Invictus, page 14
Not yet. Not until I’m sure he’s taken care of.
“I like the stars,” he says in a breathless voice, breaking the air of silence between us. “There’s so far away but we can still see them, you know? When I was in Singapore, every time I felt lost or lonely, I would go outside and look at the stars wondering if you were looking at the same ones too.”
“The chances of that happening are actually quite stellar,” I reply softly putting a hand gently on his shoulder. “I missed you when you were gone and I remembered that you were always fond of the stars.”
Robbie crosses his long arms over his knees before dropping his chin onto his elbow and gives me a pained smile. I can see his lips quivering even though he’s trying to hide it from me and I can see his eyes are dangerously watering, but I don’t pay it any mind because it will make him feel like a child if he cries in front of me.
Even though he has many, many times before, he doesn’t like to do it.
Of course, that could be due to our wonderful example of a father telling us that boys don’t cry, and Robbie knows that if he sees him shedding even a single tear, he’ll berate him in front of the circus.
“Can I stay with you, Auggie?” he asks in a small voice.
I nod and smile.
Robbie will always have a place with me and he knows it. He just needs the affirmation every now and again because it makes him feel all of the things he’s never honestly felt—loved and wanted.
It doesn’t matter how many times I tell him that I love him or need him in my life, he’ll never believe it until he’s good and ready, and that’s okay.
I won’t ever force him to accept anything he can’t—even the inevitable. It will break him and turn him into a looser cannon than he already is, and that’s why I won’t lay that stress on him until it’s time.
It’s just another way I can protect him from the cruel world that’s threatened since he was a boy to crush him under its weight. I’ll hold the skies up like Atlas for as long as I can, and when the time comes for the skies to fall down around me, Robbie will be prepared for it.
That’s just the way it has to be.
As my new acquaintance, Richard, or Dick as he’s delightfully insisted I call him, waves the bartender over and orders me a second old fashioned, I scan the room for August, who I’d watched exit with Robbie through a side door not long ago.
I’d been annoyed that August didn’t come to my door, but it’d been hard to stay mad seeing him loitering handsomely beside the town car in his designer tux. He’d caught sight of me and stood at attention, scanning me from head to toe.
“Yes,” he’d murmured, a definitive nod and curling lip punctuating his approval. I grew warm all over at his response, though I felt like a silly girl, and bit the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. I wasn’t surprised to see Robbie in the back of the Lincoln, and I barely acknowledged whatever smart-ass remark he made as I climbed in. I was far too preoccupied with August’s bloodshot eyes. He looked paler than usual, causing me to reflect once again on that moment in the café when he appeared to be nothing more than a vacant void in a handsome shell.
Robbie ignored us all the way to the museum, and I couldn’t have been happier. August laced his fingers in mine, and I let myself enjoy his closeness, and the spicy scent of his expensive cologne.
I craned to look up at the Sky Needle as we passed it, and when I turned back to face forward, my eyes feasted on Lake Union Park. A charming walking bridge crossed a body of water to an expansive green lawn with curving pathways winding up to a mammoth white building all lit up in the dusky evening. I could make out various boats dotting the surrounding waterfront as we pulled into the long driveway.
“Tonight is a fundraiser for the museum,” August informed us, but Robbie was too busy slamming mini bottles of vodka to notice. “Hobnobbing isn’t my thing, but the museum is one of my passions. My attendance at this particular party is a necessary evil.”
“What do you need me to do?” I asked as the driver slowed to a stop in front of the museum. August had an assignment for me, I was sure of it. The knife he’d given me was clue number one, and clue number two had been his steady delivery of orders since the moment he’d burst through the back door at the barber shop and face-stomped his way up my skirt and into my soul.
August turned slightly, meeting my gaze. His eyes were as blue as the nearby water, and for the first time ever I saw some emotion flickering in them. Without a trace of irony, his lips hovered near my ear, and he simply responded, “Mingle, watch, and learn.”
As soon as we were inside the museum, his mother appeared before us, a tall, older gentleman with an unfortunate comb-over trailing behind. His broad shoulders and furrowed brow reminded me of August, and it was my assumption that this fellow was August and Robbie’s father. Wanting no part of this unfortunate family reunion, I extracted myself from August’s grasp and hurried toward the bar.
Passing a giant sculpture that I first assumed was a climbing wall, I spotted an open stool ahead. My ass hadn’t even touched the wooden surface before someone tall, dark, and spray-tanned appeared and offered to buy me a drink. Never one to let top-shelf liquor go stale, I graciously accepted. Turned out my booze benefactor was August’s colleague, Derrick Faust. Derrick was quick to tell me he’s known both of the Grant brothers since private school, and he proceeded to regale me with what an amazing swimmer August always was and what an impressive wrestler Robbie had been back in those days. I nodded and smiled and downed my drink as quickly as these Emily Post surroundings would allow. Unfortunately, it was not fast enough. Before I could choke back the last of my cosmo, Derrick gave me the full court press about August, wanting to know if August and I were an item and if it was true that we were living together.
“No and no,” I said, distracted as I watched August lead Robbie in the side door. Derrick didn’t look convinced, but he did look jealous, which made me wonder how long he’d been carrying a torch for old Auggie, not that I could blame him.
“Now, now, Derrick. It’s simply unfair for you to keep this charming creature all to yourself. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
That was Dick’s opening line, and he’d quickly become my top choice for a potential sugar daddy. I’ve been flirting drinks out of him and his fellow former frat boys ever since.
Dick steps in front of me, commanding my attention once more. He’s a silver fox in a white tux with a flashy timepiece, quick to invade my personal space to toast with me. For the seven hundredth time since arriving, I wonder why I’m here. When I’m finally able to search for August again, he’s nowhere to be seen, and I can only presume he’s off changing Robbie’s diaper once more.
Boring.
I feel Dick’s fingers trail down my bare back, and I drink deeply, the burn of the alcohol nothing compared to the scorching feeling of being invited and abandoned.
August knows better than to ditch me in the viper’s den. I understand that this isn’t a date. It’s another one of his tests…some type of audition. I’m over his cryptic doublespeak and even more over his wicked little shadow, so I’ve decided to make my own fun tonight.
I feel Robbie’s scrutiny before I see him, and when I turn to face his bullshit head on, he raises his glass to me, his eyebrow arching along with the corner of his lips. I turn away, refusing to let him kill my expensive buzz. I’ve guzzled my weight in high-end booze and have no choice but to finally hit the ladies room.
Seeing the long line of overdressed and over-botoxed trophy wives trailing out the door on the main floor, I hurry up the open steel staircase and in the direction of the more inconvenient second-floor restroom. As I approach the quiet end of the hall, I spot August’s father loitering nearby. He’s still as a statue, observing the distant party from the open balcony just past the ladies’ room. As I near him, he slants his gaze at me. I nod in greeting, but his vacant eyes seem to look right through me.
When I enter the restroom, I’m greeted with a ruckus from inside one of the stalls, and the distinct sounds of sloppy kissing. I stop in my tracks, but curious and in desperate need to relieve my bladder, I tiptoe farther inside.
It’s obvious as I approach that the lovers are in the large end stall. Staying close to the far wall by the sinks, I peek underneath enough to see someone in a glittery rose-pink gown on her knees and that someone enjoying her mouth is also wearing high heels. With a cock of my brow, I creep back to stall number one and make plenty of noise to alert them to my presence.
Unaccustomed to gowns, it takes me a while to maneuver around it and my fancy undergarments, and when I finally flush and exit, Mrs. Grant is standing in front of the mirror trying to light a cigarette. Her red gown is dazzling, and she towers over me in her spikey heels…the same heels that belonged to the receiver of oral pleasure in the handicapped stall.
“Oral’s the best, am I right?” I soap up my hands, and even after I’ve rinsed them and dried them, she still hasn’t managed to get her bejeweled contraption to get the job done, so I whip my Zippo out of my clutch. It blazes, and she leans in to utilize the flame. Exhaling smoke through her nose, she resembles a dragon in more ways than one as she looks down her surgically straightened nose at me.
“Is that why you’re still sniffing around my son?” she slurs, and it’s evident she’s far drunker than I. “His oral skills?”
I shrug. “What can I say? He’s got quite the tongue.”
“And I’m sure his bank accounts have nothing to do with your endless, unrelenting presence.” She flicks her ashes on the floor, as if the museum, like the rest of the planet, is her private ashtray.
I sigh. “I have very little interest in August’s money.”
“Please. Everyone is interested in money. Even those who don’t believe they are. But I promise you, honey, you’ll never see a dime. I’ll write him out of my will first.”
I look her up and down with undisguised amusement. No wonder August has such unbridled violence lurking under that cool, ripped exterior. No wonder Robbie, who is barely a grown man, is a train wreck of a human being.
“I’ve done my homework, Natasha—”
I frown. “It’s Atasha.”
“…not according to your birth certificate, it’s not.” She smiles brightly, and somehow it’s the most hateful expression I’ve ever seen. “That’s right, trailer trash…I’ve had you investigated. I’ve read your arrest record too. Possession…shop lifting...public intox. Oh! I thought I should tell you: your father was released from prison six months ago. Did you know that?”
My mouth drops open, and I’m stunned silent.
“I think you did. I think that’s why you slithered into Seattle, isn’t it? Afraid he’ll come gunning for you since you narced on him? I can’t imagine how pissed he must be that you testified against him. Maybe I should call him. Let him take care of our mutual problem. He can wrap his hands around that throat and choke the life out of you just like he did your mother.”
I blink as if she’s slapped me, visions of him…that monster in his fucking uniform, his car with those red and blue flashing lights, my mother’s bulging, bloodshot, vacant eyes. All of this blinds me, overwhelming my senses.
She takes a step toward me, leaning down so she can get right in my face. She smells of nicotine, sex, and Channel #5. “You’re about as damaged as the goods come, you get that, right? My son deserves far better, wouldn’t you say?”
My head connects with hers in a glorious thwack. Seeing stars, I step back and watch as she stumbles against the hand dryers. Blood pours out of her nose, the very color of her custom gown. Her expression of total shock and awe is a real treat.
“Stay the fuck out of my business,” I snap, my head throbbing dully. I tear out of the restroom, brushing past stoned-looking Papa Grant as I hurry for the stairs. I’m almost to the door when I feel a hand on my hip.
“Where are you rushing off to, beautiful?” It’s Dick again, his stark-white caps blinding in the moody lighting.
“I need fucking air.” I pull away, busting through the doors and out into the damp night.
I turn in the direction of the lake and rush toward the waterfront. The boats bob like lonely ghosts in the shadows cast by the blazing lights of the museum, and I get a sudden chill as the wind whips off of the lake. I wander the waterfront, much like I had the woods after my father killed my mother, abandoning me with her corpse. I’d largely blocked out those details, but they’re all flooding back now with startling clarity.
We’d left him just weeks before he killed her, Mom finally done enduring broken dishes, random beatings, and fist-sized holes in the walls and doors. We went with only the car and the clothes on our backs, settling in a nearby town where she had no ties, and things were better for a while. We weren’t always on egg shells, and we could sleep at night without wondering if someone was going to wake us from a sound sleep by dragging us out of bed by the hair.
After I decided that Mom’s open eyes didn’t mean she was going to wake up, it took me 48 hours to find my way back to the main road. A trucker spotted me wandering along the shoulder of the highway, dirty and tattered, carrying an empty sippy cup. He happened to be one of the good guys, and lucky for me, he drove me straight to the sheriff’s station.
Dazed from the memories, the liquor, and the world class head-butt, I find myself standing in front of a large, abandoned boat. I imagine climbing aboard, and though I have no idea how to operate it, I picture sailing far away and never looking back. I start up the ramp when I see Dick out of the corner of my eye, hard to miss even in the darkness in his obnoxious white tux.
“Alone at last.” His smile is shark-like, and I keep moving, backing up toward the boat.
“I thought I was, yet here you are,” I quip, figuring my bitchiness isn’t remotely veiled, and he’ll catch my drift. Instead, he starts up the ramp after me.
“You like boats, huh? I have a yacht twice this size. You’d look amazing spread naked on the captain’s bed. A little extra motion in our ocean…” His smarmy tone gives me that old familiar feeling, and I’m both irritated and wet at the same time.
“I don’t know if I like boats.” I climb aboard with a purposeful step. I cast him a come hither look over my shoulder. “This is my first time.”
He chuckles wickedly, stopping just shy of boarding. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“On a boat, silly,” I correct him, and though I really want him to turn and walk away, I arch my back, knowing how it accentuates my assets.
He has free will. He can and should leave. But I know damn well he won’t.
And he doesn’t, of course. His eyes rake me, and he glides aboard like a wraith with his blinding teeth and silver hair.
“You’re drop dead gorgeous, you know that?”
“So I hear.” I turn away and look out over the water. I can feel his eyes like hot coals on my bare back.
“Your ass is perfect.”
I snort, but don’t even turn around. “Thanks?”
“I’m going to fuck that ass until it bleeds.” I can feel his breath on the back of my neck, his hands coming around to grasp my breasts. “Right here. Right now. Would you like that?”
“I doubt I’d notice.” I haven’t even removed my hands from the railing.
His grip on me lessens as he huffs out a surprised laugh. “What?”
Now I turn to face him, eager to see the impact of my words. “Well, by the size of the diamond on that pinky ring, I’m guessing you’re overcompensating for something.”
His eyes narrow, that all too familiar predatory expression all marginalized men get transforming his face. “That’s one smart mouth you’re packing, girl. Maybe I should fuck that mouth instead.”
He tries to push me to my knees, but I shove him away.
“Go fuck yourself, Dick,” I say, pivoting toward the ramp.
He shoves me, catching me off balance, and my back is against the cold steel hull of the ship. Kneeing his way between my legs, his hand is on my throat. “You fucking tease.”
I smile knowingly, my hand sliding down to grasp the knife in my garter. Suddenly, Dick yanks away from me, and I see that Robbie has him by his silver hair and his lapel.
“Did you ask Auggie if you could play with his stuff?” Robbie whispers into Dick’s ear, almost like a lover. Dick opens his mouth and inhales loudly, like he’s about to scream for help. Robbie’s eyes flick to mine, and I raise my knife, plunging it straight into Dick’s heart. Robbie eyes widen in stunned surprise as blood spurts onto his hand. He casually releases Dick, who drops like a stone.
We both watch with rapt attention as Dick bleeds out at our feet. It’s quite a show, what with that garish white leisure suit he’d chosen to parade around in. My pulse gallops as I watch, hungry to witness his last breath. It doesn’t take long.
After, I lift my eyes to Robbie’s. For the first time since the barber shop, he regards me with something besides outright loathing. He tilts his head, green eyes gazing down at me with something like admiration.
“You’re…you’re like us. Auggie and me,” he states, blinking as if processing like a computer. His face transforms with smug satisfaction, and his evil smile bubbles to the surface. “You really did kill those missing frat boys, didn’t you?”
My heart lodged in my throat, I bolt, sprinting down the ramp and off into the night. I run in the direction away from the museum, passing boat after vacant boat. Terrified, I don’t dare slow as I turn to look over my shoulder. Robbie’s right behind me, reaching out with one hand. He gabs me by my skirt and I come to an abrupt stop, slamming into his body with force. Pressing my own bloody knife out in front of him, he shoves me down another ramp, taking me aboard a swankier, modern boat.
My eyes scan the horizon, desperate to find some means of escape. Pushing me forward, he climbs aboard, backing me against the cool metal hull of the bridge, he raises his bloody hand to my face, swiping his sticky thumb along my cheek.
