Abby couldn’t stand it a second more. The desire to perform overrode her fear of eternal shame and humiliation. Springing into action, as discreetly as possible, she exited the backstage dressing area and ran towards the auditorium. The only good thing about calling upon her father to fix an emergency makeup crisis was that only one of the dancers, Natasha Torquay, who was performing the role of Tinker Bell, attended her school district. Although she was only two years older than Abby, Natasha was very mature for her age and she was certain that she would keep her secret safe.
Abby stepped inside the back entrance. She scanned the packed auditorium for several moments before she found her family. After she swiftly moved down the center aisle, she hunched low and tapped Kenyon’s shoulder. “Can you get my dad?” she whispered.
“Huh?” Kenyon blinked as if she had just woke him up.
“I need my dad,” Abby repeated.
From one member of her family to the next, her message was relayed until it finally reached Sam, who was sitting in the middle of the row. Leaning forward, he looked down at her, surprised.
Abby waved her hand. “Come here,” she whispered.
Ignoring the facts that the lights had already been turned down and that classical music drifted from the speaker systems, Sam questioned loudly, “What are you doing out here?”
“Come here,” Abby hissed. “I need you for a minute.”
Sam went to her, but she refused to explain what was going on until they left the auditorium. Finally, once they were alone, Abby leaned in and whispered as if she were about to exchange some national secret, “Ella has a zit.”
“And?” Sam questioned.
“And I need you to fix it. She is refusing to go on stage, but don’t go back there and act all flamboyant, okay?”
“All right,” Sam chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The backstage dressing area that was crowded with dancers ranging in age from twelve to eighteen was eerily quiet. The sight that he discovered was worse than he could have possibly imagined. The pimple was nothing. It would take only a few seconds to hide away that little pubescent monstrosity. What Sam really wanted to know was which adult thought it would be a good idea to have these young, inexperienced youths do their own makeup.
“Good God,” Sam muttered under his breath. “How much time do I have?”
“No more than ten minutes,” Abby answered.
“All of you—go wash that stuff off your face,” Sam suddenly commanded. “Now! People, it is called lipstick for a reason. You know why? Because it goes on your lips—not your cheeks and certainly not your eyes. Wait a minute, you…” Sam said as he pointed towards Natasha and then motioned towards his eyes. “Who did your lines?”
“I did,” Natasha answered softly.
“Good job. Not everyone can pull off a double fan sweep, but you look exquisite,” Sam murmured. “I can’t say the same for the rest of you. Now go. Hurry. We don’t have much time.”
Sam returned to his seat just seconds before showtime. Kate leaned over and whispered, “What was that all about?”
“Nothing. Hey, did you bring your phone?”
“No,” Kate answered. He was the reason photographs were banned from the auditorium this year. After years of complaints, the dance school officials finally decided enough was enough. A part of Kate was actually relieved. Sure, they wouldn’t get the best pictures this year, but at least she didn’t have to sit by helplessly as the other parents stared her down with evil glares while he was up on stage capturing the moment.
Hannah was wondering where he ran off to as well, but when, one by one, the dancers turned and faced the audience, she knew the answer. Every face Sam created was unique, but there was a distinct quality to his work. Smiling with delight, she turned and looked at McKenna. She recognized Sam’s stamp as well, but unlike Hannah, she didn’t look at all pleased.
“Don’t pout,” Hannah whispered. “This is Abigail’s big day.”
“Every day has been Abigail’s big day since the day she was born,” McKenna hissed and suddenly stood.
Hannah followed her up the aisle. When they stepped inside the foyer, she demanded, “Where do you think you are going?”
“I’m texting Trevor. You said we could go out after the recital,” McKenna grumbled without looking up from her phone.
“After the recital,” Hannah repeated as she snatched the phone out of her hand.
McKenna whirled around on her heels and glared at her. “Oh my God! You’re so freaking unfair. I’ve watched every one of her stupid recitals, and Kenyon sleeps through half of them. What’s the big deal if I miss one?”
“The big deal is that they are important to Abigail. And in this family, we support each other.”
“That is such bullshit,” McKenna mumbled under her breath.
“What did you say to me?”
“I said that is such bull-shit,” McKenna screamed. “In this family, we lie to each other and pretend that everything is wonderful and happy.”
Hannah’s eyes narrowed to lethal slits as she gritted between her teeth, “Do you honestly believe I don’t know what this sudden fascination with Trevor is all about? Do you believe your mother doesn’t know either? You’re angry, but guess what, McKenna? Sometimes in life there are things you can’t change no matter how badly you want too. Sometimes life sucks. But you deal with it. You don’t turn your back on people who love you.”
“Trevor has nothing do with this family. I love him,” McKenna declared.
“Oh, McKenna,” Hannah groaned. “You are too young to feel that way.”
“I am not. You wouldn’t understand,” McKenna cried.
“I wouldn’t understand,” Hannah mimicked. “Let’s try this. Tell me how you feel.”
“Huh?”
“It wasn’t a complex question. How do you feel at this very moment?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Being in love makes you happy, McKenna. It’s really that simple. It doesn’t hold grudges. It makes you feel invincible. And when you find the one you realize that all you lack or think you need to be happy doesn’t matter. They aren’t important any longer because you have everything you need. Does Trevor make you truly feel that way?”
“Yes,” McKenna mumbled without looking into her eyes.
Hannah reluctantly handed over the phone. “All right, you may leave, but I want you home by ten o’clock. And I will wait with you until he comes.”
McKenna rolled her eyes and moaned, “Fine, but he already knows I’m not allowed on his motorcycle.”
“Well, I’ll just wait to be sure.”
Hannah watched silently as her daughter climbed into the front seat of a brand spanking new Shelby Mustang. For someone who only worked part-time at his uncle’s garage, Trevor Dean had a seemingly endless fleet of vehicles at his disposal. Every night, it was different car. Hannah was reasonably sure she would feel more comfortable with McKenna riding shotgun with Satan than him.
She turned to go inside when she spotted Willow leaning casually against the door. As she stepped closer, she noticed that her eyes were red and glassy.
“What’s wrong?” Hannah frowned.
“Nothing is wrong,” Willow whispered as she gently shook her head in denial. She wrapped her arms around Hannah’s waist and pulled her close. “Nothing is wrong. It’s just that you make me very happy too.”
Hannah chuckled softly as she kissed her temple. “You are such a sap, darling.”
“No, I am a romantic. And you wouldn’t have me any other way.”
“How was the recital?”
“It was fine,” McKenna murmured.
“Hey, doll face, where’s your smile?” Trevor teased.
“I don’t know. I just have a lot on my mind,” McKenna shrugged.
Her mother was so wrong about what it felt like to be in love. What could she possibly know about the subject? When Hannah met Willow, she was super ri
ch, famous, and gorgeous beyond belief. What could she have needed that she didn’t already have? She had the world on her fingertips. There was no way to compare their situations. Hannah had everything, and McKenna had just discovered that everyone in her family had been lying to her for years.
It wasn’t true—McKenna was happy when she was with Trevor. He loved her—really loved her. She could be real with him. She didn’t have to pretend that everything was wonderful. He didn’t expect her to smile through the pain and pretend that she fine with Abby carelessly tossing away all the affection that she would have treasured.
What Hannah failed to understand was that she was coming to Trevor as damaged goods—broken but fixable. Her entire world had just been shattered before they met. Of course she couldn’t be happy all the time.
McKenna noticed a brown package resting on the floor by her feet. She picked it up. “What’s this?”
“Hey, be careful with that,” Trevor chided as he pushed her hand down. “That kilo is worth twenty grand.”
“Kilo,” McKenna gasped. “A kilo of what?”
“Well, it ain’t glitter for the fairies. I just have to drop it off at my uncle’s place. It will only take a few minutes.”
“Oh,” McKenna muttered. Good Lord, what is he doing with that stuff? Please don’t let us get pulled over by the police.
Chapter 17
It was a choice of two evils—whether to stay in the car or go inside with him. At this time of day, McKenna spotted a few nefarious-looking people gathering around the street corners, unlike the only other time she had been here in the middle of the morning. She could always lock the doors, but there was a group of three tattooed bikers in the parking lot that stared towards the car intently. McKenna decided she was safer with Trevor.
The entire inside of the motorcycle shop looked very much the same as the last time. The only difference was that there were a few more people around, two of whom were women. They both looked every inch as hard and rough as the men that surrounded them. As they stared at her, McKenna could feel their hatred from across the room. She remained calm and poised, but on the inside, she was shaking like a leaf.
“How was the recital?” Trevor’s uncle Bobby asked from his spot at the card table in the corner, which was cluttered with half-empty beer bottles, cards, and large amounts of cash. Discarded cigarettes lined the floor—a few of which were still burning.
“It was nice,” McKenna answered with a polite smile.
“Tell me something, McKenna,” Bobby paused as he took a long swig of beer. “How does a queer and a fag make someone like you?”
Trevor had just returned from the back room minus the kilo that he had carried inside.
“Sam isn’t gay,” McKenna retorted as she stared at him. Inwardly reeling, she couldn’t believe he had told them about her family.
“Whatever,” Trevor smirked as he moved towards her. “Keep on telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night.”
“He isn’t gay,” she repeated. This time her anger began slipping through the cracks of her still façade.
“He’s a fucking faggot-ass fairy,” Trevor gritted through his teeth.
McKenna decided to ignore the warning bells ringing inside her mind. Everything about Trevor appeared different—the sound of his voice, his stance, and the way he looked at her. It was as if he was playing a role of badass for the audience, and she didn’t like it.
“Maybe if you weren’t intimidated by him, it wouldn’t be a problem,” McKenna hissed.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Trevor yelled.
“It means that he isn’t gay.”
“Are you calling me a fucking liar, bitch?”
Bitch! For as long as she could remember, Kenyon tossed that word at her—little bitch, baby bitch. It always made her see red. Reacting without thinking, she lunged towards him and then, bam, she was on the floor. For several seconds, she couldn’t understand what happened, only that the entire left side of her face felt like it had been ran over by a trash truck. Then she realized Trevor had just hit her. No, he hadn’t just hit her—he had punched her. Suddenly, he was leaning down, screaming with his finger in her face.
“Don’t you ever lay your hands on me again, bitch. If you ever do that again, I’ll fucking…”
Scampering to her feet, McKenna didn’t stay around long enough to hear the rest. As she bolted through the door, she heard a chorus of laughter trailing behind her. She ran. She ran past the bikers, past the prostitutes and dealers standing on the corner, she ran until she couldn’t catch her breath, and even then, she kept running. She had no idea what to do or where to go. She only knew that each time her heels pounded against the concrete the bones in her face rattled. Shit—something is broken.
Spotting a bus station bench, she slowed to jog and then sat down. She gingerly reached up to cradle her throbbing cheek. It was soaked. Half-afraid to look for fear it might be blood on her palm, McKenna pulled down her hand and was slightly relieved to discover that it was only sweat and tears that saturated her skin.
What the hell had just happened? McKenna’s brain could barely comprehend what had happened. One moment, everything was fine. No, make that wonderful. The next, Trevor was treating her like his own private punching bag. Weren’t there supposed to be signs or clues for this sort of behavior? In health class, they learned about the dangers of domestic violence, but they said it never happened out of the blue. Her mind flashed through the past month, through every conversation, every encounter, and there was nothing to suggest this would happen. Stepping into his world had been the trigger to make him snap into some sort of feral beast.
Oh God, Mommy had been right. Heartbroken and devastated, at that moment above all else, McKenna felt humiliated and ashamed. How had she let this happen to her? How would she ever be able to show her face again? Dear Lord, if Mommy ever found out… McKenna didn’t even want to begin to consider her reaction.
Glancing around, she realized she had no idea where she was or where she would go from here. Her friends couldn’t see her like this. Her parents absolutely could not see her like this. If they ever discovered what happened, they would contact the police. Fuming and pissed off, McKenna wouldn’t mind seeing Trevor put away in jail for a few days at least, but the only problem with that was that he had connections. Very bad connections. And a few them might not be above seeking retaliation. She wasn’t just worried about herself but the safety of her entire family. Oh God, why is this happening to me? Shit, it is really starting to hurt badly. Her left eye was beginning to swell shut.
McKenna reached inside her purse, which, thankfully, she had enough reason to grab on her dash out the door. She fumbled through her belongings until she found her pair of oversized sunglasses. It was dusk outside and she knew she looked ridiculous wearing them, but it was better than everyone thinking she was some sort of pimp-beaten prostitute. It would be night soon, and she was still in the worst part of town. She knew she had to figure something out and fast too.
A semi-truck that had been parked across the street suddenly rumbled to life. After the trailer moved down the road, McKenna saw a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant—Sam’s BBQ. Taking it as sigh of divine intervention, she first called for a taxi, then took a deep breath, plastered a fake a smile on her face, and dialed Hannah’s number.
“I’m sorry,” Hannah muttered.
Willow was lying naked on her side with her head propped up with her hand. “What part of me looks unsatisfied?”
“It’s really embarrassing. No wonder so many men don’t want to talk to their doctors about erectile dysfunction. Good Lord, am I going to have to start taking another pill? Have you ever read the warnings and side effects? You can’t drive or operate heavy machinery!”
Willow giggled. “When were you planning to operate heavy machinery?”
“I just like to keep my options open. Not to mention the fact you have to seek emergency medical treatment for an
erection lasting over four hours,” Hannah grumbled.
“If you have an erection that lasts over four hours, you will have to peel me off it first before going to the hospital,” Willow laughed. “All right, you are being ridiculous. It happens to everyone sometime or another.”
“It’s never happened to you.”
“Yes, well, I don’t have a penis, now do I?” Willow countered. “You’re distracted. Your mind has been on other things lately,” she whispered as she nuzzled Hannah’s neck.
Just as things were starting to get interesting, Hannah’s phone started ringing. She glanced over at her bedside table. “I have to pick up. It’s McKenna.”
“Hello, darling.”
“Hi, Mommy,” McKenna said.
“Where are you at? I can barely hear you?”
“Oh sorry, Trevor is driving with the windows down,” McKenna lied as she tapped the taxi driver on the shoulder and signaled for him to roll up the windows. “So, I was thinking about what you said, and I started to feel bad about missing Abby’s recital. I want to make it up to her. I thought maybe I could spend the weekend at Sam’s house if it was all right with you. Trevor said he would take me there.”
“Have you talked to Sam?” Hannah questioned warily.
“No, but we are on our way over now. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
Hannah’s frown deepened. She tapped her phone against her cheek and then finally said, “All right, but I want you to call me as soon as you get there.”
“Thanks Mommy, and…” McKenna paused and took another deep breath. Steeling herself against the tumultuous emotions that coiled in her belly, she whispered, “…and I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“What did McKenna want?” Willow asked.
“She said she felt bad about skipping out of Abby’s recital and wanted to spend the weekend with her to make it up,” Hannah answered.
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Or she was lying to come up with an excuse to spend the weekend with him.”
Baby Bitch (Bitches and Queens) Page 9
