Blow (21 page)

“I can explain, Henry.”

Before I was out of the kitchen doorway, I saw him take the handle of his gun and start pounding on the compact. Small pills were being crushed. I watched him, and then he glanced up and saw me. “You are supposed to be in your room,” he barked, and took a step toward me with his hands on his belt.

“No, Henry. No!” my mother yelled.

My sister pulled me harder and I followed her. With each step I could hear my father behind me.

As soon as she closed our door, he locked it.

He locked us in.

“Susan!” he yelled.

I heard her patter down the hallway. “Henry, we need to talk about this.”

“How long?”

There wasn’t an answer.

“How long have you been taking birth control pills?”

“Not as long as it took you to find another whore,” she spat.

His laugh was wicked. “I wouldn’t have to seek pussy elsewhere if you’d let me inside you when I need you. But that’s about to change right now, Susan. No more options for you. Now tell me, how long?”

My mother was whispering and I couldn’t hear her.

“My house. My rules. Get to our room, now!”

“Henry, we need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m going to have to punish you. I can’t let this go. You’re deliberately keeping something from me that I really want. What kind of wife does that to her husband?”

Even my sister had sat on her bed and was listening. We were both scared. We’d been punished with his belt a few times. Would he do that to our mother?

Their door shut.

“Give me your wrist,” he said. “Give it to me, Susan.”

“You don’t have to tie me up, Henry. You can have me.”

“I can have you? I can have you! You’re mine. I don’t have to have your permission. I’ve let you get away with your ‘I have a headache, I don’t feel well, the girls are awake, I’m really sick today’ excuses long enough. From now on, when I want you, you’re mine. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she said calmly. She wasn’t as upset as she usually was.

“I thought we had an understanding, Susan.”

“So did I.”

He laughed. “What? You’re upset because I’m putting my dick in someone who wants me?”

“Yes. You promised me you wouldn’t do that again.”

“I have needs that you can’t meet. When you can, I won’t have to seek alternate outlets. But Susan, you’re distracting me from the issue. The problem isn’t me or who I have to fuck because you can’t satisfy my needs. It’s what you’ve been doing behind my back. I provide for this family and you grow it. That was our deal. I’m doing my part but you’re not doing yours. Do I have to stop providing for you to understand? Leave you and girls on your own? With nothing. Would you like that?”

She didn’t answer.

“Do I?” He yelled louder.

“No,” she cried.

I knew she was scared to be on her own. I’d heard her talking to someone about it once.

“I didn’t think so. Now give me your ankle.”

I left my bed and went to sit next to my sister. “What’s he doing?”

“I think he’s tying her up.”

“Why?” I gasped.

She shook her head. “Because she doesn’t want to have any more babies.”

That thumping started again, but there were no cries from my mother and no yelling from my father.

It was scarier than when there were.

My sister ran to the window and opened it. “Come over here, Gabby.”

I did.

She opened her dresser, which was beside the window, and handed me a small box with a red ribbon around it. “Here, happy birthday. This is from me. Mommy let me buy it with my babysitting money.”

I looked at her.

“Open it.”

I did. Inside was a delicate silver chain with a silver disc on it. On one side was a tiny diamond chip. On the other the words, “Blow, just blow,” were engraved.

“Blow, just blow, Gabby. Everything will be okay.”

I turned the charm around and pretended the diamond chip was a dandelion and blew.

We heard the thumping off and on all night. I’m not sure if we fell asleep or not, but around seven the next morning, our door unlocked.

“Get yourselves ready for school, girls, and make some breakfast. The bus will be here in thirty minutes,” my father commanded.

My mother always had our breakfast ready and walked us to the bus stop. I opened the door and saw my father walking into the kitchen. I tiptoed to my parents’ bedroom door and knocked, but my father was back before I opened the door. “Your mother isn’t feeling well. Now go on and get moving. You don’t want to miss the bus.”

I did as he said.

My sister had to babysit after school for our neighbor and when I came home, my father was there. He didn’t have a shirt on and he was dressed in the same pants he had been wearing this morning. Beer bottles cluttered the table. I knew he hadn’t gone to work.

He looked up from the papers he was reading. “You got homework?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Go to your room and do it. And Gabrielle,” he said.

My body started to tremble.

“When Elizabeth gets home, have her make you some dinner and go straight to bed. Your mother will get you off to school in the morning.”

His words were slightly slurred, but I understood we were not to disturb him.

I nodded again and walked down the hallway. Instead of going to my room, though, I went to my parents’ room. I didn’t knock. I just opened the door. My mother was lying on the bed, not moving. I was petrified.

Until she glanced up.

She must have been sleeping.

“Go, Gabby, go. Please,” she pleaded.

Her tearstained face was all I could see and I hated that she’d been crying.

“Go, before you sees you in here.”

Terrified, I looked around the room. The rug had been moved to the foot of the bed and rope was tied around the posts, but everything else seemed in place. Not understanding what was really going on, I shut the door and ran to my room. A few minutes later I heard the lock of my door.

That thumping that drove me mad started right afterward. This time my father was louder, groaning and talking to my mother. “I’m sorry, Susan. I don’t want to hurt you, but I need to be inside you.”

“I’m fine,” she said, no inflection in her voice.

“You’re not. I can tell.”

“I want to see the girls.”

“Tomorrow. This is for your own good.”

“How is keeping me away from my children for my own good.”

“It’s the only way I can think of to make you understand I have needs, too.”

What am I not giving you?”

“Besides a son to carry on my name, your attention.”

“You are always at work,” she muttered.

“Yes, Susan, I’m at work and my work is stressful. I can’t afford to be so tightly wound. There are times I need you to help relieve my stress and you just refuse me. If you want me to be able to continue to provide for this family, you have to be available to me more than you are.”

She muttered something.

“Don’t be mad.”

She didn’t respond to his form of apology.

“Don’t be mad, baby.”

Still, no response.

He said it again. Over and over, until I couldn’t stand the sound of his voice.

When I thought I might scream, I ran to the window and held up my bracelet. Blowing on it, all I wished for was that the incessant thumping end.

Something had happened that day. Some kind of switch had turned off for my mother. She was never the same after that. She didn’t cry anymore at night. Sure, I heard the thumping, and my father’s words, “I need to be inside you,” but that was all I ever heard again. Her cries in the night were gone.

Clementine started to cry and jolted me from the space in my head.

Had my sister been in the car, or had the charm been there the entire three months I’d been driving it?

I wasn’t sure, and I wasn’t sure if I would ever know.

Clementine’s cries continued, and I pulled her juice cup from my bag and handed it to her. She smiled. Happy and content once again, she leaned against the seat and drank from her cup.

Locked out of the garage, I backed down the side driveway, rounded the corner, and pulled up to the curb in front of Michael’s regal-looking brick home. There were no front lights on, and that made me nervous. They were on a timer, so they should have been on.

Was I being paranoid?

I contemplated for several seconds what to do before deciding what was best. I’d hurry up the walk to unlock the house and turn the lights on before I brought Clementine in.

She’d be safe. I wouldn’t be far away and I wouldn’t be long. I looked back at Clementine. She was chewing on the cup now. “I’ll be right back, silly girl.”

With a quick turn, I removed the keys from the ignition. My hands were shaking as I took the gun from my purse. Locking the car doors, I hurried up the walk.

That’s when I saw a shadow flicker across the only room in the house that had a light on. It was Michael’s office and he often forgot to turn it off, but the movement was what frightened me.

I gripped the gun tighter.

Logan had said, “Shoot to kill,” and that’s what I planned to do.

Was it my imagination, though?

Tree branches from the wind maybe?

A red light seemed to be blinking in the study.

I stared through the window, trying to figure out what it was. I couldn’t. Was I really seeing something? Was it my imagination? When I saw the same shadow again, I knew what I seeing had to be real.

I scanned the dark street and my entire body started to tremble. Without a doubt, I had seen movement in Michael’s office. I was now certain that someone was inside.

I glanced back at the car and the thought of Clementine being alone terrified me. I started to run to get to her, but I tripped on a step on the pathway, which landed me on my back.

Pain tore through me and I wasn’t certain I hadn’t sprained something, but my fear was greater than the pain. Forcing myself to move, I got up and somehow managed to stumble to the car. When it was within reach, I used it for leverage to help guide me around to my door.

Once inside, I pressed my foot on the gas hard. I had to get out of there. About ten minutes later, when I reached a busy intersection and the adrenaline that had been pumping through my veins slowed, I slumped forward. Feeling the weight of everything going on, the only thing I knew for certain was that I couldn’t take the chance of anything happening to Clementine.

And that’s why I was going where I was going.

It was the only place I could feel safe.

LOGAN

I
lifted the lid to my laptop and fired it up.

My fingers hovered over the keys.

I typed two words, four syllables,
Michael O’Shea
, and then hit the delete key over and over.

I made another attempt, retyping the same words.

There was a knock on my hotel room door and without overthinking it, I pressed send. I shut the lid to my computer and then grabbed my SIG. I approached the door with caution and stood to the side. “Who’s there?”

“Logan, it’s me, Elle.”

My heart thundered in my chest.

I knew her voice before she even said her name.

What was wrong?

What had happened?

I tucked the gun behind my back and swung the door open as fast as I could.

She stood there with one of those folding strollers that cradled a sleeping Clementine in it, a bag on each shoulder and her purse right at her hand.

Good girl.

My heart clenched as I allowed myself a quick look at her before scanning the hall.

She looked terrified. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go. The front desk had my name and sent me up. I hope you don’t mind.”

My eyes came back to her and our gazes collided. Again, I allowed myself just a quick glance. She looked to be physically unharmed. Without hesitation, I quickly stepped into the hall. Holding the door open with my bare foot, I looked to the right and then the left. I didn’t see anyone. “Elle,” I said, taking her bags from her and urging her forward. “It’s fine. But why aren’t you at O’Shea’s?”

Had my assumption been wrong? Was he incapable of caring for Elle and his daughter?

With urgency, she pushed the stroller inside. “He’s not there.”

“Where the fuck is he?” I asked way too loud.

Elle turned to face me.

That goddamn vulnerability was all I could see. I had to drop my gaze just to keep my distance. I felt an odd need to get close. See her even closer. Make sure she was really, truly okay.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” she said again, this time even more shakily.