d just be telling them your location. Your mother came up to my place today and interrupted my studying. She was beside herself with anxiety over you. Worried sick. So you know what? Save your poor Melissa crap for someone else. I don’t buy it.”

  She huddles against the door. A few miles of darkness slide by. Finally, she mutters, “I never said it was poor me.”

  “Every single thing you do, or should I point out more accurately, don’t do, is because of that poor Melissa complex you have, which you fully exaggerate and milk dry.”

  “Just shut up, Seth. You got your way. I’m here. On my way home, for now at least, anyway.”

  Ah, and she’s right back to the Melissa I recall best. “What does that mean?”

  “He’s going to kick me out anyway. You heard him.”

  “Your dad? I highly doubt that. But FYI, your parents are fighting over you. I witnessed some of it. So you might want to consider that at your next pity party. But perhaps he is correct. You don’t do anything. What is he supposed to think?”

  Silence. We’re done here. I get that. But she’s so odd. Why the cryptic comments on Sunday that almost had me believing there was more to her than she lets on? Then disappearing for four days, so I surmise she was devastated by the confrontation with her dad.

  “He’s supposed to be my father. You don’t have to understand. You don’t have to get me, but he’s supposed to.”

  I desperately cannot fathom what her father doesn’t understand about her. Is there some deep–seated problem she has or suffers from to account for her abnormal behavior? I don’t think there is. I believe I’d know something about it before now. I know a lot about her family’s history, which was told to me by my mom who heard it all from Jessie’s lips. Perhaps they would be surprised at how much I know, but my mom made me promise I would never tell anyone before she told me. And as for Melissa? None of their tragedy applies to her. There was a rape in her mom’s history as well as rape and domestic violence in her aunt’s. Even Will’s history is more well–known. He witnessed Jessie’s rape and rescued her, and their relationship started then. I knew it was something that affected them both deeply. Maybe also Christina and Natalie, the daughter who was conceived during Jessie’s rape and given up for adoption. I provided Christina with all the information she needed to find Natalie. I hacked into stuff I shouldn’t have to help Christina, but I never regretted it. Melissa never suffered from anything that could possibly account for her completely messed–up personality.

  She has no excuse for being a lazy piece of crap who hangs around her parents’ house and blames them for why she can’t make anything of herself. My brief flash of worry and feeling sorry for her is gone now that she’s next to me. I can’t see any excuse for her crappy behavior and taste in men, and honestly? She just refuses to work. Who doesn’t work or go to school or thinks they’re entitled to retire once they’re out of high school?

  I don’t have a lot of respect for her.

  “Is Will supposed to understand the biker? What are they anyway? Some kind of drug runners? A white supremacist group? What?”

  She rolls her eyes. I see her sneering as a few random house lights along the road pass over her face. “No. People can ride bikes and make a club out of it without being delinquents or convicts or, my God! White supremacists? Do you really think I’d hang out in something like that?”

  “Honestly? I have no idea what you would or would not do.”

  “Well, I would not hang out with any kind of hate group. God!” she screeches at me. I sigh. I really don’t know what she’s capable of. By having her with me, I can start to repay Will and Jessie for some of their kindness. I have to remind myself I care a lot more about them than I do about the girl next to me.

  We pull in, and my headlights flash over the front of her house. I park in the covered drive–through that leads to the front door. Snow starts to fall just then, catching in my headlights that are shining into the night. “Don’t tell them, you know, about Anand and the bikers.”

  “Is he an actual boyfriend or just someone you sleep with?”

  “Boyfriend.”

  “And where is your cell phone, honestly? Did your not–so–friendly biker take it?”

  Her gaze settles on me, and one eyebrow rises in surprise. “Okay. Fine. He might have.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugs, sliding her glance out the window. “I don’t know. I mean, I told him I was sick of my family contacting me. So he took it, claiming, you know, he’d just hold onto it.”

  “And it doesn’t occur to you to ask for it back?”

  Her profile is to me. “I did.”

  “And he didn’t give it back to you?”

  “No.”

  “Why the hell does someone like that appeal to you? I don’t get your desire to be controlled by someone. Don’t you know you deserve better? You’re your own person and if he doesn’t respect you, then run away, fast. I know your parents taught you that, so what exactly are you doing with this guy?”

  “Like everyone else, just trying to figure myself out. Where I belong, what I want. All that.”

  “And a controlling jerk is the best answer you could find?”

  “I left with you, didn’t I? I’m not some kind of helpless victim tied to him. So don’t you dare go to my parents and say I am. Stay out of it. I wish you stayed out of all of this. I was punishing them, okay? I knew they’d worry. Four days without even a text? Even I’m not that careless about checking in. So Dad deserved it. I wanted them to be in pain and see what it’s like without me. Maybe they would realize that having me here as I am is better than not having me at all.”

  Stunned, I stare at her. Still she doesn’t turn her head towards me. Is she really that cold? Selfish? Calculating? Horrible? I can’t think of another way to describe her. Who acts like that? I almost liked her better when I believed she was too flaky to improve herself. This is just mean for no decent reason.

  “Get out, Missy. Go out and play your miserable head games on people who have to live with it, because I sure as heck don’t.”

  Chapter Four

  ~Melissa~

&
nbsp; I don’t mean a word of it but I say it anyway. I grab the door handle by feel and pull on it, efficiently ejecting myself from his old Jeep. He shifts gears and takes off, harder and faster than he should have for the short distance to park in front of the apartment. My dad’s shop is below it. It’s where he keeps all his tools for his business, as well as hobbies. He runs his own HVAC installation and service company.

  Now Seth thinks the worst. I never intended to be gone four days. Anand took my phone and would not give it back to me. He refused to give me a ride back home too. The first night, sure, I wanted to vanish. I called Anand from the end of our long driveway and told him I wanted to go with him. He arrived an hour after it got dark and we took off. Talk about freezing. I wasn’t dressed for it. Being outside with damp hair already, I was practically frozen solid to begin with. We went to his place. He lives with his mother. She doesn’t comment on what he does and he doesn’t give a shit over what she sees him doing. He’s actually pretty crappy to her. Maybe I should take that as a warning. But I don’t. He’s demanding, bossy, and dominant. And hot too. Big muscles, long hair, and all tatted up. He looks like trouble. But I want that kind of trouble.

  What’s the main appeal? Sex. He’s big and rough and I like doing it with him. He’s different than anyone else in my usual world. Another plus. He’s so exciting that he leaves me feeling breathless that I managed to survive him; just as I feel after I ride on the back of his bike. When I enter a place with him, people look up and notice. Girls stare at me with visible envy. Men’s eyes spark with appreciation. And I eat it up. I crave all of it. It feeds something that’s always gnawing away inside me. It is lacking and unattractive in its desperate greed for male approval.

  And I know it’s not because I didn’t get enough love from my dad. I consider my dad and the guys I entertain as completely separate entities. But they also satiate something inside me. I take criticism way too hard. That’s ironic, considering how often my actions beg for reproach.

  My heart swells in my chest as I realize that Seth came after me tonight. I was nothing less than shocked to glance up and see him standing there. His entry inside the warehouse had to take some guts, which I never expected from Seth. I wouldn’t have entered this place without someone beside me who was part of the club. So I’m more than amazed he did. I’m surprised he could even find me.

  I also enjoy Anand because he always has drugs. Whatever the reason for that, I don’t pursue it or even care to know. Until today, I’ve been pretty high and out of my mind. There is nothing like it. Floating out of my body and far away from being Melissa. I don’t think there is a better sensation than getting out of my head. I doubt anyone would enjoy the inside of my brain. It’s… so wrong. There’s something definitely wrong with my mind. But words can’t really explain it. I can’t articulate it. All of it is so foggy and disjointed, even in the things I do. Impulsive? That’s me, and worse than any child.

  But the drugs make me feel almost normal. Anand has access to lots of different kinds of pills. I don’t ask many questions; I just enjoy them. And him. So when he takes my phone, I don’t care much at that point, so it isn’t like what Seth is thinking. And yeah, he’s a little controlling and rough and all that, but nothing I can’t handle. Or stop wanting. It’s kind of hot being on the receiving end of Anand’s possessiveness.

  Seth has a lanky build, and wears clothes that are baggier than necessary. He slouches too. I think he might be surprisingly ripped with muscles, but I’m honestly not sure. He has dishwater blond hair, neither too brown or too blond, and hazel eyes and he wears glasses. Nothing and nobody affect him and he does not care what people think of him. He is his own person and that becomes very apparent in the way he interacts with and presents himself to the world. He is also extraordinarily smart. So smart, he should do something important, unusual or innovative with it. He could discover a cure for some rare disease or develop a new super–app that would change the technological world. I don’t know, I’m not even smart enough to imagine what smart people should do with themselves. I just know he’s one of them. Gifted and exceptional.

  There is something else about him. I can’t quite call it attraction, or chemistry, at least not in the traditional sense of how I usually sense it. But there is something special about him. I usually succeed in seeking out his attention, but in all the wrong ways. Tonight, however, I didn’t. No. Never. I wouldn’t have dreamed of drawing Seth to the Black Warlocks’ headquarters. I know better. He could have been… poorly received. Especially by Anand. I claimed he was my brother and Anand doesn’t know enough about my family to realize I don’t have any brothers. Or three sisters either, for that matter. That’s not the thing we share or what we’re about. I’m not even sure if he’d admit to being my boyfriend.

  I slip my key in the lock and enter my parents’ house. They are both in there, and their heads whip up from watching a movie together. They both stand up, and Mom gasps. She rushes forward and embraces me. She’s shorter than me by half a head but still, she embraces me tightly and with authority. Then she leans back and all but slaps me. Raising her hand, she quickly lowers it. “Where the hell have you been? Do you realize the atrocities I’ve been picturing? The various kinds of death I’ve agonized over that you could have suffered? Why would you not at least let me know you’re okay? Or at the very minimum, why didn’t you answer even one of my texts?”

  I don’t want to do this. I’m tired and haven’t slept much in the days I was gone. I’ve taken too many substances and not eaten enough food or even drunk enough water. Suddenly, my throat burns up with thirst. How long has it been? I just want to drink plain water. I lift my head, and see Dad standing back from Mom with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s not rushing forward to embrace me. Maybe half of what I told Seth is true. Maybe I did want to punish Dad. Let him realize he should be glad I’m alive and well, even if I’m not perfect. Okay, far from it. But still, I should matter to him just because I’m here. Right?

  Except his lips don’t even flinch or flicker. He’s still pissed. And not nearly as worried as Mom is.

  “I lost my phone.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Dad scoffs from behind us. Mom whips around, an angry look on her face to silently demand he be quiet. Dad shakes his head. “So what? You can’t figure out any other way to contact us? A friend’s phone? A stranger’s phone? I don’t know… What about a pay phone? Really, you couldn’t find some way to let your mom know you’re not dead?”

  “Will. Stop it.”

  Dad drops his hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me. After all the guilt I was feeling, worrying that I went too far when I reprimanded you over another lost job, and you can’t contact us because you lost your phone again? Yeah, I’m so wrong about you. You see this, Jessie? Your daughter, in all her glory.” He snorts and shakes his head.

  I have no idea what to say. My mouth is open. I don’t know this man. He’s not my father. Not like this. Why is he being so awful? So… so… not my dad?

  “Will!” Mom yells at him, her face pale with shock as well.

  “No. Don’t ‘Will’ me,” he exclaims angrily to my mom. My dad stalks forward until he’s right in my face. “Where were you, Melissa? For four days, where were you? Working? Well, gee, I doubt that. We know that’s a big fat no. At school? Again no. Never. Friends? Maybe. Except we checked with every single one of them that you’ve known for the last ten years. No one saw or heard from you. So I figure wherever you were and whoever you were with isn’t good. Where were you?”

  I lick my lips. That isn’t what I expected. I expected Mom’s reaction. Not… definitely not my dad’s. I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t confirm his accusations and agree that he’s completely right, so I don’t respond. I drop my head down, shuffle my feet, and shrug.

  “I won’t stand here and sanctify this any longer. You’ve had two years. Two years I’ve begged and pleaded and tried to be supportive as you found your damn way in this world. Don’t exclu
de the lifetime I tried to provide for you until then.”

  Mom whips around and shoves Dad. I react by taking a step backwards. She shakes her head and literally screams at my dad, “You sound like him. That’s just how my father spent years talking to me. Shut up. Shut the fuck up, Will. You will not talk to my daughter that way.”

  My head jerks up and my jaw drops. I’ve never heard my mother scream at my dad like that. He doesn’t back down either, for once. Every other time I’ve witnessed him upsetting her, he usually softens his stance, his demeanor, and his words. Not this time.

  He rolls his eyes. Rolls his eyes at my mom’s distress. “You’re overreacting, Jessie. Not a new occurrence for me though, is it? And I’m not even close to being like that fucking shitface. How dare you compare me to him? So don’t even go there. Not about this. And you know what? I don’t think I suck at being a father, because I have two other daughters who aren’t like Melissa.” He waves his hand towards me as if to make sure my mom realizes I am the example of what not to be. Fiery heat engulfs my cheeks. Without another word, he heads for the back door.

  My mom goes after him. “Where do you think you’re going? You can’t run out right in middle of this.”

  “Out of here. You don’t need me. You’ll let her stay, as always. You’ll let her say how sorry she is and manipulate you into being the victim one more time. Poor little Missy. Can’t even get through the day.” He shakes his head, his gaze piercing my mom’s heart. He advances at her suddenly and takes her shoulders in his hands. Then his voice softens. It sounds like a private moment between them, but I’m right there too, witnessing all of it. “She isn’t you, Jessie. She isn’t the twenty–year–old you were. Don’t let her do this anymore. You let yourself think she is like you. But she’s not. Do you get me? She wasn’t traumatized and there isn’t anything she suffered beyond all the normal mistakes any parent makes. There is no damn reason she can’t be doing something decent with her life. You had real reasons. Big reasons. So don’t you dare compare me to your father, or your first twenty years of existence to hers.”