Red (4 page)

A cry in her throat, she ran. She didn't get ten feet
before Ricky caught her and dragged her back. Her Coke slipped from her fingers and hit the ground, the carbonated beverage foaming from the can's small mouth. She squeaked in fear as she fought to free herself.

He shoved her up against the tree, which only minutes ago had offered her such sweet shelter from the sun. The bark bit into her back, and she smelled beer on his breath. Her stomach rolled, and she made a sound of revulsion and fear.

“Come on, guys,” Buddy Wills said suddenly, nervously. “Leave her alone. Let's go have some fun.”

“We're having fun right here,” Ricky said softly, not taking his gaze from hers. “Aren't we, Randy?”

Becky Lynn glanced pleadingly at her brother; he looked physically ill. “Randy,” she begged, twisting against Ricky's grasp. “Please, make him stop. Plea—”

Ricky planted his open mouth on hers. He tasted of beer and tobacco; his breath was foul. He stuck his tongue deep into her mouth, and she gagged, straining against his grasp.

He kissed her again and again, his mouth open, sloppy wet with spit. He plastered his body to hers, and his erection pressed against her abdomen. She whimpered low in her throat, and squirmed, a shard of bark digging into her shoulder blade, piercing the thin fabric of her T-shirt.

Ricky dragged his mouth from hers, and looked over his shoulder at his buddies. She saw the laughter in his eyes, the triumph, and fury exploded inside her. Enraged, she wrenched an arm free and swung at him, catching him off guard, nailing him in the side of his head. “You bastard! Get off of me!”

“Sonofabitch!” Ricky stumbled backward, then lunged
for her again. “Cunt! Bitch!” He slammed her back against the tree, so hard she saw stars. “Tommy, Christ, give me a hand here!”

Tommy jumped forward and pinned her arms. She fought him as best she could, twisting, arching, trying to kick.

Ricky put his hands on her breasts, squeezing them, pinching at the nipples. “Hey, Tommy, these are some nice little titties. Have yourself a squeeze.”

“No!” She freed a foot and managed to jam it onto one of theirs, but without enough force to do anything but amuse them.

Tommy laughed and pulled at her breasts. “Ricky's right. How'd we miss these, guys? All we'd need now is a paper bag. Come on and have a feel, Buddy.”

The other boy took a step back, shaking his head. “No way. This isn't right.” He looked at Randy. “It's not right.”

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Becky Lynn flailed her head back and forth as the two boys continued to paw at her. “Please,” she whispered, horrified beyond words by what they were doing to her, humiliated and ashamed. “Please… Randy…don't…let them…”

She looked at her brother, begging him, and saw the fear and horror in his eyes. In that moment, she realized he cared more about being one of these boys' friends than he did about her, his own flesh and blood.

“If her tits are good,” Ricky said, spittle collecting at the corners of his mouth, “maybe her pussy'll be okay, too. What do you think, Tommy?”

“No!” She arched her back, straining against Tommy's hands. “Leave me alone… Randy…don't let them—”

Ricky shoved his hand between her legs, and she screamed, vaguely wondering why she hadn't before.
Tommy slammed his hand over her mouth, catching the sound. She bit down, heard Tommy's oath and tasted blood. His blood.

“You wet yet, Becky Lynn?” Ricky asked, grinding his fingers against her. “Huh, baby?” He poked at her through the denim of her shorts, and she cried out in pain, the sound muffled by Tommy's hand.

“Shit, guys,” Buddy said, stepping forward, looking as if he was going to puke. “This isn't right. It's Randy's sister, for Christ's sake.” He grabbed Ricky's arm. “Come on, man. Leave her alone.”

Ricky jerked from the other boy's grasp, fury tightening his features. “Get your own piece, asshole.”

Buddy looked at Randy. Becky Lynn could see that if Randy didn't put up a fight, Buddy was going to back down, as well. And she would be lost.

Randy moved to stand beside Buddy. “Leave her alone,” he said, his voice shaking.

“What's a matter, Madman? Afraid?”

Randy, bigger than all of them, curled fingers into fists. “Fuck you, Fischer. I'm not afraid of anything. You want to take me on? Just say the word.”

For long moments, the boys faced one another. Then Ricky and Tommy dropped their hands and stepped away from Becky Lynn. “Hey, man, we didn't mean any harm. We were just havin' a little fun. That's all.”

Becky Lynn ran. Leaving her precious magazines, not bothering to straighten her T-shirt. She ran until sweat poured from her and each breath tore at her chest and side.

Fun. They were just having a little fun.

A sob wrenched from deep inside her.
Dear Jesus, she'd wanted to die, and they'd just been having a little fun.

Becky Lynn didn't slow even when she caught sight of her house. Limping, gasping for breath, she reached it. Her mother stood on the front porch, still wearing the floral housecoat. She stared blankly out at nothing, and her gaze flickered to her daughter as Becky Lynn climbed onto the porch. But she didn't speak, didn't comment. Becky Lynn knew that she didn't even see her. Not really.

Becky Lynn pushed through the screen door. Her daddy sat in a stupor on the couch. She moved past him; he didn't acknowledge her in any way. Thank God. She didn't know what she would have done if he'd chosen that moment to lay into her. She only wanted to be alone. To be in her own bed. To never be touched again.

Becky Lynn slipped into her bedroom, crawled onto the mattress and pulled the blanket over her. She curled into a tight ball, trembling so violently her teeth chattered. So cold, she thought, curling herself tighter. She was so cold.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and her head filled with the suffocating smell of Ricky's breath, hot against her skin, filled with the feel of Ricky's tongue poking in her mouth, with the sensation of being trapped, overpowered.

She shoved a fist into her mouth to keep from crying out. Why had Ricky and Tommy done that to her? What had she done to deserve such cruelty? Such loathing?

Why her? Why always her?

Tears, hot against her cold flesh, slipped from the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, pooling at the corners of her mouth. She'd been trapped. Like an animal. Unable to free herself, unable to escape.

A sob caught in her throat. She'd fought them. But they'd been stronger; they'd held her down. The sob forced its way past her lips, ripping through the quiet room.
They'd put their hands on her; she hadn't been able to make them stop, hadn't been able to escape.

She'd wanted to, more than anything in the world. She still did. Escape Tommy and Ricky. Her father.

Escape her life.

Hopelessness overwhelmed her, and she pressed her face into the sagging mattress, tears of shame and despair choking her. As she cried, the nightmare of the last hours began to dim, being replaced by those magic moments with her mother earlier.
You're special, Becky Lynn…You could make something of yourself… You could move away from here.

Becky Lynn curled her fingers into the rough, frayed blanket, holding on to those words, their warmth licking at the cold. Somebody thought she was special. One person in this world believed in her. That meant something. It was important.

If nothing else, it would get her through another day.

F
ear became Becky Lynn's constant companion. At school and Miss Opal's. At the bus stop in the mornings, walking home from work in the evenings.

Razor sharp, the fear left her every sense heightened, her every nerve twitching. Waiting. For the worst to happen. Waiting for the moment when she would come face-to-face with Ricky and Tommy, for the moment when they would find her alone and completely vulnerable.

Oddly, the same fear that heightened her senses also numbed them, creating a wall between her and the world, a barrier that kept her from experiencing anything but her fear.

So she lived with it. She ate it and slept with it, it accompanied her to school and work. She awoke in the night, breathing hard, bathed in sweat, feeling suffocated by the emotion. Sometimes she awakened to the smell of Ricky's foul breath, to the sensation of his hands on her breasts, between her legs, and she would hold the pillow to her face to muffle her cry of terror. Of revulsion. Those nights she would be unable to sleep again. She huddled under the blanket, watching light touch the sky, praying for sleep yet praying more that it wouldn't come.

She had lost weight. Her eyes had become shadowed.
Already quiet, she had stopped talking at all. No one had noticed. Not her mother or a sibling, not a teacher or Miss Opal.

But then, she hadn't expected that anyone would. Just as she hadn't considered telling anyone what had happened. She knew, in her heart and gut, that telling would only make her situation worse.

Becky Lynn retrieved the broom and dustpan from the back of the beauty shop and began cleaning up. Miss Opal had just finished her last appointment of the day and Fayrene and Dixie had left more than an hour ago. It had been slow, even for a Wednesday.

She tucked a hank of her hair behind her ear, moving the broom over the shiny floor, making sure she found every corner and cranny, wanting to do a good job for Miss Opal. The woman had gone to the high school principle and convinced him to give Becky Lynn special dispensation to miss last period study hall so she could work afternoons at the Cut ‘n Curl.

Becky Lynn bent to maneuver the broom under Fayrene's workstation. She had needed the money, and she was only too happy to get away from school early. She drew her eyebrows together in thought. She had feared the first day of school, feared seeing Ricky and Tommy, so much she'd been physically ill. Yet that day and the ones following had slipped by until a month had passed without incident. The boys hadn't approached her again. They hadn't touched her, hadn't exposed themselves or teased her much at school. In fact, they had been distant. Almost polite.

She had told herself that she was safe. She had told herself they had forgotten her, that they were busy now with football, their girlfriends and school functions.

Yet, no matter how often she reassured herself, something about their distance unsettled her. And her sense of being threatened grew with every day.

She frowned and swept the last of Mrs. Peachtree's gunmetal gray hair into the dustpan. In the delta, the quieter, the more still and heavy the air, the worse the coming storm was going to be. That's the way the air had felt to her every day since the river. Heavy, ripe with waiting and so still she could hear her own heart pump.

Maybe they had scared themselves, she thought, shuddering. Maybe Buddy Wills's words had sunk into their thick skulls.

Or maybe Randy had demanded they leave her alone.

She tightened her lips into a grim line and emptied the dustpan of hair into the trash. Her brother was no hero—especially hers. The last thing he would ever do was stick up for her. He had made that clear the day by the river and every day since. The bastard wouldn't even look at her.

The bell jangled against the shop's glass door. Becky Lynn glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see Miss Opal's husband, Talbot. He usually stopped by around this time to see how his wife was doing and to find out what she had planned for dinner.

Instead, Ricky and Tommy sauntered through the beauty-shop door, their lips twisted into self-satisfied smirks. She froze, a chill racing up her spine.
Had they come looking for her?

Of course not.
Becky Lynn drew in a deep breath, working to calm herself, to slow her runaway pulse. She wasn't alone. They couldn't touch her now, they couldn't hurt her.

“Hello, boys.” Opal snapped the cash drawer shut and smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello, Miss Opal, ma'am.”

Tommy stopped at the counter, Ricky a step or two behind him. Becky Lynn tightened her fingers on the broom handle, praying neither of them looked her way.

“Mama sent me by to pick up a bottle of that strawberry shampoo she likes so much. She said to tell you she'd pay you when she came in on Saturday.”

“That'll be fine.” Opal took the receipt book out of the drawer and began writing up the transaction. “We goin' to win that big game Friday night?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Ricky said proudly. “We're goin' to kick some Wolverine butt.”

“You bet,” Tommy added. “Those boys'll be sorry they ever came to Bend.”

“That's what I like to hear.” Miss Opal rummaged under the counter, then made a sound of annoyance. “I had a bottle of that shampoo set aside to take home myself. I bet Fayrene up and sold it. Lord knows, I shouldn't expect her to walk ten feet.”

“Becky Lynn,” she called over her shoulder, “fetch me one of those strawberry shampoos from the display in back. You know which one I mean.”

Becky Lynn watched in horror as Tommy and Ricky turned and looked at her. The broom slipped from her nerveless fingers, clattering against the linoleum floor. She stared stupidly at them, unable to breathe, to move.

Ricky's mouth curved into a cold smile. Her heart began to thrum, her palms to sweat.
She'd wanted to die, and they'd just been having a little fun.

Miss Opal frowned. “Becky Lynn? The shampoo.”

“Yes, ma'am,” she whispered, turning and crossing to the Redkin display. She took a bottle from the shelf, her hands trembling so badly she almost dropped it.

A little fun. They'd just been having a little fun.

She carried the bottle to Miss Opal, her eyes downcast, her feet leaden.

“Hiya, Becky Lynn.”

She lifted her gaze to Ricky's, terror choking her. He looked her straight in the eye, arrogantly, without apology or fear. His gaze, as flat and emotionless as a shark's, mocked her. She had a sense that he knew everything she felt, and that she amused him.

She curled her fingers into fists. Because of who he was, he thought he could get away with anything. “Hello,” she said, digging her nails into her palms, her voice high.

He smiled again, this time broadly for Miss Opal's benefit. “I haven't seen you much around school. Where have you been hiding yourself?”

Aware of Miss Opal's gaze, she shook her head, her mouth dry. “Nowhere. I've been…nowhere.”

Ricky picked up the bottle of shampoo and tossed it to Tommy. “We'll catch up with you later, Becky Lynn. Right, Tommy?”

The bottle slapped against Tommy's palm, and he wrapped his fingers around it. “Yeah. One of these days.”

A sound of fear escaped her, small and breathless. It slipped unbidden past her lips, and Miss Opal looked at her sharply. “Becky Lynn, that delivery of products still needs to be unloaded and checked in. It's in the storeroom. See to it now, please.”

Becky Lynn nodded, relief stealing her breath. She turned and fled to the storeroom. Once there, she brought
her trembling hands to her face.
“We'll catch up with you later,”
Ricky had said.
“One of these days.”
Tommy had agreed.

She had been right to feel threatened; she hadn't been paranoid. Ricky and Tommy hadn't forgotten her; they had just put her on hold.

From out front, Becky Lynn heard Miss Opal tell the boys goodbye and to say hello to their mamas, then heard the bell jangle against the door.

Bitterness rose like a bile in her throat; tears burned the back of her eyes. No one would ever believe Tommy and Ricky were anything but model young gentlemen, no one would believe they could do any wrong. Not them, not two of Bend's favorite sons.

Becky Lynn crossed to the product shipment and knelt on the floor beside the box. She took out the packing list, the printed words and numbers swimming in front of her eyes, her tears making reading it an impossibility.

Where could she hide? How could she protect herself? She lowered her head to the box and rested her forehead against it. The tears slipped down her cheeks and off the tip of her nose, splashing onto the packing list clenched in her hands. She had no one to turn to, no one who would believe her.

“We need to talk.” Miss Opal came into the room, shutting the door behind her.

Becky Lynn wiped away the tears on her cheeks, then darted a look over her shoulder. Miss Opal stood just inside the room, hands on her hips, her expression stern. “Ma'am?”

“Becky Lynn Lee, I want you to tell me what's going on with those boys.”

Becky Lynn gazed at the other woman, a glimmer of hope blooming inside her, pushing at her fear and despair, at her loneliness. She could tell Miss Opal. Miss Opal would believe her.

She drew in a shuddering breath. “You mean Ricky and Tommy?”

“Yes.” The hairdresser took a step toward her, shaking her head in disappointment. “Just because some folks around Bend think you're trash doesn't mean you have to act like it.”

Becky Lynn frowned, her heart beginning to pound. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You've been sleeping around with those boys, haven't you?”

“No!” The word ripped from her as she jumped to her feet. She faced her boss, hurt and betrayal swelling inside her, souring in her mouth. The only person who had ever been supportive and kind, the only person she had ever thought she could, just maybe, turn to, believed she was no better than a tramp.

“I would never…those boys…they—”

“Becky Lynn Lee,” Miss Opal interrupted, her expression and tone righteous, “you listen to me. Your reputation is yours alone. Nobody can take it from you, and likewise, only you can throw it away. And once it's gone, it can never be retrieved.”

Becky Lynn thought of that day by the river, her head filling with the memory, her stomach turning with it. Ricky and Tommy had touched her when she hadn't wanted to be touched, they had taken without asking, without consent. She would never feel clean again.

She faced Miss Opal, all her hurt, all her anger and fear,
her humiliation, rushing to her lips. “You'd never think those boys would do something wrong…something awful! Oh, no, not fine upstanding boys like Tommy Fischer and Ricky Jones. You could never imagine that they might…that they might hurt me.”

Becky Lynn fisted her fingers. “I thought you…cared about me. I thought you believed I was something better than everyone else did. I see now that I was—”

She choked back the words, and swung away from Miss Opal once more, curving her arms around her middle, holding and comforting herself because no one else would.

“What are you saying, Becky Lynn? Did those boys—” The older woman cleared her throat. “Did they touch you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, not turning, not wanting to see Miss Opal's expression.

Miss Opal's silence deafened. Becky Lynn turned and faced her, spine ramrod straight. “What are you going to do now? Fire me? Call me a liar?”

For a long moment, Miss Opal said nothing. Then she sighed, the sound old and defeated. “I'm sorry, child. So…sorry. I do believe you.” She folded her hands in front of her. “Though I wish I didn't.”

Miss Opal sighed again. “You were behaving so strangely…and those boys, there was something about the way they looked at you. I jumped to the conclusion that you…had…that you were…”

Sleeping with them. Just the way poor white trash would.
Becky Lynn lifted her chin defensively and drew in a ragged breath. “Don't worry about it,” she whispered, her voice thick. “If I'm not fired, I'll finish unpacking that order now.”

Miss Opal touched her shoulder lightly. “I'm so sorry,” she said again. “Please forgive me.”

Becky Lynn shuddered. Miss Opal's touch was gentle, reassuring.

She would love to be held, would love to lean against the older woman and sob out her fears. She would love to forget what Miss Opal had accused her of. But she knew better than to do any of those things. When she forgot her place and who she was, she got hurt.

She shrugged off Miss Opal's hand. “Don't worry about it.”

“But I will worry about it. I'm fond of you and…and I feel terrible about what I just suggested. You're a good girl, and I knew you wouldn't do that, but I… Look at me, Becky Lynn. Please.”

Becky Lynn turned and met her boss's eyes. Miss Opal looked genuinely distressed. Her already hawkish features were pinched, her eyes soft with regret. As she gazed at the other woman, some of her anger, her indignation, slipped away. Even as she softened, she inched her chin up.

“You're right to be angry with me. I was wrong, and I'm terribly sorry.” Miss Opal caught her hands. “Now, Becky Lynn,” she said quietly but in a tone that brooked no argument, “I want you to tell me what those boys did to you.”

Becky Lynn shook her head and tugged against the other woman's grasp. “I'm fine.”

“That's not what I asked you, Becky Lynn Lee.” She tightened her fingers. “What did those boys do to you?”

Becky Lynn gazed at Miss Opal, the truth pressing at her, begging to be told. She sucked in a deep breath. She
wanted to tell; she wanted someone to believe her. She wanted Ricky and Tommy to be punished.

But she was afraid.

As if reading her thoughts, Miss Opal reached out and tipped her chin gently up. “You can trust me, child,” she said softly, as if reading her thoughts. “I promise I'll help you if I can.”