Ink (18 page)

Tucker pulled his shirt off. He smiled for a brief second before giving me another kiss, this time on the collarbone. I ran my hand through his hair, my head filled with uncertainty as his hand crept up my dress. That’s when my conscience slapped me in the face as his fingers met up with my inner thigh.

I gasped. “We have to go back down stairs.” I pressed my head into his chest in agitation, taking in slow breaths.

Tucker sat up. “Okay. Whatever you feel like doing.”

As we both gathered our morals there was a loud tapping on the door. Tucker jumped nearly to the ceiling, throwing his shirt on and tucking it back into his pants, he hurriedly adjusted himself. I fixed my hair, staring down at my dress to be sure everything was in place. I knew we hadn’t gone too far, but whoever was at the door might not think so.

“
Dad,” Tucker said as he pulled the door open. The man from the photos stepped into the room dressed in a gray business suit and green tie
that offset dark, almost black hair.

“
People were beginning to wonder where you went,” he said, looking around the room.

Tucker turned off his stereo. I stayed where I was. “I was giving Hope a tour of the house,” Tucker explained. He stood next to me. “Dad, this is Hope. Hope, this is my father, Everett Sinclair.”

Everett’s intense, light brown eyes stared me down, his expression frustrated. He rubbed at his chin before extending his hand.

“
Are we sure it was a tour and not a trip into your bed?” He let out a chuckle. But it wasn’t one of those fun, airy ones. “Nice to meet you, Hope. I hear you and your family just moved in down at the other end of the shore.”

I nodded while my hand stayed in his cold grasp.

“
She’s also at Ashwilder,” Tucker pointed out. His dad gave a nod, really concentrating on his next thought.

“
My son wasn’t overstepping his bounds now was he?” he asked, squeezing my hand just a little, his eyes taking on a flicker of life as he stared at me.

Tucker let out a nervous laugh. It wasn’t like I was going to confess that he was.

“
No, of course not,” I said with a small smile. “We were just listening to some music.”

“
That would be a first. And I have to say, I am a bit disappointed he wasn’t, you’re a beautiful girl. Exceptional.” He kissed the top of my hand, the familiar smell of alcohol on his breath. I pulled away, weirded out. “Tucker, I expect you down stairs.” He headed out of Tucker’s bedroom.

I spun around to Tucker. “What the heck?”

Tucker rubbed at his neck. “Don’t think twice about it. When he drinks his scotch he tends to run at the mouth. It’s fairly normal.”

I didn’t see anything normal about a man who was supposed to be a mayor tossing around crude comments to young girls. To think about it made me even more uncomfortable.

Tucker and I made our way back downstairs where the music grew a little louder and a lot quicker. Drinks were flowing and older couples, probably parents, were cutting a rug. Kids were gathered in many groups along the outside of the dance floor.

Tucker and I joined Campbell, Lydia and Jesse in their own group, along with a couple of the guys Tucker always hung around with. Lydia stared me down.

“
You look great, Hope,” Campbell said sweetly. She was wearing a simple
navy blue dress. But it looked lovely on her, I thought.

Lydia rolled her eyes yet again. She looped her arm around Jesse. “Pink’s a little too girly for me,” she muttered.

Tucker threw an arm around my shoulders. “Red suits you, Lydia. Totally fits the kind of person you are. Trashy.”

Jesse shot him a bothered look, but he didn’t say anything. Lydia crossed her arms, pouting like a child. She didn’t know what to say to retaliate for once. She hurried off, scoring more drinks for herself and Jesse. Campbell laughed at her defeated exit. “That was great, it’s not often someone puts little Miss Lydia in her place.”

Tucker nodded. “Glad to be of service.” He took two more drinks from the passing tray, handing me one.

Campbell accepted the other, taking a swig. “I can’t believe your parents allow everyone to drink alcohol.”

I sniffed at my drink again. Tucker sighed. “There’s barely any in these, I’ve told you all this before.”

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, Tucker’s stepmom came stalking over to us. Her body was poured into a tight fitting black dress, a diamond necklace draped across her bosom, and several rings on her fingers. Several men’s stares gravitated to her as they danced with their wives.

“
Hi, Mrs. Sinclair,” Lydia said, joining us again. She gave her a lazy smile. “Hi, Lydia. Hope you’re enjoying the party.”

“
It’s amazing, like always,” Lydia chirped.

“
Tucker, your father wants to speak with you,” Anita said. Tucker took my arm for me to follow. Anita placed a hand over my wrist, stopping him. “Your little friend can stay right here while you talk to your father.”

Tucker gave me a look. I nodded that I would be just fine. And then he left.

“
Hope is it?” she asked me, her posture stiff as she waited for me to answer her. She downed her martini, slapping it down on the passing tray, causing the waiter to nearly drop everything he was carrying. He gave a brief pause, letting her steal another drink.

“
Yes, Hope,” I said with a nod.

“
How are you enjoying running around with Tucker? Is the idea his father is loaded what has you so into him?” she hissed.

I shook my head in disbelief. “Not at all. I think you may have me confused with someone else.” Like
you,
I thought to myself.

“
You’re fucking hilarious,” she said dryly. Her eyes bore holes through my dress as she glared at me. “Tucker loves the attention. He loves being liked by everyone. But don’t think you can pretend to like him because you want a little piece of this fancy life.”

My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe she was attacking me so rudely. “I don’t even like him like that,” I stammered.

“
Right, just like everyone else, huh?” She stepped forward, her feet stepping on mine. Her body up close and personal. I could smell the scent of her perfume. “Keep. Your. Hands. Off. I know your kind. Do not touch anything in any of my houses. I don’t like trash, and I don’t care if your father is a drunk, I don’t feel sorry for you.”

“
You don’t know anything about me,” I snapped. I backed up, crossing my arms before I hauled off and punched her.

“
My husband’s the fucking mayor, I know everything about everyone. I have more control in everyone’s pathetic lives here in Cherry than you think. Bitch.” She pushed into me, making her exit before Tucker arrived.

I was near tears. Never in my life had anyone been so mean and hostile with me. And it hurt. Lydia had already backed off as well as Campbell. It seemed they knew when to stay out of sight around here.

I quickly dabbed at my eyes, stopping any tears from falling. I didn’t want to look like some pathetic girl who couldn’t handle some gold digger with serious territorial issues.

“
Honey, are you okay?” An older woman asked. I shook my head, pushing through the crowd, trying to find a good spot to pull it back together. I bumped into someone, looking up. It was Tucker’s dad.

“
Everything okay?” he asked, taking me by the arm.

“
I just need a few seconds.” I sniffled. He helped me break free from the party.

Pulling out a seat, he motioned me to sit down. “You could tell me what’s bothering you if you like.” He took a seat, swirling his drink in his hand.

I crossed my legs, looking out at the water. I didn’t want to talk to him, he gave me the creeps. And we were practically alone on the side of his lavish estate.

“
Here, have a drink, it will relax you.” He offered his glass.

“
No, I’m just fine, I have my own,” I said, shaking my glass in front of me.

“
Looks like you could use a refill.” He took my glass and left.

I sighed. I just wanted to go home. I obviously did not fit in here. And no one was willing to try and get to know me. Tucker and I were just two different people. And where was he? Obviously not with his father, because his father was with me.

“
Here we are.” Everett had returned with another glass of
Summer Punch
.

I didn’t smile or say thank you. I just took a long sip trying to show him I was grateful. The liquid was a little bitter, I noticed, as it pooled in the pit of my stomach. More than before. I took another sip, trying to figure out if I was just me imagining things, sucking in a little more to make sure. I finally realized it was quite different, and sat it down at my feet.

“
Feeling better?” Everett asked.

“
I really just want to go home. So thanks for everything. I am going to head out.” I stood up, heading down to the water. My head suddenly began feeling cloudy. I shook away the weird feeling, holding my skirt in place as the wind blew. I grew increasingly dizzy and couldn’t help from stumbling. The waves crashing were just about the only thing still registering in my ears.

My heart pounded in my chest as I tried desperately to take each step toward my house. But it was still quite a ways a way and my feet were so heavy, as if I were wearing cement boots. I wondered if I should turn back and ask someone for help.

Cold water hit my feet. I had stumbled close to the water without even knowing it. My vision blurry, I barely could see what was in front of me, but I could feel the water against my shins now.

“
Oh, I think someone’s had too much to drink,” a garbled voice said. I felt someone grip my arm a little too forcefully, and then I felt the sand scraping against my legs and arm. Someone was dragging me.

“
Stop!” I screamed out.

I tried prying their hand loose, my body weak and hardly able to function the way that I wanted it to. My head hit the ground, and I rolled to my side, doing my best to crawl across the sand, bits of stone and seashells digging into my knees as I scrambled to get away. But someone was trying their best to catch me over and over again.

The last thing in my memory was my head slamming against the ground, and water filling my ears, and the cold waves repeatedly hitting the side of my face and body. I stared up at the sky, my vision going dark.

M
y head bounced lazily, my limbs were weights. The breeze and rain water hit my skin in slow, lazy drops. But I never opened my eyes. I was in a semi-conscious state, too bogged down by whatever flowed through my veins. Hundreds of jerky footsteps later, I was comfortable again.

“
Shh,” another garbled voice told me. My body fell limply into a soft, pillowy form. I drifted in and out of consciousness.

The continual shush was the only thing I remembered before I woke up in the hospital bed with my Dad and Nona staring at me in horror. Their expressions were
ones I would remember forever.

“
Honey,” Dad said, his face full of agony.

Nona shot up from the hospital chair, coming to my side. For once she wasn’t her usual batty self. She placed a hand on my forehead. “We were worried about you,” she whispered, smoothing my hair.

I looked around the room, totally out of it. “How did I get here?” I whispered, hardly able to speak, my throat dry and sore.

“
Take it easy, darling,” Nona said, coaxing me into silence.

Dad raked his hands through his hair. He looked pained. I tried to remember what happened. My memory only accounted for parts of the morning, the spaghetti I ate with Slade and Tucker’s stepmom and her horrible insults.

A nurse tapped on the door, letting herself into the room. She was a burly woman, dressed all in white. “I want to take her vitals. Could you two step outside?” She stared at me as Nona and Dad left the room.

I allowed her to take my blood pressure.

“
Do you feel any better?”

I lifted my head to look at her. “I suppose so. I feel really groggy.”

“
That’s to be expected,” she said with a nod. She unstrapped the cuff, placing it on the table. Before I could ask what
that
was, she popped a thermometer in my mouth.

Another knock sounded
on the door. In walked a tall man in black dress pants and a gray jacket. He immediately pulled his hat off.

“
Ms. Zigler, my name is Officer Jeffries.” He gave a nod, coming to the other side of my bed.

“
Okay,” was all I said around the thermometer.

“
Are you up for some questions?” He took a seat in the chair Nona had been sitting in, pulling out a tablet and pen from his inner jacket pocket.

“
I guess…sure.” I cleared my throat.

Officer Jeffries tapped his pen on his thigh, looking me over. “Could you tell me what you remember about the attack?”

I held back the shock, then was gifted a couple more memories. I left the party feeling sick. I remembered walking on wobbly legs across the sand.