Business picked up, and I ended up staying late to help Nina finish some bouquets. It was six thirty when I pulled into the driveway, and I knew a certain someone would not be happy with me.
I got out of my truck, the smell of cut grass and twilight all around me. Dean stood at our faded picket fence with the lawn mower, talking with one of the neighbors, Mr. Pulley. Each had a beer in his hand. Well, how nice. Dean actually knew how to share.
Dean smiled and waved. “Hey, sunshine, good to have you home. I’ll be inside in a minute.”
“Sunshine?” What the—are you kidding me? Mr. Pulley smiled and waved, so I did the same. What a picture-perfect scene. We’d become experts at creating magical illusions.
I hurried inside to get Dean’s dinner going. What could I make that would be fast? A frozen dinner would be the quickest, but I couldn’t remember if we had any. My mom hadn’t been shopping lately. She was probably waiting for payday.
I opened the freezer door, hoping for the best. “Oh, thank God,” I whispered. There was one Hungry-Man left. Even better, it was his favorite, Classic Fried Chicken.
Dean lumbered in as I tossed the plastic tray into the microwave and set it to cook for five minutes. “I count on you for dinner at six thirty, Rae. You know that. It’s really not too much to ask.”
“Something came up at work,” I told him. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
I wanted to ask if he’d somehow managed to break his hands while mowing the lawn. God forbid he should make himself something to eat for a change. But I kept my pissy thoughts to myself and pulled another beer out of the fridge for him.
“Look, I’m sorry I’m late. I couldn’t help it.” I handed him the beer and took his empty one. He wiped the top of the can with the edge of his Blue Streak Auto Shop work shirt before he popped the tab.
“What do you do with all that money you make, anyway?” he asked.
I threw the can into the recycle bin next to the fridge. “It pays for my gas and insurance. Clothes. You know, girl stuff.” I swallowed hard. I did not like this conversation. “And it’s not very much, since I only work part-time.”
What Dean didn’t know, and hopefully never would, was that I had a savings account. I called it my Get Out of Crestfield fund. After I paid my bills and bought whatever else I needed, the rest of the money went into my savings.
Dean took a swig of beer. “You get tips?”
“Sometimes. Not today though.” I looked down at my hands and picked at the ugly bandage on my finger.
I glanced at him as he leaned against the counter and took a deep breath. There was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. He almost looked . . . sad.
“I got laid off today,” Dean said quietly. He cleared his throat. “When I tell your mother, she won’t be happy.”
He looked at me expectantly, like I was supposed to reassure him. I bit my lip, trying to figure out what to say. It was all so strange. Wasn’t he, as the adult, supposed to reassure me that we’d be all right? Then I remembered who I was talking to. There was nothing normal about our family. “She’ll probably understand. These things happen sometimes,” I said, not very convincingly. “At least Mom still has her job. And you’ll find work. Right?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. You know what Crestfield’s like. Small. Tight. It may be a while. And your mom don’t make shit.” He took another swig of beer. Then his face changed. The Dean I knew and despised returned.
He came closer to me. “You’ll give me your paycheck on paydays. The first and the fifteenth, isn’t it? I’ll decide how much money you get for your girl crap.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. “Why should I hand it over to you?” I waved my hand at the empty cans. “You’ll just throw it away on beer.”
Dean reached out and slapped me hard across the face. I tottered back and landed against the stove. My cheek burned. Tears pushed against my eyelids, wanting to escape. Too bad. I wouldn’t let them. If I was trapped, so were they.
“If you want to keep living here, you will help pay for your living expenses. This is my house, remember? Now, lucky for you, I’m going to make you look like a good girl to your mother. As far as she knows, you offered up your paycheck happily. Don’t let me hear any different. Are we clear?”
I nodded, covering my cheek with my hand. Dean had never slapped me before. He yelled at me all the time, raised his hand and threatened me a couple of times, but this was a first. It scared me. Obviously he was serious about this money thing.
Usually I didn’t make waves. I tried to keep the peace, always doing what he asked of me. This, though—handing over my paychecks? My money? It wasn’t fair. And yet, it didn’t look like arguing about it would get me anywhere.
The microwave started beeping. Dean sat down at the kitchen table. I removed the brownie from the tray, then stuck the rest of the dinner back in for another couple of minutes, like the instructions said to do.
I paced the floor, trying to think of what I could do to change his mind. Maybe I could talk to Mom before he did, and explain to her why I needed my paychecks. She had a better chance of changing his mind than I did. No. Of course that wouldn’t work. She always took his side.
When the microwave beeped again, I took the tray over to Dean with a fork. I had to try. Just one more time.
“I, uh . . . ”
“What?” His gnarled, ugly hand gripped the fork as he peeled the skin away from the breast meat. I thought of him reaching up and hitting me again. “Spit it out, Rae.”
“I’m going to the football game. I’ll be back later.”
I started to go into the bathroom, to brush my hair and change the bandage on my finger. But with anger boiling up inside me, I decided I had to do something else first. I headed to my bedroom, shut the door, and picked up my favorite pen.
• • • • • • • • •
Who ever is reading this book can you pretty please vote & comment if you guys like it ? If you do, how am i supposed to know if i should delete it or not ?. so please comment & vote <3 ilyy
