I swallow hard and push the words out. “Roast chicken and rosemary potatoes.”
“Alright, sounds good! Hey, Red, why don’t you come up for dinner tonight? It’s Saturday, after all. Let’s have some fun. It’s been a while since we done that. What do you say?”
My stomach drops, like I’ve swallowed an anchor. I don’t want to cook anymore. I don’t want anything but my dark little corner. So stupid, I am. So stupid.
I hear Red shuffling his feet. “Uh, sorry, Shayne I, uh…I can’t. I got—”
“Oh, come on. Ava’s cooking tonight. First time. Kind of a big deal, you know? Figured you’d want to be here, you having it bad for her all these years too. But hey, if you can’t, no big deal. I know Rex and Pete will come up. We’ll have ourselves a good time, won’t we, Ava?”
I nod while my lungs go tight. All I want to do is cry, but I don’t. I just keep putting things away.
“Fine,” Red says. “What time?”
“What do you say, Ava, seven? That’ll give you a couple hours to get everything ready. Will that work?”
I nod again.
“Seven it is!” Shayne says, slapping his hand on the counter and making me flinch. “Going to have ourselves a get together.”
“See you then,” Red mutters, and leaves.
“Be sure to dress up!” Shayne calls out, then the door to the garage slams shut.
I’m trembling so hard a bag of pasta falls out of my hand and lands on the floor. Shayne moves in and grabs it quick. “Here, wifey, let me get that for you.”
I take it from him carefully and set it on the counter. He’s standing close. So close, I know to stand quietly for him. He pulls my hair back with his finger, then strokes my cheek, the beer on his breathe making my stomach turn. “Good thing I kept those clothes I got for you,” he says. “I’ll find you something real pretty. How does that sound?”
I nod.
“I want you to look nice tonight, Ava,” he whispers. “I want you to be perfect. But for me, this time. Me. Not him. Can you do that?”
I nod again, a tear slipping down my cheek. This is bad. This is all so bad.
“Good little wife,” he says. “See you at seven.” He places a kiss on my cheek, gives me a pat on the head, then grabs the six pack of beer and walks out. “And don’t forget dessert!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ava
I thought I’d already gone down about as deep as a soul could go—down into that black abyss called hell—but I was wrong. There’s more to go. I guess there will always be more to go.
It takes me a while, but I get all the bags emptied. Why’d I make such a big list? Because I’m stupid, that’s why.
Once it’s all put away, I start on dinner. First, I scrub the potatoes then get the fixings ready for the apple pie. I can’t focus too well, but at least I’m making things I’ve made plenty of times before. But there’s a catch to that—a big spoonful of sorrow that goes along with everything I’m doing. Because I’m making things I love. Things Helen taught me. Things I used to make for Ben and even my father. Things I’ll never want to make again.
I get the pie done and ready so it just needs to go in the oven, and get started on the chicken. My hands shake so hard, it takes me a bit just to get it clean and dry, and buttered up.
It feels like I’m moving in a slow daze, but every time I look at the clock, the world seems to be spinning faster and faster.
At quarter to six, I’ve got the table set for three, and the chicken, potatoes, and pie in the ovens. There’s a pretty sunset going outside, raking itself along the mountains, but I can’t even bring myself to look at it. All I can think about now is the idea that I need to get myself ready. A sick feeling crawls through my body, feeling like now it’s my turn to get buttered up, so I can be stuffed in the oven.
Back at the door to my room, I open it slowly, not sure what to expect. I haven’t seen or heard anything from Shayne since the conversation in the kitchen, and part of me wonders if he might be lurking in here, but the only thing I notice when I peek in, is the dress laying on the mattress. The knot in my stomach tightens. It’s white with red roses on it. It’s not the dress I wore that day, but it’s close. The roses are bigger, and the style is different. This one is shorter and sleeveless, with a deep V neckline. There’s also a red ribbon on the bed that I know is meant for my hair, and a pair of red heels on the floor. I wasn’t wearing heels back then, but guess I am today.
My legs are so wobbly I have to sit on the edge of the bed before I collapse. I look to the closet, wishing I could just disappear into that dark space.
But a shower waits.
And a beast.
His friend too.
A little before seven, I’m dressed up and back in the kitchen. Outside it’s almost dark, and both the chicken and apple pie are done. I take the apple pie with shaky hands and set it aside to cool for later, and put the chicken on a platter with the rosemary potatoes around it. I even add a few sprigs of rosemary to dress it up. I don’t know why I do that. So stupid.
I set the platter on the table and hear the sound of voices coming from down the hall. I walk quickly to the kitchen and begin wiping down the counter because I don’t know what else to do.
“There she is,” Shayne says. He comes up from behind and grips my waist, pressing me to him. “Damn, you look good, baby.”
I smell beer and cologne—cologne I know I’d melt to, in another time, another place. But not now, because all I smell is fear. My fear.
The beast leans into my neck and breathes in. “Mmmm, you smell so fucking good, Ava. And that necklace looks so pretty on you. Guess you got the little presents I left for you in the bathroom.”
He nuzzles my neckline, in such an intimate way I don’t know how to respond. Everything’s so mixed up. Just like how I felt when I saw the small box of perfume on the bathroom counter, and the velvet box next to it, holding the most beautiful necklace I’d ever seen.
I keep my eyes down when he turns me around and runs his fingers along my throat and over my collar bone. “They say it’s important to have romance in the relationship, so figured Romance perfume was a good place to start.” His voice is so soft, so tender, like how a normal husband might talk to his adoring wife. He takes the pendant gently in his hand and runs his thumb over it. “And buying jewelry for your woman is supposed to be good too. But I didn’t just buy this for you, Ava, I had it made for you, a long time ago. I handpicked all these sapphires—sapphires to match your eyes of course—to make the rose, and showed them my tattoo so they could use the design to make the thorns and barbed wire out of the diamonds that hold it around your neck. I know it doesn’t really go with the dress, but I really wanted to see you in it. And it looks so nice on you. What do you think, do you like it?”
I nod and my lower lip quivers.
“Oh, Ava.”
His soft kiss burns my temple, then he takes my hand and turns me around like a ballerina. “Look at this, Red,” he says, whistling while he does it. “Isn’t she just the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen? Her hair’s up in a ponytail and tied off with a bow, and she’s wearing a pretty dress. But not just any dress, right Ava? Not exactly the same, I know, but it was as close as I could find, and it looks so hot on your tight little body. And those legs. Wow, not sure I’ve ever seen you in heels before. Makes my dick hard just looking at you, especially knowing you dressed up just for me this time.
“What do you think, Red? She’s lost a little weight, I know. We both have. But we’re both still adjusting to married life, going through a bit of a rough patch, aren’t we sweetheart? But we’re working things out. She still looks good though, doesn’t she? Prettiest girl in the whole damn world.”
“You look real nice, Ava,” Red says, sounding sincere, and uncomfortable too. I see him from the corner of my eye, standing off to the side, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his freckled skin looking pale against the olive button-up shirt he’s w
earing. His hair looks actually combed for once, but it’s still nothing but a red mop of curls.
“What about me, Ava?” Shayne asks, still holding my hand, but taking a step back. “How do I look?”
I skim warily over the shiny black cowboy boots, the black jeans, the shiny belt buckle, and the silky, black, dress shirt. And that’s as far as I go. I know better than to look at his face. But then he says, “Go on. It’s okay this time.”
I don’t want to.
I don’t want to.
But he squeezes my hand to the point of pain, so I look up.
His black hair is slicked back, hanging down behind his ears, and he’s clean shaven, making his sunken cheekbone more noticeable, especially now that he’s lost weight. His left eye droops, not near as much as it used to, but it’s still there, set back under heavy brows. And his nose is like I remember last, flatter and crooked. It’s his mouth that’s perhaps still the most shocking. The scar on his upper lip gives him that snarl that sends a shiver barreling down my spine. But it’s those eyes. Those black eyes that burn, fueled on by alcohol and filled with something—something I don’t want to see. Pain.
He smiles, pulling back those lips over his teeth. “Now I know I’m not as pretty as I used to be, but it’s not that bad is it?”
When my eyes begin to fill, I shake my head and look away.
He laughs. “Oh, Ava, you suck at lying, you know that? But what about Red, over there. He looks pretty sharp, doesn’t he?”
I nod, staring at the floor.
“Funny,” Shayne chuckles. “You used to be the ugly one, Red. Now it’s me. Fancy that.”
Shayne gives my hand one final squeeze, so hard I swallow down a scream, then he lets me go and says, “Let’s eat!”
I’m cradling my left hand, trying not to cry or throw up, when Shayne gets to the table and stops. “We won’t need three settings. Clear this one off, Ava.”
I don’t understand, but move to the setting, my left hand against my stomach, and with my right hand, pile the napkin, silverware and placemat onto the plate and carry it to the counter.
“Red, you sit over there,” Shayne says, pointing to the setting at the far end. And I’ll sit here.” He jerks the chair out and sits down. “Can’t believe how good this all smells. Bet it tastes good too. Serve us up, Ava.”
I walk to the table, panicking over how I’m going to cut the chicken. My hand shakes when I pick up Shayne’s plate and move to where the platter sits. I’m able to pick up the knife with my good hand—my right hand—but when I try to pick up the fork with my left, it falls to the table with a loud clang and I whimper.
“What’s wrong, Ava?” Shayne asks. “Oh damn, baby. Look at your hand. It’s all swollen. Did I do that? Fuck, sorry about that. Here. Let me serve that up. You go get the Jim Beam.”
I hear Red shifting his chair. “Maybe I should get her some ice?”
“Nah, she’s tough. She’s got quite the pain threshold now, don’t you, baby?”
Even though he’s piling up his plate, I know he’s looking, so I nod, walking back with eyes down and the bottle in my good hand. I set it on the table.
“Oh, and don’t forget the glasses,” he says, moving on to serve Red. “Only need two.”
I get two rocks glasses from the cupboard and slip the rims between my fingers and carry them back, keeping my other arm tight against my body. My hand throbs, but like Shayne said, I have quite the pain threshold now.
He takes the bottle and fills both glasses, takes one to Red, and sits down.
I’m not sure what to do, since the other setting is gone now, and am about to walk back to the kitchen, when Shayne snaps his fingers while he takes a drink and points to the floor by the side of his chair.
I stare at the spot on the Navajo rug, feeling the heat sear my cheeks. If it was just Shayne…just the beast…
Slowly, I walk to his chair and sink to my knees, knowing Red’s watching.
The sadist has found another way to hurt.
It’s quiet now, except for the awkward clang of silverware as they both start eating. I’m holding my hand, looking down through the darkness in a blur, ignoring the pain in my knees, when a piece of chicken appears, hanging from Shayne’s fingers.
It dangles there, dripping with a bit of fat.
I stare at it, and keep staring, and staring, that lump in my throat growing, then I open my mouth and take the chicken.
When I swallow it down, it wants to come back up, but I won’t let it.
Shayne jerks his chair back, causing me to jump. “Almost forgot! We need some music.”
He walks out of the room and I know Red’s watching me now. I can feel it by the way he sits quietly, not even eating. Music breaks the silence, drifting from all around.
Shayne enters the room again. “The man in black!” he says. “Just like me.” He sits back down and they both start eating again. “You know who this is, right Red? Johnny Cash! Figured it’s appropriate, you know? He lost a brother, just like me. And boy, he had it bad for that June, didn’t he? His whole life, it was June, June, June. Just like me with my Ava.” He feeds me another piece of chicken. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
I nod, chewing slowly.
“Did you ever see that movie, Red? Walk the Line I think it was.”
“No.”
“Awww, you got to see it. Always been a Cash fan so I made sure I saw it. And it was a damn good movie. Damn good. June doesn’t make it easy for him, but he marries her in the end, and they live happily ever after. Just like me and my Ava are going to.”
Shayne leans over and puts his glass of bourbon to my lips and whispers, “Isn’t that right, baby?”
I want to seal my mouth shut, but instead, nod and take a sip.
And how it burns.
Shayne sets his glass down and pets my hair, then picks up his fork again. “So how’s the east pasture looking, Red? It’s been forever since I been out there. Think we should move the steers over yet?”
I tune out when they set in on ranch talk, just kneeling there, holding my hand, and taking whatever scraps Shayne feeds me, and sipping the bourbon when he sets the glass to my lips. I’ve never had alcohol before. Never wanted to touch it after I saw what it did to my father. I never want to touch it again. I can feel it working though. I can feel that fire burning inside me.
Shayne leans back in his chair and sighs. “That was so good, Ava. So fucking good. We haven’t had a meal like that in ages, have we, baby?”
I shake my head.
“What do you think, Red? Did you like it?”
He must’ve nodded, because Shayne adds, “You got to speak up, so she can hear. She can’t see you from where she’s at.”
“Was real good, Ava,” Red says, speaking up over the music. He sounds sincere again, but I don’t pay attention. I’m just waiting for this to be over so I can curl up in my corner again.
“Alright! Time for dessert,” Shayne says, slapping his stomach. “Apple pie, isn’t it? Is that what I smelled earlier?”
I nod and start to get up, clutching my arm to my side, when he yanks me by the ponytail and jerks me back down. “Did I say to get up? No, don’t think I did. We’ll take care of this, won’t we Red? Poor Ava’s hand’s all messed up. Guess I don’t know my own strength sometimes.” The chair jerks back and he stands. “Stay,” he says, then takes his plate away.
I sit there, staring at the rug, hearing the music above me, feeling the beast around me. He says something to Red about grabbing plates and forks, then he’s back, placing the pie on the table.
“Did you make this from scratch?” he asks. “Just for me?”
I nod.
“Damn, that was sweet of you. Hey, Red, why don’t you do the honors?”
A moment later, they’re eating again.
“Sorry, honey,” Shayne says to me. “Bit messy to feed you this. But don’t worry, you got dessert coming.”
Those words hang in the air, floatin
g around like darts inside my mind, while they both keep eating.
A little bit later, Shayne leans back in his chair. “Don’t know about you, Red, but I’m stuffed.” He reaches out and pets my hair. “That was one good meal, Ava. Figured you knew how to cook, but you blew me away tonight. Guess it’s my turn to fix up something special for you now.”
The beast moves his chair back and I flinch, then he starts undoing his pants.
No. Please no.
Not here.
Not with…
“Hey, Shayne,” Red says. “Maybe I should be going.”
“No!” the beast says, slamming his hand down on the table. “You stay.”
The drink’s doing its thing. I can hear it. Feel it.
Red sits quiet now, while Shayne’s flesh hangs out, heavy and swollen against the black denim. It rests there, like a demon lurking in a thick patch of dark hair.
“First, baby,” he says, “why don’t you stand up and take off your dress. Let’s give Red here a little show.”
Slowly, I make my way to my feet. I teeter on the heels, with my eyes down, and try to use my good hand to get the dress off, when Shayne leans forward and says in his soft voice, “Here, let me help.”
He slides his hands up my legs and under my dress. “Arms up,” he says, as though talking to a child. I lift my arms and close my eyes when the clothing leaves my body. I’m not as devastated as I thought I’d be. Perhaps because I’ve been naked for so long. But now there’s another set of eyes on me. Eyes I know linger my way.
“Let’s take your heels off,” Shayne says. “I want nothing on you but that necklace.” One by one he removes my shoes, pulls out my ponytail, and arranges my hair so it hangs down around my face and over my shoulders. It covers my breasts but he spreads it out so my nipples poke through.
Shayne adjusts the necklace just so, then collapses back in his chair, staring at me. I’m looking to the side, but I can see him blinking slowly, see his chest rising and falling in that hard way.
Tragic Beauty Page 18
