Streamline (2 page)

“Uh, just an ibuprofen. My shoulder’s been bothering me. Gotta run.” Leo bolted and didn’t look back.

Audrey turned, but didn’t move, a crease across her forehead.

He’d never complained about his shoulder before.

The pink stucco house was eerily quiet when Leo entered the front door.

Six years ago the Scotts had lived in more luxurious surroundings, but his mother’s burgeoning medical expenses had forced them to scale back to their current two-bedroom home. Leo and his older brother, Jason, had to share a bedroom, which had only added tension to their already strained relationship.

Ironically, now that Leo had his own space, he wished Jason still shared his room.

Despite a history of cruel teasing and physical domination, Jason had always protected his younger brother when it came to their father.

That protection had not been appreciated by Commander Scott, and the resulting conflict had yet to be resolved. The Scotts had not seen Jason in four years.

Leo took a deep breath, steeling himself as he entered his father’s study, but it was empty. He then followed the sound of his mother’s voice to the kitchen.

“This detention’s the first time he’s gotten in trouble his entire high school career,” she pleaded.

His father’s voice was icy. “Other than his suspension, you mean?” When Leo entered the kitchen, his parents’ conversation halted.

Naval Commander James Scott stood stiffly by the sink, his khaki uniform complementing his ebony skin and neatly cropped black hair. James was an excellent physical specimen: six-two with a muscular, V-shaped body. His strong shoulders tapered down to a lean waist and solid, sculpted legs. His handsome face lent him a smooth charm, which he worked on nearly everyone he met.

Leo looked directly into his father’s stormy hazel gaze. Leo read his father’s eyes like a weather report. A cool gray indicated smooth seas and sunny skies. When the gray morphed into violet, there was a hurricane brewing — time to abandon ship. It was no coincidence that “violet” was one letter away from “violent” when it came to his father’s eyes. Leo realized he hardly ever saw them shine warm brown anymore, like they had when he and Jason were younger.

As he watched, his father’s eyes darkened. He felt a catch in his throat. “Good evening, Dad.”

His father remained silent and frowned, seemingly at the frayed hem of Leo’s jeans.

Leo turned to his mother. Her alabaster skin hadn’t seen the sun in quite some time, but she remained beautiful, with long blond hair and arresting blue eyes. Leo always tried to keep his focus on her face instead of looking at the ugly braces on her legs. Mary Scott leaned on her canes to stir a saucepan of jambalaya on the stove.

Leo gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek.

“How was practice, sweetie?”

“Not so good, Mom.” Leo looked down.

His father cleared his throat. “Your mother said dinner’s almost ready. Go put your bag in your room and wash up.”

“Yes, sir.” Leo quickly left the tension of the kitchen behind him, but returned all too soon.

Dinner was a nightmare as usual. His mother attempted to initiate several conversations, but each died quickly and silence descended.

Leo’s stomach was in knots, and he ate very little, though he should’ve been starving. Matt was constantly on his case to build more muscle.

He wouldn’t be pleased to see him playing with his food.

As his parents finished their meal, Leo noticed a familiar glazed look in his mother’s eyes and watched her retreat into a calm, sedated state. She’d taken one of her pain meds before dinner.

Feeling the heat of his father’s stare, Leo looked up from his mostly full plate.

“Meet me in the car in five, wearing running clothes,” his father ordered.

His mother jumped as Leo’s chair scraped the floor.

As Leo ran into his room, his mind raced. So the punishment would be physical training, which had to be better than getting hit.

The beatings had escalated over the past six years, and Leo shuddered, recalling how his father had responded to his school suspension two months ago.

He changed quickly and scuttled down the stairs to join his father in the car.

As they stood together on the Pensacola High School track ten minutes later, Leo realized they were all alone in the encroaching darkness.

“What was the detention for, Leo?”

He’d been waiting for this question since the moment he’d stepped inside his front door. Leo instinctively stood at attention, his eyes straight ahead and his shoulders back. “Mrs. Boyd caught me with a disrespectful note in class, sir.”

“It better not be you who wrote it.”

“No, sir.”

“Who wrote it, then?”

His father now stood right next to him, speaking quietly in his ear. Leo paused. When he’d mentioned Audrey’s involvement in his suspension two months ago, his father had exploded. But the punishment would surely increase if his father caught him in a lie now.

“Audrey, sir.”

Leo felt his father’s hot breath on the side of his face. “Give me fifty.”

He dropped to the spongy track and silently counted his pushups. His strong arms pumped up and down fluidly as he focused on making a perfectly straight line from his head to his feet.

As he passed the first thirty, his mind wandered back to the pushup contest his father had refereed when he’d been twelve and Jason seventeen. Leo had surprised everyone by pumping out over one-hundred pushups to Jason’s seventy-five. Jason, a basketball player, was strong, but his upper-body strength was no match for a swimmer’s.

Their father had mocked Jason mercilessly for losing to a boy five years his junior. As his father screamed, Leo had silently prayed his mouthy brother would keep his trap shut for once.

But instead Jason had yelled, “Get outta my face, you pompous Navy prick!”

Their father had immediately punched Jason in the gut. Leo had felt the sting of each blow as if he were the one getting hit. Jason had missed a week of school after that particular thrashing.

By the third set of fifty pushups, Leo could feel each one of the ten thousand meters he’d swum that day, and his arms began to shake.

He completed fifteen more pushups, but his pace slowed and form wobbled. It was clear he was about to collapse.

His father finally ordered him to rise. “One mile warm-up,” he added, falling into step beside Leo. The two loped around the track four times. A casual observer might have thought it sweet that father and son were jogging together, but Leo knew what was coming.

After the warm-up, his father fixed a measured stare on him.

“You’re doing mile repeats, starting at six-thirty and decreasing the interval by fifteen seconds each time.” Leo closed his eyes. At least at that blazing pace, the torture wouldn’t last long. He started the first mile with a strong kick. He’d have to hustle to make the interval. He finished the first mile in 6:15, and had barely stopped when his father sent him off on the next.

Between gasps, Leo wondered how long he could run before col apsing or vomiting.
What a fun game
. When the punishment was a beating, the game was how long Leo could last before crying.

Two months ago he’d refused to cry, despite his father’s crushing blows. He wondered if his lack of tears was why his father had chosen PT instead tonight.

Leo got two seconds’ rest after the second mile before beginning the third, and he felt bile in the back of his throat as he rounded the second turn. He convulsed and leaned over the inner rim of the track to vomit onto the grass. His body writhed in the agony of being pushed to the absolute limit.

After heaving for several minutes, Leo stumbled back toward his father, dizzy and disoriented.

His father appeared satisfied. “No more disrespecting your teachers.”

He managed a feeble “Yes, sir” as they made their way to the car.

Leo continued to pant through the ride home, his clothes stuck to his body with sweat. “Am I grounded?” he finally asked.

His father’s mouth curled in disgust. “Getting grounded is for losers.”

Leo stared out at the passing palm trees. Apparently a real man had to be barfing or beaten. He wasn’t so thrilled about becoming a man.

Audrey sat in her car, attempting to psych up enough to enter the cement building fronted by a row of bushes and barbed-wire fence. Visiting hours would be over soon, but she felt glued to the vinyl seat.

An old CD — a remnant from Audrey’s childhood — played on her car stereo. “Gracie” was a sweet song from a father to his daughter, and Audrey’s father had often substituted her name, singing “Audrey girl” instead of “Gracie girl.” The rolling piano and singer’s earnest voice made Audrey pause every time.

She finally kicked open the car door and scurried to the entrance before she could turn back. She tucked a strand of damp auburn hair behind her ear as she passed by the building’s stark sign:
Naval Air
Station Pensacola, Military Prison.

Inside she approached a baby-faced Military Police officer, who couldn’t have been much older than she was. His eyes traveled over her as he registered her as a visitor. Audrey wore her slim jeans low on her hips, her lean midriff peeking out below her white ruffled shirt. Feeling the MP’s dirty eyes on her made her shiver. Typically she’d give the guy a direct, defiant stare until he looked away, but the prison threw her. She averted her eyes until the MP led her into the visiting room.

Drumming her fingers on the counter, Audrey stared at the empty chair behind the Plexiglas window.
Three months
. Her father had only been a prisoner for three months, yet so much had changed.

And this was only the beginning of his sentence.

Another MP escorted former Lt. Commander Dennis Rose into the visiting room. Audrey smiled wanly, taking in her father’s navy prison jumpsuit. He looked tired and hopeless. They’d shaved his brown hair — probably some regulation in the brig — which made him seem younger and more vulnerable. He appeared to have shrunk since the court martial.

Awkwardly picking up the phone with handcuffed wrists, her father waited until Audrey followed suit across the glass. “You look beautiful, honey.”

“How, um, how’s it’s going, Dad?”

“It’s fine.”

She blinked nervously. He didn’t
sound
fine. “Any word on the transfer?”

“Leavenworth’s still over capacity.” He gave her a tight smile.

“Commander Scott visited me today. He’s been the only officer standing by me through all of this.” He paused. “How’s the college search going?”

“Good.”

Audrey brightened. She couldn’t wait for college — her chance to leave the shame of being Denny Rose’s daughter behind. All over Pensacola she caught piteous glances and heard the whispers.
That
girl’s father is a murderer.

“I have recruiting trips lined up at Northwestern and Florida State,” she said. “The FSU coach thinks he can offer me a full ride.”
And you know I need one
, she added silently.

“What about the Naval Academy?” her dad asked.

Audrey’s brown eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest that. I want
nothing
to do with the military.” Her dad’s gaze shifted to the MP monitoring their conversation in a side booth.

Audrey ignored him. “They completely shafted you, Dad — sentencing you to life in prison without a shred of evidence. I want nothing to do with them.”

“Calm down. Wishing things were different won’t make them so. I must’ve killed him, Audrey…I — I just can’t recall the how or why.” His voice rose as he squeezed the phone. “I wish I could remember that night!”

Feeling tears bubble up, Audrey looked away. “I know you’re not a murderer. You didn’t kill Lt. Commander Walsh.”

“Well, a jury of my peers says I did.” When she looked back at him she caught a glimpse of pain in his eyes. Then his features settled into stone. “I…I don’t want you coming here anymore. I want you to forget about me. You have a bright future. Go live your life, Audrey.” Her lips parted, and she stared at him dumbly.

“I’m an anchor,” he said. “I just bring you and your mom down.

I — I can’t be there for you. Your graduation…college swim meets…

your wedding…” He swallowed. “Don’t waste your time on me.” Tears now slid down Audrey’s cheeks.

“Just forget about me. Do you understand?” Shaking her head, she stared at her father through a veil of tears.

“No, sir. I
won’t
forget about you!” Audrey slammed the phone back into the cradle and ran out of the room, her palm pressed to her mouth.

Leo lightly pressed the car horn, cringing when a loud honk resonated through the still darkness of pre-dawn. Audrey emerged from her house, toting her swim bag, and a grin spread across her face as she identified his rusty car.

Sliding into the passenger seat, she gave him a quizzical look. “I thought Laney was picking me up.”

Leo put the car in reverse. “I called her last night and told her I’d get you. I hope I didn’t wake your mom.” Audrey shook her head. “She’s in Birmingham.” He frowned. Mrs. Rose had to start travel nursing to pay the bills, and she often left Audrey alone for weeks at a time.

Yawning, Audrey snuggled up to him. “I’m so happy you’re not grounded. What happened with your dad?” Leo smiled. Draping his arm around her shoulders, he shook off his morning sleepiness. “Just a little PT. No big deal. But I was up till midnight writing that stupid paper for Mr. Morrison.” He guided the car through the empty streets toward the high school. “How’d it go with
your
dad?” Audrey took a while to respond. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“That good, huh?” Leo always felt a stab of hurt when Audrey shut him out, but to be fair, she knew very little about what really went on in his family. It was too embarrassing for anyone to know he was afraid of his father.

“It’s just — we get so little time together…I don’t want to bring you down by talking about my dad.”

Leo squeezed her shoulder and kissed the crown of her head, keeping his eyes on the road. “You could never bring me down. Just seeing you brightens my day, every time.” After a moment she choked out, “He told me never to visit him again. He told me to forget about him.”