We both reached for the serving spoon in the pot at the same time. As soon as our hands connected, I withdrew quickly. “Sorry. I’m really hungry. Forgot my packed lunch today.”
“I just said I’ve had a shit day. I’m hungry, too. Fucking bitch in the office docked me an hour for no fucking reason.” There’d be a reason. Of course, there’d be a reason, just not one he’d agree with.
Momma was waiting patiently, and I watched as the spiteful asshole proceeded to spoon all of the potatoes from the pot onto his plate. The gleam in his eyes was mean, but what caught my attention was the sight of Momma’s hands, still in prayer position, trembling. I shut my mouth and let him get on with it as I closed my eyes and hoped like hell he wouldn’t do the same with the chicken. I was starving.
True to form, Edward took most of the chicken while Momma and I shared the one remaining chicken breast and a few potato scraps. I knew my mistake had been telling him I was hungry. It gave him an edge and the cruel guy ran with it. Momma said nothing.
If there was one thing I loved about home, it was Momma’s cooking. She was a talented cook. Jesus knew what he was talking about when he wrote about turning loaves and fishes into bigger quantities, and water into wine because Momma conjured up delicious meals from next to no ingredients on a regular basis. She had little choice. I remember once when Edward had had a hankering for tinned peaches and all he found in the cupboard was tinned apricots, which had been on special in the market and all the budget would allow for, so she went with it. Her improvisation cost her a slap around the face and a couple of smashed plates, and me a big chunk of hair and a sore scalp.
Momma and I ate the miniscule chicken dry. We didn’t even get any gravy, but my mistake was rushing to eat what little I did have. It was a cross between eating it before he took it and waiting so as not to anger him more. Waiting for them to finish was painful, but Momma managed to stretch her half chicken breast out and match his pace, fork for fork, like it was a game. When he finally finished and dropped his cutlery down on his plate, I braced myself.
“I worked my fingers to the bone in the factory to put that food on the table. She,” he said with derision, “slaved over the hot stove to cook it, and you shove it down your gullet like some wild fucking animal.”
“I’m sorry.” I did the only thing that had any chance of keeping his monster at bay; I sat still with my eyes cast down and prayed that my submission would go a long way to diffusing the anger he was about to serve my way. If I dared to look at him, he’d see it as a challenge and that would be really bad.
“That fucking school has a lot to answer for. That place,” he spat, “brings out the worst in you.” I knew he meant school. His flunking had become my fault and had been my problem for years, just proving that my life was one big dysfunctional nightmare that could flip up or down at a moment’s notice.
“I need a fucking drink.” Edward slammed his fist on the table. “Clean this fucking place up.” He pushed his seat away from the table and his hand wandered to his belt. His action made my breath catch and even as I tried to regulate it, with my eyes cast down, I knew I was failing. The fear caused my eyes to water and my knee to bob up and down under the table.
Momma’s hand shot under the table and clasped my leg, a silent, ‘be careful’.
“Actions have consequences, Ginny,” he sneered, calling me by my given name. He refused to acknowledge me as Gigi like everyone else. I just didn’t know what action he was talking about.
Momma hesitated. She knew she’d have to get involved to protect me and it was always about timing it right. It didn’t take a genius to grasp that her maternal instinct to stand by me was at odds with her own need for self-preservation. The meek and mild broken person she’d become never seemed to get it one hundred percent right, though. I watched as the decision to retreat into her own head and pretend this wasn’t real and not happening warred with the need to make a stand. When she removed her hand from my knee, I figured she knew we weren’t at that critical point yet.
She was wrong.
Again.
We both jumped as he stood up and towered above the table. The shadow cast by the sun showed he was reaching for his belt again, and we were lucky it was just his belt. There were knives and forks within reach. Before he could get the belt undone, a knock sounded on the front door. We all looked in the direction of the door, Momma and I breathing in relief and Edward looking like he was ready to commit murder. We lived in the middle of nowhere and I didn’t have friends. Momma had even less, so whoever was there, it had to be for Edward.
“This isn’t the end, Ginny.”
He stormed off in the direction of the door and I felt sorry for whoever was on the other side. Hopefully it was one of his buds trying to get him to go to a bar for the night. I didn’t care. Whoever it was had delayed my beating, which was now surely inevitable.
“Gigi,” Momma whispered in fear. “You’ve got to stop poking his temper.”
Her comment surprised me. She knew how he was. It wasn’t my fault he was so unreasonable and chose to deal with stuff like this. It wasn’t like I chose to step out of line and goad him into kicking me about. Like her, I worked hard to operate within his accepted criteria. It was just that sometimes the boundary lines of those criteria were blurry, and the rules of the game changed without your knowledge. Unfortunately, when you were over that line, you were well and truly over it, and redemption came via spending time as a human punch bag.
“I…I—” I didn’t know how to answer, and while I was trying to come up with something his voice interrupted.
“Ginny, it’s for you.”
That voice.
The tone of it made my knees quake.
That voice was the one Edward used in public when he pretended he was a good guy and we were all happy. It was dripping with untruth, used to lull whoever he was talking to into a false sense of security. It was to show that the Livingstons lived their lives with normal morals and that he wasn’t capable of beating his mom and sister to a pulp. It was sickly to my ears but sweet to anyone else who heard it. It was the voice he used to lure women to bed with him. I’d seen them melt under its spell and illusion in the past. It was the voice that earned the respect of other men in the bar.
No nonsense, commanding and alpha male to the max.
But Momma and I knew different. We knew that forced sweetness was pretend, a cover, and for that, we would also suffer.
“Now, girl.”
His words jolted me into action, closely followed by Momma as her intrigue got the better of her. I’d never had a house caller before. When I rounded the kitchen door into the hallway, I saw Edward’s huge body filling the doorframe, and my only glimpse of the outside world was the space between his planted feet. In that gap, I could see Converse trainers.
Sensing that I was behind him, he stepped to the side and pierced me with eyes that nearly undid me.
“Hey, Ginny.” Topher Wexton was stood on the porch, his hands slung casually in his jean pockets, coupled with his red letterman jacket and a baseball cap. The baseball cap was on backwards and he had a jaunty bit of hair stuck through it. Behind him was parked a shiny new BMW, the engine still running and two of our classmates leaning out of the windows. Topher played on the school football team, was as cute as any teen heartthrob, and one of the only guys to even look in my direction on a daily basis. We’d never really spoken to each other until we’d been paired for a science project. It was a project we should have completed together for a group study mark, but I knew I’d never be allowed out to do that. Topher lucked out when they put us together. I completed the whole of the project to save any awkward study dates. All he had to do was rework some of my stuff into his own handwriting.
He was everything Edward hated about the school I attended and the outside world in general. Young, carefree, entitled, brash and confident.
Just laying eyes on Topher would send him into a tailspin. Edward’s jealously over
what he didn’t have was terrible. It was our fault he’d ended up not living the life of a rich man because it was Dad’s fault he’d had a heart attack. Dad dying meant that someone had to take care of us, leaving him with the burden of a family he couldn’t stand. He’d have given his right leg to be stood where Topher was, with the flash car, the fancy clothes, money in his wallet and youth on his side.
Edward would despise the fact that someone like me could attract someone like him. He refused to accept that his own choices and poor education had caused him to live the life he resented so much. It was everyone else’s fault that he’d ended up living this crappy life in a crappy house with a kid sister he couldn’t stand and a momma he treated worse than the shit on his shoe. Topher was a reminder that he slaved away in a factory and couldn’t afford nice things like him, and with no prospects, that was never ever going to change for him.
I knew I would pay for how that made him feel.
The fear I felt because Topher was standing on our porch was so strong, I had to fight not to soil my panties.
Gigi
“Topher, now isn’t convenient. We’re having dinner.”
He looked at my brother who had not moved so much as a muscle and was stood like a sentry guard in the doorway.
Another car pulled up behind Topher’s, only this one wasn’t as shiny. It was my brother’s best friend, Tommy Vincent. Tommy was the only friend Edward still saw from his school days. He lived about a mile away from us and worked his parent’s farmland.
“Yo! Party?” he enquired, looking at all the strangeness happening on our porch.
“No,” Edward told him sternly. “Head out back to the barn. I’ll come help you load up shortly.”
Tommy nodded and headed past us. Edward used Daddy’s old barn to store things he’d got from work or the bar. Momma had made the mistake of asking him about the stuff once, concerned that it was stolen. She got a punch in her back for her inquisitiveness. We didn’t mention the things he brought home anymore. We all knew it was dodgy and there was an unwritten house rule to stay away from the barn.
Topher, unfortunately, didn’t sense the atmosphere and forged ahead with whatever crazy reason he was there.
“I didn’t have your number. I’ve been trying to speak to you at school for days now.” Just as he got into his chat stride, his friends, Jagger and Davey, sat listening to rap music, started to rap along with the tune on the car stereo. I heard the words, ‘fuck’, ‘fat booty’, and ‘fap to that’, and nearly puked. I knew that Edward’s anger had ramped up to some defcon level not even invented by the President yet.
“Well, don’t let me stop you. Get on with it. As Ginny already mentioned, we were in the middle of dinner.” Edward was losing his sickly sweet voice. He wasn’t even trying to pretend, and I knew he didn’t think it was necessary with these boys. If he spoke to them like the horse shit he believed they were, he’d discourage them and anyone else from the school part of my life from ever darkening our door again.
“Uh sure. I was wondering if you’d like to come to the summer formal with me, you know, as my date?”
I was floored. Being asked by him was every girl’s high school dream. “Topher.” The word was barely a whisper, a combination of thanks mixed in with a huge dash of disappointment.
I saw Edward throw back his head and laugh. “Ginny ain’t going to no dance with you. Get outta here.”
Topher looked at my brother in shock, clearly offended by his open bluntness.
I looked at him in sadness. I might have wanted to go with him. The fact that he was here asking me was just unbelievable and it made my heart beat faster in a good way for the first time. Someone wanted to take me on a date.
Edward had made his decree, though, and when he stepped back to shut the door, he still found it all hilarious. “That’s too fucking funny. The posh kid wants to take the slut out on a date.” As the door slammed shut, he clattered into me, and I, in turn, knocked over Momma, who failed to hide the tears already rolling down her cheeks. A few seconds after the door was shut, the BMW engine revved and the rap music was drowned out by the sound of tires squealing and dust being kicked up.
I was so angry that he’d just humiliated me like that. “Why did you do that?” I spat out.
“The only dance he wants to do with you is the vertical kind and I’m not working my ass to the bone to raise no posh kid’s little bastard.”
“That wouldn’t happen.”
“You think he’d look after you? Treat you nice?” The incredulous look on his face soon vanished and I knew where this was going. “He’d have his fun and dump you with a kid, right, Momma?” The way he glared at her did nothing to quash her tears.
I tried to make an escape, but Momma was in my way. “Don’t walk away from me, you little bitch.” Edward grabbed the top of my arm and kept hold until it hurt so much I was whimpering. He dragged my body to his and began to bark out words an inch from my face. “Fucking entitled dicks coming to the door, looking for pussy.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but it was pointless. This was no time for replies, counter statements or debates.
“Never knew my sister was such a little slut. Are you whoring it up like the other fucking whores?” On the last word, he released his temper and bellowed the word so loud I was covered in spittle. With one hand keeping me in check, he reared the other one back and slapped me hard around the head. I hated when he hit me there. It felt like he was trying force my eyeballs out of their sockets by hitting my cheekbones. Kind of like a trick shot in pool where the ball hits the cushion and then the end result happens by magic. I was left with a sore head, a raging headache, a sore neck and earache. A punch to the face would have shown his complete uncontrollable rage, and sometimes I prayed he’d just get there quicker rather than toying with me.
My face snapped forward and I bit the end of my tongue between my teeth, tasting blood. I didn’t know whether to use my hands to stem the bleeding or to get him to let go of my arm.
Momma was quick to scrabble up off the floor and stand beside me. “Edward, calm down. She can’t help that they came. She’s studious. Her report cards confirm that. She doesn’t encourage boys like that. Gigi doesn’t behave like a… like a—”
“Fucking whore!” he screamed down at her, causing her to shrink and cower.
I was pleased that she was trying to stand up for me because this was bad. We both knew it, and I wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d shriveled up and just let it happen.
“She gets it from you. I don’t know why the old man stuck it out with you. He should have gone toes up and died years before, just to get away from you.” Edward leaned back and spat in her face. Mentioning my daddy hurt her even more. Momma worshipped him and reminding her that he was gone, in some twisted way, hurt her more than when Edward got physical.
With me still in his grasp, he reared back his fist and threw it towards her face. She wasn’t quick enough to completely get out of his way and it knocked her back down to the floor.
This was the Edward we were used to.
“This, slut, is one lesson you’ve had coming to you for a while. Do you understand what happens to whores who go putting it about at school formals? I’d let Momma tell you, but as school likes practical lessons, you can have one.”
“No!” Momma sobbed, grabbing out at his legs from her place by his feet as he stepped over her and pulled me with him. I tried to drag my heels and resist, to pull against his grip, but he was just too strong. We swiftly passed the bottom of the stairs and went straight through the kitchen. “Where are you taking me?”
Like a man on a mission, his step didn’t falter, even when I grabbed a chair in an effort to halt his progress.
“Time to grow up, little Gigi,” he mocked our parents, using their nickname for me.
“Please, Edward, stop,” I cried. “I’ve done nothing to encourage him.” I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. I was utterly terrified.
&nb
sp; By the time we headed out of the back door into the yard, I was beginning to worry. Thoughts of being locked in the wood shed for the night became real fears, as he’d done it before. He’d done it for a joke when we were younger, but the minute he realized just how scared I was of that place, it became another of his torture methods. I knew that spiders, snakes and scorpions lay in wait in that dark place, and I wasn’t mentally strong enough to sleep out there.
“No! No! Not the wood shed, please,” I begged. I was so afraid that I began to claw at his arm. I could feel his skin under my fingernails and knew I was marking him, but it was having no impact. Not impressed that I was trying, though, he backhanded me around the side of the head again.
“You won’t fight off some horny little motherfucker. He’ll just take what the fuck he wants and leave you with some unwanted spawn that I will be expected to feed and clothe.”
He dragged me past the woodshed, but my relief was short lived when he walked through the open barn door and threw me towards a hay bale. Tommy appeared from behind a rusty old tractor that my father used to tinker with. It was his escape from the world. Momma had never got rid of it; she was sentimental like that.
“You’ve always thought my slutty little sister was hot, right, Tommy?”
I froze as he walked closer to us, a sick look on his face. “Oh yeah.” He leered, grabbing his crotch.
“She needs breaking in before some other twisted fuck gets hold of her.”
I got up from the hay bale and made to run off, but Edward was quicker.
Gigi: A Black Sentinels MC Novel Page 2
