Beginnings

A Million Questions

Part 2, An Unwelcome Guest

Outside, I berate myself for being so stupid. Before I can fully indulge in scolding myself, feeling ashamed and angry, a hand grips my elbow and roughly pushes me against a cement pillar in the car park. Drugged eyes meet mine and I freeze, my blood running cold. His breath is hot and reeks of cheap booze; his eyes are unfocused and glazed. Even with the effects of the liquor and drugs, his anger fights through the haze.

I was careful. How did he find me?

"I'll call the cops. Let go of me," I grit out the lie. Because we both know, even after all this time, I can't call the cops on him.

"I know you won't. Ask me why?" He sneers, grabbing my face roughly, his fingers digging into my jaw.

I can't speak; my throat is clogged with emotion and guilt. "Ask me why, piglet?" That name snaps me out of my stupor, sending waves of anger through me and burning through the initial shock.

"You lost the privilege of calling me that the day you stopped being a father," I spit. I push him hard against his chest and he stumbles back. I'm glad he's drunk—I mean, when is he not? I think and wince. Hiking my handbag up higher, I say with anger, "What do you want? Money? I see you're doing a splendid job of getting yourself high and drunk without my help. Continue doing so and keep me out of it."

He sways as he stands and takes a step towards me. I clench my fists, ready for when he tries anything.

"Just because that bitch named you in the will doesn't mean I didn't deserve anything!" He shouts, spittle flying on my face. I wipe it off with a finger.

"She was more than generous with the one grand she left you, even though I feel you shouldn't have gotten anything with the way you treated us." He lunges, but before he can lay a finger on me, a flash of white on my right has him on his backside. Before he can get his bearings, Zev punches his face hard and a crack echoes through the now-quiet car park. Blood oozes from his nose and all I can think is how long Zev has been watching our exchange.

I turn and walk away. I can vaguely make out Zev saying something to that man, but I'm walking away too fast, my heels clicking on the concrete and my blood rushing in my ears. I never refer to that man as my father; he lost the title a long time ago. Even though we share DNA, the title of 'father' is earned not through blood but through love, trust, and showing up.

I reach my car, but before I can get to the driver's side, Zev grabs the keys from my hand and pulls me to the passenger's side. He takes my bag and places it on the backseat, then ushers me inside as if I'm having a panic attack—which I am, kind of—but that's not the question. He climbs into the driver's seat of my Porsche 911 and before I can start to argue, he sends me a glare and says, "I'm not being nice to you because I feel bad for you. I saw the whole thing." I open my mouth, but he beats me to it again. "I know I shouldn't have, but I needed a breather." From what happened in the club, I finish what he doesn't say. He continues, not acknowledging it. "So I came down and that was when I saw you and your dad. I didn't want to intervene, but the moment he took that step, I saw red and couldn't not intervene."

I huff out a breath and do some deep breathing. When the ache in my throat is gone, I open my eyes and find that we are on the road, driving to God knows where. I have so many questions, like why did you lead me on only to leave me all wanton? Am I that much of a game to you? Like the other women you play with? Why did you want to punch that man? Why are you taking care of me now? Why? Why, God? Why?

But I settle for, "Where are we heading?" He smirks as he glances at me but doesn't deem my question worthy of an answer.

I rest my head back on the seat, the smell of the leather comforting me. Beneath that smell is a spicy scent I associate with only one person, and I squirm a little, realizing how trapped we are. I press the button on the car door, and the window slides down, filling the car with fresh, cool air. We are driving fast on a highway, and the signs indicate we are heading to the beach, westwards, but other than that, I don't know where we are.

The lull of the engine, the soothing breeze hitting my face and the feeling of being close to him lull me into a light sleep.