Slave to the Rhythm (31 page)

The room exploded. Ash’s chair crashed to the floor as he rounded the table to get to Collin. Paddy was there first, hauling Collin up by his collar, which tore free with a loud ripping sound. Collin bounced back against the table, sending glasses and plates flying. Aunt Lydia screamed and Dad was shouting, the room in uproar. Paddy’s brothers Stephen and Eric were pulling Ash’s arms behind his back as he bucked and fought them, shouting in his own language, words that sounded like curses. Uncle Donald ran into the kitchen to help Dad and Uncle Paul manhandle Collin from the room, although he wasn’t putting up much of a fight.

Ash was still swearing up a storm as Collin was dragged away.

“Ash, no!”

For the second time this evening, I was trying to talk Ash down. The rage in his eyes still glowed, but I could see him slowly regain control. He wrenched his arms free and stalked out of the room.

Paddy grinned at me. “That went well.”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, Laney. You’re married to that guy?”

“Seriously—yes.”

Paddy shrugged. “At least you didn’t marry the prick.”

“Why does everyone call him that? Collin is
not
a prick. He’s just . . .”

“A prick,” said Stephen and Eric together.

I sighed. “He’s hurt and angry. I can’t blame him.”

“Did he really ask you to marry him?”

“Yes, he did. Oh God, I’m such a horrible person!”

Paddy slung his arm around my shoulders.

“Nah, you’re not so bad. Sure made the party start with a bang though. Well, come on. I want to meet the man who finally put a ring on it.”

“You make me sound like an old maid.”

Paddy winked at me. “If the ring fits.”

I gave him a different finger, but he just laughed.

Ash was sitting on the front porch, staring up at the stars as cigarette smoke hung in lazy swirls around him.

“Laylay, I’m so sorry . . .”

But when he saw my cousins flanking me, his words dried and he stood abruptly, grinding the cigarette butt under his boot, his stance defensive.

“Welcome to the family,” smiled Paddy, slapping Ash on the shoulder. “That’s quite a temper you’ve got on you. Any Irish blood in there?”

Ash shook his head, his eyes darting to mine.

I poked Paddy in the arm and made the introductions as we all trooped back into the house.

“Well,” said Aunt Lydia, venturing out to the hallway again, “Collin is sleeping it off in the other guestroom, so . . . since you’re a married couple, this way.”

She led us to one of the smaller bedrooms.

“Sorry, Laney,” she said apologetically as we squeezed in, eyeing the narrow twin bed. “I thought you’d be in here by yourself. I was going to put Ash in the guestroom, but . . .”

“That’s fine, Aunt Lydia,” I said weakly.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in,” she said, glancing at Ash. “And then I think we’d all like to meet your new husband properly.”

She closed the door behind her and I collapsed onto the bed.

“This is a total nightmare,” I groaned.

I felt the small mattress dip as Ash sat next to me.

“Maybe it’s better this way.”

I sat up and glared at him. “How on earth is it better?”

“We don’t have to lie anymore.”

“Are you kidding me? Of
course
we’ll have to lie. You don’t know my family! The questions will be endless. Mom will be pushing for a church blessing, and we’ll be everyone’s favorite topic of conversation for the next decade!”

Ash shrugged. “They’ll soon forget about it.”

My eyes bulged.

“Two years from now we’ll be divorced, right? Old news.”

He looked away as I studied him.

“Right.”

He gave a humorless laugh and sat with his back toward me.

I unbuttoned my coat and tossed it onto the tiny bed.

“I’m going to go downstairs and . . . I don’t know . . . try and calm things down. Just be prepared for a
lot
of questions.” I reached down to touch his cheek. “I’m sorry about this.”

He surprised me by leaning into my hand, his eyes closed.

“I should be apologizing to you. I do, Laney. I’m sorry . . . for everything.”

I sighed, feeling the soft prickle of five o’clock shadow against my palm. Then the moment passed and he pulled away.

As I turned to walk out of the room, I paused by the door.

“Don’t forget to change your shirt.”

Ash glanced at the blood spattered across the white cotton and nodded.

Ash

I COULDN’T BELIEVE
how badly that had gone.

Parents usually liked me once they met me: mothers loved that I danced, and fathers appreciated that I worked in construction—steady job, macho bullshit. Laney’s family must have hated me for putting her in danger before they even met me. God knows what they thought now. The prick was going to have some questions to answer when he sobered up.

But that wasn’t what bothered me the most. Twice tonight, I’d completely lost it. I used to be a nice guy. I was competitive, I wanted to win, but I’d never been violent. But all that had changed. I’d wanted to hurt those men in the street, really hurt them. End them.

I stared at my swollen knuckles, rubbing at a smear of blood. Christ, I nearly killed that one guy. If Laney hadn’t stopped me, I could have.

When he told me to suck his dick, I’d heard Sergei’s voice, seen Sergei’s face, and I couldn’t stop hitting him. In my mind, I was hitting Sergei—seeing his leering face as he pointed a gun at me, as he jerked off, as he fucked my mouth. I wanted to puke.

I tore off my coat and strode down the hallway until I found a small bathroom. I retched into the toilet, nearly turning my stomach inside out. I’d probably never stop feeling like that when I thought about the evil bastard still walking, still stealing air, ruining lives.

Wiping my face with my sleeve, I pulled my shirt over my head and used it as a towel. There had been a guest towel in our bedroom but I couldn’t be bothered to go back for it.

I looked around, giving my stomach time to stop trying to climb up my throat.

The bathroom was nice, homey, with an old fashioned claw-foot tub and pine cabinets. I didn’t belong here.

When I walked back out, a kid of 13 or 14 was waiting outside, leaning against the wall and playing on his phone.

He didn’t speak as he sidled past me into the bathroom, and in return I just nodded at him. But then he called after me.

“Dude! What happened to your back?”

I hung my shirt over my shoulder, covering up some of the scars.

“Accident.”

“Woah! That’s totally messed up. Cool!” He paused, squinting at me. “Kind of looks like you got stabbed like a hundred times.”

“Something like that.”

He nodded sagely. “Awesome. You’re Aunt Laney’s husband. Everyone’s talking about you.”

He closed the door and I heard the lock click.

“Awesome,” I agreed.

I found my way back to the tiny bedroom and pulled a clean t-shirt out of my gym bag. I only had one more button-up shirt to wear and I was saving that for tomorrow. Then I saw beer stains on my chinos, probably from the prick flailing around.

I changed into my jeans then went back to the empty bathroom to try and scrub the stain off of my pants. It reminded me of being away for the competition circuit and staying in cheap hotels—you managed with very little.

Taking a deep breath, I headed back down the stairs: showtime.

The house was crammed with people. It was hard to find Laney over the heads of all the tall red-haired men who were obviously related to her dad. It wasn’t just the hair that gave them away, but the way they watched me as if I was a suspect. Laney had said they were in the Fire Department, but they looked like cops to me. I wondered how much they’d been told—Christ, maybe they all knew everything.

I finally found Laney in a room next to the kitchen. She was chopping vegetables, but it looked more like an interrogation as the women sitting with her questioned her about me. I rested my hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. It was more than just for show; it was an apology, too.

“
Moj sonček
,” I whispered as she smiled up at me.

“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?”

“No.”

I realized that the room had gone silent and everyone was staring at us. Laney gave me a conspiratorial smile, then returned to chopping vegetables.

The kid I’d met earlier got yelled at for trying to steal one of the freshly-baked cookies. If I thought I could have gotten away with it, I’d have done the same.

“I’m bored,” the kid complained. “No one wants to play
Black Ops III
.”

“Nolan, no one wants to play those horrible games. Go watch TV or something.”

“I’ll play you.”

Laney gave me a look.

“What?”

“I just didn’t know you liked that nerdy stuff.”

Nolan huffed. “It’s not nerdy! It’s cool.”

I winked at her and stood up straight to follow the boy, who was staring at the cookies again.

Laney took pity on him, handing us two each and waving away the irritated huffing of the other women.

“Go shoot stuff,” she laughed.

For a moment, my thoughts darkened. If I’d had a gun around Sergei . . .

Her mom stopped me as I took my first bite of cookie.

“Laney tells us you’re a dancer, Ash.”

I chewed and swallowed quickly. “Yeah. Yes, ma’am.”

“I imagine that’s not a very secure profession.”

“No, ma’am.”

“So how do you propose to support my daughter?”

“Mom!” Laney snapped. “I support myself. I always have.”

“Good Heavens, Laney! There’s no need to bite my head off! I’m just trying to get to know your new husband.”

“You can ask me anything, Mrs. Hennessey.”

“No you can’t, Mom,” Laney said flatly.

There was an uncomfortable silence, then I followed Nolan out of the room.

Laney

“He plays video games? How old is he?” Aunt Lydia asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Lots of people like those, but since you asked, he’s 23.”

“He looks younger.”

Sometimes he did, especially when he was freshly shaved, but his eyes were old. They’d seen too much and experienced all the wrong things.

“Laney looks younger than her age, too,” my sister Bernice said with a wink. “And I’ve gotta say, that’s a fine-looking man. Nice going, sis.”

“Really, Bernie! This isn’t a laughing matter,” Mom complained. Then she turned her attention back to me. “And what about his family? I presume he does have a family? What do they think of this secret marriage? Or maybe you told
them.
”

Mom was being very waspish. She was hurt, I knew that, so I bit my tongue and tried to answer calmly and comprehensively.

“His mother died when he was 15 and he’s not close to his father. Ash left home when he was 18 and has supported himself working in construction.”

“Well, I suppose that’s something,” Mom huffed, not very sincerely.

“But his passion is dancing. He’s a champion in his own country, but wanted to broaden his horizons.”

“And he got mixed up in all that unpleasant business in Las Vegas,” Mom added. “Some people just attract trouble.”

I slammed down my knife and stood abruptly.

“Since he’s been in this country, he’s been victimized and abused. I’d hoped that my own family would treat
my husband
better.”

And I stormed out of the kitchen.

As a rule, I wasn’t someone who stormed out of places, but Mom was dig, dig, digging, trying to get under my skin. Well, she succeeded, and I wasn’t going to have her do the same to Ash.

My uncles and cousins were all crammed into the family room watching an action movie with my dad. Kids were running around the house, high on sugar and excitement. I helped Lottie braid her hair, and broke up a fight between James and Kevin. A series of gunshots and explosions eventually drew me to Uncle Paul’s study where I found Ash sitting with Nolan, frowning in concentration. I stood and watched for a while before Ash glanced up and saw me.

“Everything okay, Laney?”

That made me laugh. “Of course. What could possibly be wrong?”

His lips twisted in a wry smile, but it was Nolan who answered.

“Granddad and Grandma are mad because they think he married you to stay in Chicago. Uncle Paddy says it’s no one’s business, and Aunt Carmen says that you should have married Collin. But I don’t like him—he never talks to me. I wish I’d seen you fight him. Trisha and Amelia said he’s cute, but they’re totally lame.”

Nolan’s verbal vomit left Ash looking bemused. Nolan was on the autism spectrum and didn’t always pick up on social cues. But at least now we knew what everyone was thinking.

“Okaaaay then,” I smiled. “Ash, I’m going to lie down for a bit. Come find me when you’re finished.”

He nodded as something exploded on the screen and I left him to it.

I’d hoped to escape everyone, but I’d barely sat on the bed in the guestroom when Mom knocked and walked in immediately after.

“Mom, I . . .”

“You will listen to me, Laney Kathleen Hennessey!”