by Delia Steele
I slam the door and stomp across the yard, kicking their welcome sign as I go. Once in my car, I jam it in Drive and stomp the gas, throwing rocks all over Clay’s truck in the process. I refuse to live this way anymore. Hitting the highway, I push the gas down and turn the radio wide open. Leaving Atlanta the same way I came in.
(Clay)
“What the hell was that?” I ask, looking wide-eyed at Rome.
“Man, I hate it, but something has been up her ass the last few visits, and right now is not the time to unleash all that crazy on my wife. I won’t sit back and let her treat Rory badly because she has some anal shit going on back home.”
I shake my head because I don’t know what to say. I have never seen Mando like that. I have never seen her so unnerved. “I understand. I am so sorry she did that. Especially in front of the kids” It’s all I know to say or do. I wish I knew what the fuck just happened.
“Wait… Did she just leave me?” I ask no one in particular. “That whole outburst was crazy, and she…I…we…” I just stop and let the tears fall. I may be a man, but she just left here and took my heart with her. What am I supposed to do now?
“Clay, it’s not your fault, honey. She has something going on, and we need to be patient with her. She is strong, and it’s going to be tough, but she has to come to us. We can’t push her.” Leave it to Rory to have a family crisis, yet still find time to console me. “It’s not your fault. Just give her time.”
I wipe at my tear-streaked face. “I feel like I am losing her to something or someone. I just don’t know what or who!” I break down again. I can’t help it. Mando is the only girl I have ever given my heart to. She doesn’t know it, but she is the only girl I have ever made love to. I would do anything for her.
“I know Clay, but we won’t lose her. We can’t.”
Chapter Four
The whole drive home passes in a haze. I can’t help but think about how often everyone stops and runs to Rory’s side. They act as if she is weak. Reality is: there is nothing weak about her. That girl is the strongest person I’ve ever known. I hate myself for feeling this way, but it’s a spiral I can’t seem to shake. I fly across the bridge, back into our small town, and head towards the house. I don’t want to stay there, but Gran needs her space. I get that. She has a life, and I need to regroup anyway. I have laundry to do and a report to fill out so mama actually believes I did the work. I won’t lie…a few times, while crossing the bridge, I consider just soaring over the railing…but I don’t. Instead, I crank up “Wrecking Ball.”
It makes me want to scream, knowing everyone thinks I have this picture perfect life. So I do. I scream. And why? Because it frustrates me that all people see is that I come from wealth; though, they haven’t a clue how we got it. People think just because I don’t struggle to eat, or lack of clothing and other amenities, that I don’t have problems. That’s a lie. I struggle everyday with who I am because of the money we have. I don’t care about the noise coming from my mouth or the tears coming from my eyes. I sing my heart out at the top of my lungs. She sings for a lost love; I sing for a lost soul.
Sitting at a red light, I look over, and beside me in a minivan with two small children, sits a mother with her face drawn in disgust and anger at my crazy-bitch-behind-the-wheel behavior. The rage in my gut gets the best of me, and I scream at her.
“What’s your problem, you stupid-ass, uppity-ass, judgmental, canker sore? I like Miley! Get over it, or go eat a fucking dick or something.” Not caring about the red light, I stomp the gas and zip off, leaving the mouth-agape mother looking like a stagnate flycatcher.
Punching the code on the community gate, I watch the gate open and wonder if there is enough power in it to crush me and my car when it shuts back. The thought goes as fast as it comes, and I slide my golden carriage through the gates of Hell, in the direction of Casa Riaz.
Inside, I find the house quiet, which is good. I’d rather not see anyone right now. I grab water from the kitchen and make my way up the stairs with my overnight bag dragging by a strap behind me. I will regret it later—as this is my favorite sparkly pink carry all—but right now, I don’t care. I just need sleep. Once inside my room, I drop the bag by the door and kick it shut. I strip down to nothing but a tank top and panties while I mope around and mouth more “Wrecking Ball.” I stop and stare at my nightstand. I don’t remember putting a liquor bottle there, yet there it sits, begging me to love it. So. I. Do.
I open my eyes to a bright light warming my face. I must have slept through the night because the sun is up, and it’s being a nuisance. The birds outside my window are practically screaming, and the noise down the hall is even louder. Why must people make me ill as soon as I wake up? Wrapping the pillow around my head and groaning in contempt, I roll out of bed with a scowl on my face. I jerk the door open as hard as I can, anger filling me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, not to mention the raging, liquor-induced headache I’m sporting. I don’t care what’s so important they feel the need to scream. It’s nine in the morning by my new MK watch, and that is way too fucking early to be carrying on as if you’re trying out for the next lead on Broadway in some opera.
By the time I reach my dad’s office door, I can already tell it’s about his bogus job ventures. Some loser must be trying to use his product instead of sell it. I hit the door with my fist balled up.
“Hey, hold it down! You aren’t the only person in this damn house, you freaking asshole.” I stand my ground ready for Balt to open the door and scream. He has never liked me interfering in his business, but it’s my house too, damn it. With a jerk of the door, he is looming over me.
“Is there something I can do for you, child?” I move my gaze slowly up his body until I reach his eyes. The rage in his matches the fury in mine. With my hand on my hip and hate in my voice, I reply, “Yeah, actually, you can shut the fuck up screaming. I am sick, and you’re mouth is getting on my nerves.” I hold my ground, knowing cussing him is wrong, but he doesn’t deserve my respect. My Gran would slap the taste from my mouth for being disrespectful to a parent, but she doesn’t know just how bad it’s gotten here.
He actually scares me when he starts to laugh. It’s pure evil, and I almost cower down. However, I won’t give him that satisfaction. Once his laughter stops, he watches me, making me feel trapped.
“You are a child in my home, and you will do well to listen to me this time. Do not ever disrespect me again. I pay for this and everything else you have, you ungrateful, little, poor excuse for a daughter. If you step on my toes in this house or elsewhere, I will disown you and take everything you love from you. Your car, credit cards, that precious phone, and the clothes, Amandolette. I will strip you bare and throw you out on your ass with nothing. You will have to whore your body for money and live with your Gran out in that rat hole. Little Miss high-and-mighty harlot cast down from her thrown.” He watches me for a reaction, pissed at me and ready for a fight. I roll my eyes and turn, but not without speaking as I go.
“You can do all that, but don’t think I would care, Balthazar. Everything I love left me for Atlanta. Everything I need is already gone, so you can’t take away shit that I haven’t already lost. You have ruined me forever. The other shit in this house, all the things bought with your dirty money, means nothing to me without my soul. You’ve made sure as fuck I can’t ever appreciate what I see in the mirror. All the fancy shit in this world couldn’t hide the disgust I have inside me…for myself and for you.”
I make it almost back to my room before I hear them start up again. The yelling, the slam of someone against the wall, and the breaking of something expensive. The only thing that stops me is the voice I hear. It isn’t a rough voice or a smoke filled coughing voice; it’s a young innocent voice. I turn to head back in when the door jerks open and out steps a girl. The girl my mother hired at the diner to replace Rory when she moved. I don’t particularly care for her, but he has no business roughing her up in there. I snag h
er arm as she tries to run past me in tears.
“Angie, what’s wrong?” I ask. She shakes her head back and forth and pulls free to run. I snap my head back in the direction of the office door and see Balt watching. I can’t take this anymore. I am so sick of him running over people, especially females. I storm down the hallway on a seek-and-destroy mission.
“Why would you put your hands on her? What’d she ever do to you?” I scream as I approach him, ready to claw his eyes out when I get near enough. But I never get the chance. As I take the last step in reaching him, he does something he has never done to me. With a sound louder than thunder and a flash brighter than lightning, I’m out… A short time later, I’m jerked back into consciousness; and when I open my eyes, he is holding me off the ground. My feet aren’t even touching the floor. His breath is hot on my face, and his nose is touching mine. I can feel the anger rolling off of him and onto me.
“I don’t have to tell you shit, you little tramp. But know this, no one will use my product and not pay me. If her husband can’t pay the price owed, she will. I have tolerated your ways your whole life, and I’m done turning my cheek for you. You are an ungrateful little bitch. Just like your mother. Nothing I give you will ever be enough. You think I don’t know about you slumming with Chico and them scuzzies. I do everything I can to raise you up, but you are just like them. It’s where you belong. With the filth.”
I can’t stop the tear that rolls down my face. It hurts to know you’re hated. “But Rory is from there. You love her.” I don’t really know why I say it, but once it’s out, I can’t take it back.
“No, your mother loves her. I liked her because she made you look better. I helped her because she kept your mother off my back. She was a charity case. Somewhere else to claim the money. You and Rory are a perfect match, really. Pathetic little creatures that play at being strong. But you both depend on my money to survive. You’re nothing without me.”
Instead of setting me on my feet, Balt throws me into the wall across the hallway and walks away as I collapse to the floor. He never looks back to see if I get up. Never asks if I am OK. He just leaves. I sit and try to fathom the last fifteen minutes of my life. I always thought Balt hit my mom behind closed doors, but I could never prove it. I guess I have my proof now. If he will hit me—his own daughter—and then toss me aside, he will do anything. Standing and wiping my tears, I head back to my room. I need to get out of here. I don’t worry about washing my face or fixing my hair. I grab the first thing I see and pull it on as I run for the door. I jump in my car and head toward the park. Toward my Gran. But before I can make it to the sanctuary of Gran’s arms, I run into a problem. That problem being that I have to pass the liquor store on my way to the park. I know she’ll eat me alive if I show up on her front porch blitzed out of my mind, but right now, I need something to dull the pain.
I pull into a handicapped spot and grab my bag. I need a strong bottle—no cheap liquor today. As I enter the store and round the corner, I see the bottle I want. Cabo Wabo is a special occasion liquor. It’s beautiful—the short fat bottle with its blue accents. It’s the best tequila, and it’s calling my name. Its siren cry is more than I can resist. Knowing the dark mix will fuel my anger, I grab two bottles of the Cabo and head for the counter. I throw down a credit card and smile. Daddy Dearest is supplying my vice tonight. He can pay the band while I dance with the Devil.
I sit on the old van seat waiting for Chico to wake up. He should be a vampire with the schedule he keeps. I never see him during the day…ever.
“Ah, she returns, and she comes bearing gifts.” I don’t look up or acknowledge him. I turn my bottle up, appreciating the smooth, coffee taste of my Cabo. So smooth, I almost forget it’s alcohol as it glides down my throat.
“Want a drink?” I burp as I try to pass the bottle to him. “Balt got us the good shit, dude.” I blink a few times and try to focus on Chico’s blurred face.
“Damn, girl, how much you drink?” I smile and yawn at the same time.
“A lot!” I turn the bottle sideways to get a better look and realize there are only a few drops left in it. “I guess I drank all of this one, but I got us one to share.” I reach beside me and grab the other bottle. He snatches the bottle from me, earning a scowl.
“You don’t need any more, baby; you’re already a goner.” I let one tear escape before I get a hold on my emotions. He has no clue how far gone I really am.
I look around to see if anyone else has joined us, and all I see is one hippy guy smoking pot and trying to start the barrel fire. I turn to Chico. “Can I talk to you? It’s serious.” He doesn’t say a word, just motions for me to get up. He then pulls the old van seat further away and helps me stumble over to it. “I will always listen to you, Amandolette. I’ve always. . . Just talk, baby girl.” My cloudy mind can’t comprehend what he is really saying, but I need to get this out before it eats a hole from the inside out. “OK,” the tears start to pour after just one word. “You know Balt deals, so that’s no secret. But Chico, I think he deals on a level bigger than we can imagine. He may even be using his own product. He is changing for the worst. I mean, he has always been a condescending cockstar, but today, I heard him fighting with someone, and when I went into his office to tell him to stop screaming, he was beating on a girl. Angie, my mom’s employee. The girl from the back row here. But that’s not the worst part. When I confronted him, he did it to me, too. He has never hit me. He always doted on me growing up, until I figured out our source of money, that is. He loved me then, but now he calls me ugly names and hits me? I don’t understand how this is all happening. I am grown and getting beat on by the man who created me.” I cry harder and wipe at my runny nose. I’m sure I look like a hot mess right now.
“Mando, baby, I don’t know what to tell you. Balt’s always dealt with the big boys. I mean, I run for him, so I know where it comes from. I sell for him, so I know where it goes. If he’s ever caught, he could take down a lot of people and still possibly save his own ass. Sadly for you, he’s the big man here. He supplies the entire East Coast with their shit. And trust me, baby, you do not want to know what he stores in that house. Why you think you live behind three sets of gates, in a community built for the rich and powerful? Your pops is the only working person in the whole place. Surely you knew it was bigger than pot, yo?” I shake my head no. I never thought my father would deal outside of pot or maybe pills. Then again, I never thought he would physically harm me either.
“I hate my life, Chico. I just want to leave everything and run away. Yet I run to you. I left Atlanta and made it clear I was done with them all. I never want to go back. I just want to stay here forever. Where no one wants or expects anything from me.” I lay my head on Chico’s shoulder for support.
“Yeah, your dad is a fucking douche for hurting you. Wish I could do something about him, but he’s bigger than me. Plus, he pays my bills.” I laugh at hearing him admit he is a chicken shit, but I wasn’t expecting him to go beat up my father anyway.
“Balt thinks he is the king of the coop, but really, he is just a bitch,” I say, smiling through my tears. “Yeah, cock-a-doodle-doo, bitch,” I ramble over stuttered words. “Cock-a-douche! That’s what he is.” We both laugh, and I lean over on Chico’s shoulder again. I feel his hand running up and down my arm as I lean there, but I don’t move away.
“Mando, why don’t you stay with me? I’m a few trailers back from here, so you would be close to your Gran. I’d take care of you. I make good money.” I look up at him, not moving my head from his shoulder.
“Can’t. It would hurt Clay. Besides, you work for the Devil. Speaking of Devil. . .” I search the seat for my second bottle.
“You just said you left Clay.” I blink slowly trying to process.
“Oh yeah, I did. I tell you what. Tonight, let’s just live free. Some good ole tainted fun. Let’s finish this bottle and fucking dance our asses off to Cabo Diablo’s fiddle. Fuck my world. Tomorrow, we can go bac
k to normal and drink the blue label cheap shit. But tonight, let’s get wrecked like rock stars.” I guess he misinterpreted what I meant by tainted fun because the next thing I know, he has his tongue down my throat. He kisses like a snake. Where Clay is tender and loving with me, Chico is trying to choke me. But it feels kind of good to be held, even if it’s not these arms I crave. So I go with it. I slide my leg over his hip and straddle him on the old van seat, both my hands on his scruffy jaws. I work my hips in a circle and moan in lust. Not for him, but for the connection. I need to know someone somewhere loves me, even if just for a minute.
“Damn, baby, you feel so good. Let me fuck you. I’ll do you right.” I know the voice isn’t Clay’s. He would never ask to fuck me. He would do anything I asked him to, but he would never ask to fuck me. He always said he could love me hard as hell, but to fuck something was to not care about it. He is right. Guys fuck, and men make love. I feel so good right now, though, “I won’t fuck you. Shut up and kiss me while you can.” I dig my hips deeper and feel myself getting wet from the friction. I need Clay. I need my meat monster to curb my appetite. But I left him. I walked out on the best man this world has ever seen.
I continue kissing Chico. In my foggy mind, he turns into Clay. I run my hands under his shirt and kiss down his neck, biting along the way. “God, baby, I love you so much,” I moan out as I work my way past his ear. “I just want to feel you inside me right now.” I dig my nails in hard and smile when he sucks in a deep breath.
“Damn, girl, you a freak.”
My eyes jerk open, freeing me from my delusion. The pressure against my twat isn’t Clay but Chico and his tiny, little, mini, wannabe monster worm. I look around for the voice that broke the spell, and I see a guy lining something up on an old book and Crystal smiling her evil smile at me. She pops her gum once. “Hey, girl, he is a waste of your prissy ass time. I fuck him, and the only way I can get off is up the ass because it’s so small you can’t even feel it anywhere else.” She smiles a big toothy grin at Chico. “You know it’s true, baby. But I ain’t complaining. Your girl looks like she is about to run, though. If that’s the case, you can bring your boner over here. I’ll sit on it for you.” She runs her hands down between her legs, and instead of looking away, I watch her with disgust in my eyes. I can’t help but wonder if Rome ever stuck it in her ass. I mean, this bitch is nasty. Surely he didn’t. “Chico, baby, I’m ready for you, and I know you want it.” She lifts her skirt up enough I can actually see her thong as she works to slide it aside and show him her . . . OMG her pearl is bearded!!! My eyes snap back to Chico, who is sitting beside me with a small strain against his pants. He wouldn’t just go have sex with her right here in front of everyone, would he? I look around the small circle that seems to have suddenly filled with people. Some smoking cigarettes or pot, some drinking. The fire is burning off… I feel sick.
