"You see, Beverly and I are not really lesbians,” she explained.
"You're not?” Allison asked, confused.
"No, you see we were just two roommates who got really close. We were both going through difficult times, and we needed each other. Beverly is very special to me, but I'm in love with a man. Beverly is too.” Angela revealed.
"It's okay, Beverly. You're in love with Justin. I can see it in your eyes. You used to look like that with me, and now you look at Justin like that."
"I'm in love with him.” Beverly told her, tearfully.
"And I'm in love with him.” Angela turned and kissed Joe.
"In love with who?” Allison demanded. “Jesus, you young people are enough to drive a mother crazy!” She stormed over to the bar and chugged another scotch. The room was silent for a tense moment. Allison shook her head at her daughter. “So, does this Justin play tennis?"
* * * *
The constant rocking of the houseboat made Michael sick to his stomach. He could barely take it anymore, but had to stay at least until it got dark. He had no idea where he was going to go, and what he was going to do. It still had not fully hit him that he had actually done it to his sister. All the years of pent up rage had just simply exploded and now there was no looking back. He was a fugitive on the loose, his cover blown. He couldn't go back to the hotel, and he couldn't go back to Booneville, so he just stayed put in some strange houseboat until he could decide what to do.
He paced anxiously back and fourth, punching his fist into his hand. Finally, he discovered a small map of California stuck under the steering wheel of the boat. He snatched it up and studied it. Mexico! Yes, that would be it; he would run away to Mexico, never to be seen again. He had heard that women were treated horribly by Mexican men, and he relished the thought of seeing the infamous ‘donkey show’ he had heard so much about. He would have no problem at all enjoying his ‘hobby’ South of the Border.
Then his thoughts drifted back to the events of the past few hours. After that asshole Jason had barged in on him, he sprinted out the door and down the beach. He had run until he got to the marina about a mile from the hotel. After he managed to find an unoccupied houseboat that was unlocked, he snuck in. Michael remained hidden for the whole day, and was thankful that the police had not looked for him there. He had to do it; he had to teach his dirty whore sister a lesson. The fury had been building up for years, and today was the straw that broke the camel's back. All weekend long he had to put up with her hanging out with Jason—towering, manly, FBI agent, Jason. ‘Jason this’ and ‘Jason that', he was all she talked about. Michael finally snapped. He hadn't intended to actually do it; he just wanted to hit her.
After she fell to the floor, she immediately got that scared look in her eyes—that same look of fear that every chick that he gave it to had. The stripper had it, so did Brianna, and some other little trash that he met last night.
He had wanted to go all the way, to kill Shauna too, but contained himself out of concern for his father. His rage and hatred knew no bounds, and he felt it growing inside him. Who the hell did that Jason shithead think he was? Pushing himself into his room and invading his privacy? Grabbing him and throwing him to the ground like he was a rag doll, just like Greg Anderson had done to him in high school. He had never harmed a man before, and he knew that he could not physically overpower Jason. He could not physically defend himself against Greg Anderson and the other jocks in high school.
Women were easy to hurt, fragile egos, tiny bones, weak bodies. It was an enjoyment to make them suffer. Men, on the other hand, were different. Men were more difficult to get to. Men were a challenge. Men were strong. Michael crept over to a window and cautiously peered out. He saw a tall, athletic-looking man walking along the dock with a pretty young woman. She carried a picnic basket and gazed up at him lovingly, the same way April York had gazed at Greg Anderson, and the same way that Shauna has gazed at Jason. Women did not gaze at Michael that way; they reserved that look for the big, handsome, rugged guys. The man and woman boarded a sailboat and took off down the marina, but not before engaging in a passionate, loving kiss.
Michael sneered and yanked the curtains closed. Why was Jason defending the enemy? Michael hated men as much as he hated women, but he was skinny, shorter than most, and there was nothing he could do. He wished he could meet up with Greg Anderson and teach him a lesson. He wanted to make him sorry. He deserved an apology from him. He had no idea where to find Greg Anderson, but for now, Jason would have to do.
Michael rummaged around the kitchen area of the boat, looking for something to get his hands on. Like a crazed maniac, he threw open a drawer and found a collection of steak knives. Grinning, he jerked the drawer from its hinges and knocked it down to the floor with a crash. He scoured the cutlery carefully, trying not to cut his own fingers in the process. Then he found it, and it was perfect. He held up a six inch, stainless steel butcher knife. Michael held it up and glared at it, the metal gleaming in the ray of sunlight peeking through the crack in the curtain. He smiled broadly. He was going to get revenge. It was finally payback time. As soon as it got dark, he was going to get the apology that he so well deserved. Before he left for Mexico, Jason Bell was going to be very sorry he fucked with Michael Peterson.
* * * *
He thought he heard a knock at the door, but he was sure it was just a dream. Donnie opened his eyes and groggily looked at the clock, the red digital numbers blinked 5:46. His head was pounding and he was still dizzy from all the alcohol he had consumed. After he cleaned out the mini bar of it's contents, he promptly passed out. Donnie staggered out of bed and went to the window. The sky was starting to turn a burnt orange color, which would indicate that it was late afternoon. His mouth was sticky and dry and he lurched into the bathroom, where he splashed cold water on his face.
The events of the past couple of hours were slowly coming back to him now. He had come back to his room to collect his family and make a hasty exit back to Mississippi. It would be dark soon, and he could slip away unnoticed into the night.
"Lilly? Shelly?” he called out. Those two bitches were still gone? There was another knock at the door.
"Donnie? Donnie?” a male voice called. Donnie retreated into the bathroom, not about to answer the door. After a few minutes, the knocking stopped. He knew it was the police coming after him, and had to find the girls and leave this minute. They were probably going to get a search warrant, and they would come breaking down the door soon.
He had no choice, he had to set out and find Lilly and Shelly. Man, were they going to get the beating of their lives when he found them. He found his orange farmer's hat and planted it firmly on his head, covering his face, and carefully opened the door. He peered down the hallway and noticed it was empty, with the exception of a uniformed maid pushing her cart along. Donnie stepped out into the hall and quietly shut the door behind him. Keeping his head low, he began his search by wandering down the hall.
* * * *
Lilly did as she was told, to stay in Andrew's room and not to open the door for any reason whatsoever. They told her that they had to find her father, that something serious had happened and they did not want her to be in any danger.
She sat watching television, something her father never allowed her to do. After a while, she became bored and thirsty. She helped herself to the mini bar, as Andrew told her she was welcome to do, and took out a Coke. Unfortunately, it was warm and there was no ice. Remembering there was an ice machine down by the elevator, she took the empty ice bucket and headed for the door. She hesitated for a moment. Andrew told her not to open that door under any circumstances.
Oh well, she thought. She was only going to get some ice and was coming right back. Lilly opened the door and began to saunter out. It was at that moment that Donnie had turned the corner. Both suddenly froze, making eye contact. Lilly, still holding the ice bucket, was too terrified to move. Donnie's face turned bright red. He reached out an a
ngry hand and grabbed his daughter's hair. He pulled her from the doorway hard, almost lifting her off the ground. Lilly yipped in anguish, dropping the ice bucket to the floor.
"You God fucking, little piece of shit, whore slut bitch.” he snarled in her terrified face.
"Let me go!” Lilly cried. Showing a sudden burst of bravery, she smacked her father in the face, knocking his orange farmer's cap off his head. “Don't you touch me.” she shouted and tried to break free, but he held her firmly.
"Fuck you, little cunt.” he spat at her and slapped her hard in the face, sending her crashing to the floor. “Now I'm really gonna make a believer out of ya'."
She began to shake and cry. He dragged her by the hair back to his room. Once there he grabbed his tattered duffel bag and shoved his personal belongings in it. “Stay there. If you move, I'll break your neck.” he barked at her, pointing to the bed. She sat down, crying softly.
Donnie finished stuffing all of his things in his bag, and then grabbed Lilly by the arm, yanking her up. “We are goin’ for a little walk and find Shelly. Then we are goin’ home. Then you are gonna get the whippin’ of your life!” he spoke sharply.
Lilly stared at the floor, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. What was she going to do now?
CHAPTER 16
As the Velvet Room began to prepare the Farewell Dinner, John and Joe were sipping cocktails and relaxing by the pool. The sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean, turning the sky into a breathtaking, pink luminance. Angela and Beverly decided to take a pre-dinner stroll on the beach and disappeared down the deck stairs.
Paul and Cindy strolled by the pool, arm-in-arm. She smiled and waved at them.
"Hey, Joe.” Cindy smiled.
"Hi, Cindy. I see you got to know my cousin Paul.” he teased her, winking.
"Oh, yes. Let's just say the service at this hotel is stupendous.” Paul grinned at her.
"Well, I gotta run and get ready for the dinner crowd. See ya'.” Cindy kissed Paul on the cheek and sauntered off, her skirt fluttering in the cool breeze.
Paul pulled up a chair and began to chill out with his cousin and uncle. A waitress approached, Paul ordered a White Russian, and Joe ordered a Bud. John stared out at the ocean while his son and nephew discussed the details of Paul's night with Cindy.
John's thoughts drifted to Shauna. There had been no sign of Michael. Stephen was still recuperating and should not be told about this yet. John was grateful for the quick actions of Jason. He knew that the bright young man was going to take care of everything. For once, the responsibility was not on him. John had pulled strings and secured Shauna a suite next to his. She wanted to be alone and get some rest, but she did ask him to tell Jason where she was.
It was then that Jason appeared and ambled over to them. “Well, hello there, guy.” John held out his hand and Jason shook it genially.
"Hey, John. How goes it?” Jason responded, sliding a deck chair over to join them.
"Anything on Michael?” John asked. Jason moved in close to John, so nobody else could hear.
"We have a situation with Donnie McCoy. “What's going on?"
Jason shot a quick glance in Joe and Paul's direction. The two of them were laughing and making jokes, unaware that Jason had even sat down next to John. Jason leaned in.
"We found his wife's body this afternoon. She had been strangled to death.” Jason explained.
John gave him an outraged look. “Jesus. I'm sorry that happened, but I'm very grateful for you being here. I don't know what my family would have done if you hadn't been here.” John told him sincerely.
"Hey, I'm just doing my job.” Jason smiled. It was just then that Andrew and Justin arrived on the scene. Jason introduced his father and twin to John.
John knew immediately who Andrew Bell was. “Mr. Bell, I'm a big fan. I loved your book American Crime.” John shook the black man's hand. “Please sit down and have a drink with us."
"Thank you, Mr. Peterson.” Andrew smiled politely and sat down next to his son.
"Please, call me John.” he smiled.
As Andrew and John male bonded, Jason turned to his brother. “Any sign of him?” Jason asked.
"No sign of either one. Be patient though, it's getting dark. They can't be far.” Justin said.
The sun disappeared over the ocean, and the twinkling hotel lights came on. A seagull landed on the railing of the deck, and Paul tossed a piece of ice at it, scaring it away. He and Joe sat drinking and discussing old times. John and Andrew were blabbing on about police work. Justin and Jason just kicked back and stared out at the ocean knowing that once night fell, they were going to have their hands full.
* * * *
Beverly and Angela watched as the orange sun vanished behind the horizon, and the full moon lit up the sky over the sea. They stood on the beach, silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. Finally Angela broke the awkward quiet.
"So, I guess you are back in the family now.” she smiled.
"Yes, you too.” Beverly said.
"Nah, I was never a part of your family.” Angela shook her head and kicked at some seaweed that had washed up on shore.
"Oh yes, you were. You were my family for three years—three wonderful years.” Beverly smiled.
"It was wonderful, wasn't it?” Angela held back tears. “I just didn't think it would end this way."
"We fell in love this weekend. We didn't plan it, it just happened.” Beverly gently held Angela's face in her hands. “It was time for us to go our separate ways this summer anyway."
"I think I'm going to live in L.A. with Joe for the summer. He asked me if I would; I told him I'd think about it.” Angela revealed. The two girls stood close, the waves crashing along the sand, barely missing them. “What are you going to do about Justin?"
"I don't know. He's going back to Philly tomorrow. He lives in New York with his brother. Maybe we'll have a long distance relationship.” Beverly sighed.
"Do you know how many social workers are needed in New York?” Angela laughed.
"He hasn't asked me to go to New York with him.” Beverly shook her head and kicked at a seashell. It was starting to get chilly, the ocean breeze cool. The girls were getting goose bumps.
"He will, he's in love with you, too.” Angela said knowingly.
"How do you know?” Beverly protested.
"Because I've been there, I know what falling in love with Beverly Collins is like.” she said with a slight giggle. The girls began to stroll back in the direction of the hotel.
"Would you move to New York for Justin?” Angela asked. Beverly looked pensive. “Bev?"
"I don't know, maybe. I'm just going to wait and see what happens tonight,” she said. They continued to amble along the sand, toward the lights of the hotel and the sounds of the guests having a good time doing various things. They could barely make out the family sitting around the pool, as they approached the deck.
Beverly turned to face Angela. “Angela."
"Yes?"
"I just want you to know, I will always have fond memories of what happened between us. What we shared was beautiful, and I'll never regret loving you.” Beverly told her softly, touching her cheek.
"Me neither.” Angela said.
The two of them paused in the sweetness of the moment, then something unusual caught Angela's eye. She spied something off in the distance—a scrawny little man coming toward the hotel, but from the other direction.
"Hey, is that your weird cousin? Shauna's brother?” Angela pointed off in that vicinity. Beverly turned and strained her eyes. It was indeed Michael, stomping through the sand from the direction of the marina. Beverly felt the goose bumps become more pronounced on her arms. She knew Jason wanted to apprehend him because of what he did to Shauna.
"Shit!” she exclaimed. “It is him.” The girls bounded up to the pool deck to inform the boys.
* * * *
Andrew was very flattered that John asked him for an autographed copy of
his book. He never left home without one, just in case. Andrew left his sons downstairs as he headed to his room. It was almost dinnertime, and he wanted to check on Lilly anyway. He hoped the girl had gotten some sleep. He planned on ordering her room service. He felt the longer she stayed hidden, the safer she would be. As he drew near his hotel room, he was dumfounded to discover that the door was wide open, and there was an empty ice bucket in the doorway.
He bolted inside. “Lilly?” he called out.
To his dismay, he found the room empty, no sign of the girl. “Lilly?” It was then that Andrew glanced down at the floor in the corridor. He spied a dirty, orange fishing cap. He picked it up and examined it. Turning it over, he looked at the inside, and there was a little tag sticking out of the lining. It said ‘Rebel Boys Hat Co. Jackson, Mississippi.’ Andrew's blood turned to ice. Donnie had her.
He put the cap into a drawer, locked the door to his room, and went downstairs to find his son.
* * * *
Donnie could not wait any longer. He figured that Shelly had taken the bus back to Mississippi. It was time for them to leave pronto. If Shelly wanted to run off then fine, fuck her. “Come on gal, trains’ a movin'.” He seized Lilly in one hand and his duffel bag in the other.
They headed quickly down the fire stairs, avoiding the elevator. Donnie had a tight grip on Lilly's arm, leaving handprints. Once in the lobby, Donnie stopped cold. Standing right there were Andrew, Jason, and Justin. Lilly tried in vain to call out to them, but Donnie firmly planted his hand over her mouth.
Donnie backed into a corner and watched as they scanned the lobby, looking for them no doubt. They were trapped, the only exit was on the other side of the lobby. Lilly wiggled and squirmed, trying to free herself from his grip.
"Stay still, girl. I mean it,” he whispered.
Knowing this was the fight of her life; Lilly decided it was now or never. With every ounce of strength she had, she bit down hard on his hand, and he recoiled in pain.
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