Very Wicked Things (16 page)

“Well, damn. I wasn’t expecting that.”

–
Cuba

I DROVE HOME thinking about Dovey. I made a mental plan to dig deeper about the Barinsky thing as soon as I saw her at school tomorrow. Maybe she’d let me help her.

But wasn’t getting close to her a bad idea? Hell, I didn’t know anymore.

A lot had changed today.

I pulled into the winding drive that led up to my house. A chateau-style monstrosity designed by a French architect, it had been built with stones from an old castle in Provence. Dad had had it built for my mother a few months after Cara’s death, hoping to cheer her up.

But it hadn’t worked.

Because you can’t bring back the dead.

Mother’s first two attempts at suicide were feeble efforts and she’d given glaring clues.

I knew why she did it. I mean, she’d always taken meds for her depression issues, but Cara’s death had sealed the deal. She blamed me for Cara the most, then my father for one thing or another, and then herself for leaving her with me that day.

The first time, I found her unresponsive from prescription pills. I’d been fourteen and had just come home from a school. She’d texted me earlier to make sure I was on schedule, and I should have known then that something was wrong, but you never want to believe that your parent wants to die.

I’d hated myself for what I’d made her do.

The second time, I’d just come home from football. I found her upstairs, this time in the tub, her wrists slit with an old razor blade of Dad’s. She’d cut herself the wrong way, horizontally instead of vertically. I watched the paramedics take care of her, taping up her bleeding arms, loading her in the ambulance.

My self-loathing grew.

Dad brought in more doctors and therapists for her. She even stayed in a treatment facility for a few days. She came out, claiming she was better, but her face was still hopeless, her shoulders still sunken. He flew her home to Brazil to see her parents. He tried everything, but nothing brought her back to the way she’d been before Cara. So he and I settled into a routine of watching her constantly. We even hired a sitter to be with her during the day. And when Dad was out of town, I picked up the slack. Trying to make up for not being vigilant when Cara had died.

And then the last time she’d tried—third time’s a charm, right?—I’d failed her in the worst way, proving that I’m useless when it comes to putting others needs before my own.

A white car parked in my spot brought me back to the present, and I squinted, recognizing Emma’s Lexus. I pulled in the garage and walked around to the front, thinking perhaps she was sitting by one of the statues on the front porch, but she wasn’t.

I called her on my cell and heard it ringing from the back of the house. Walking around the corner, I found her, curled up in the cold on a lounge chair by the pool. She’d thrown a towel across her legs.

“Didn’t know we had plans,” I said to her sleepy face as she stirred around. She looked almost sweet like this.

She pushed up and patted down mussed hair. “What time is it?” Her voice was small, not at all like Emma.

“Too late for you to be here. You didn’t call or text. What’s up?” I crossed my arms.

Her eyes flared and I noticed how nondescript the blue was. Nothing like Dovey’s.

“Do I have to make an appointment to see you? I thought we meant more to each other than that.” She stuck out her lip. “Don’t you even care about me a little? I thought we had fun last fall.”

I groaned. And here it was. The determine-the-relationship talk. I’d sensed it coming for a while.

She caressed my arm. “We haven’t been alone together for months. I miss you and the way you—”

“Stop,” I said, pulling back.

She harrumphed, body bristling. “I knew it. You don’t want me anymore. Just like Matt.”

“Hey, I’m nothing like that asshole. I never lied to you about what we were.” At her crushed face, I softened. “Is this about something he’s done?”

She sighed. “No. This is about us.”

I straightened up, needing the distance. I didn’t want to lead her on. “Why don’t you call me in the morning and we’ll talk. But right now, I just want to be alone.” To mull over Dovey and get trashed.

“You don’t love me,” she suddenly called out, catching me by surprise. “You want Dovey. Stupidest name I’ve ever heard, by the way.”

My gut tightened. “Emma, don’t be—”

“I’m pregnant,” she announced.

I stumbled back, crashing into one of the patio chairs. Nah, I misheard. She didn’t just say she was
pregnant
, did she? Because that was…

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated, her voice shrill.

I shook my head. Nope, she was definitely delusional. Very definitely confused because I used protection every single time. The only person I’d ever not used a condom with was…

“Say something,” she shouted, wringing her hands.

I sat down on the cold concrete.

“Are you sure?” My voice was low, my lungs losing air as her news settled.

She nodded, her eyes darting around the pool area. “Morning sickness doesn’t even describe what I have. It’s all day, every day. I’m exhausted and emotional. I hate the whole thing.”

“But have you seen a doctor?” Right? Like draw blood or something? I had no idea.

“I don’t need a doctor. I took a test at home…and…and it’s not the first time, okay. It’s not. I know what it’s like, you see, because last year, with Matt— ” her voice cracked.

“What happened last year?”

“I took care of it because of my father’s television show and the scandal it would cause. I did what I had to do. You understand, right?”

What?
I gripped my head, taking in all the info she was slamming me with.

“What am I going to do?” she exclaimed. “Please, don’t be like Matt. He didn’t speak to me for months when I told him I was pregnant. Don’t do that to me. I—I can’t take it if you do.”

Fuuucccck
. I bent over and put my head between my legs, because her words were insane and I couldn’t do this and
what the hell was I going to do
?

This was a whole other different level than anything.

A real living thing I was responsible for…

And the truth of it hit me. Hard. It flashed like a neon sign in my head: a real baby. Mine.

Diapers, tiny clothes with snaps, pacifiers, and then holding it and rocking it, and I don’t even know what all else. It all crashed into my head and I wanted to deny, deny, deny.

But the truth was I’d slept with Emma.

My stomach did some crazy topsy-turvy thing, and I jumped up and ran over to the bushes, vomiting up everything. I gagged and retched until my throat was sore, glad to finally get it all out. My nausea had been boiling up and rolling around since this morning.

She started sobbing.

I hung my head, staring at nothing.

What would we do?

Was I going to run from this too?

“Tell me you aren’t going to get rid of it,” I rasped, wiping my mouth as I stood. She blanched and looked down guiltily, indecision on her face.

“Emma, wait,” I said, thinking of the baby Cara had been.

The tears came harder and louder then, her shoulders shaking.

She gulped in air. “I want to move to New York City. I want an acting career. Not a
baby
.”

She had dreams. I got that. But…

I walked over to her, trying to not let my legs buckle. “I’ll take care of you, but you’re not the only one in this scenario, Emma. Think about me, too.” I crawled in the chair where she sat and wrapped my arms around her.

“I can’t tell my parents. They’ll lock me away. My dad will never forgive me.” She buried her nose in my chest.

An image of her father came to mind. Being a televangelist, you’d think he’d be the epitome of love for mankind, but he wasn’t. His messages were hateful and loud, honing in on sinners, warning them about hell. He was not an easy man.

I sighed. “You won’t be alone. We’ll tell them together.”

She sniffed. “You’d do that for me?”

The enormity of what lay ahead settled on my shoulders.

“Yeah, of course. I want to take care of what’s mine.”

And for once, I’d be doing the right thing.

“You believe you’ll never fall, but then you wake-up,

just another notch on his bedpost
.”

–
Dovey

EARLY THE NEXT day, I woke up to my car being delivered by a man from a service station in Highland Park. I tried to pay him, but he said it had been taken care of. Cuba. Of course, it hurt my pride, but what could I do? I needed every penny now until I could figure out the Alexander situation.

Giving in and operating in a daze, I tucked the eight balls into an inside pocket of my dance bag and waltzed into school like it was an ordinary day. It made me jittery and twitchy. I pictured me in handcuffs being led out to a police car. Or me watching an ambulance take away one of my classmates who’d overdosed.

I was a criminal.

I trudged to my locker and Cuba was already there, leaning against it, his eyes skimming through the crowd, as if he were looking for someone.

I didn’t fool myself into thinking it was me.

Sweat immediately popped out all over my body.

Would he speak to me today or would we resume our stand-off?

And then I got dizzy at the thought of him finding out I was dealing dope.

His eyes landed on me and stayed, skating over my yellow and navy argyle printed tights and blue miniskirt. I’d paired it with a pair of neon yellow two inch heels from Heather-Lynn’s closet. A throw back from the sixties, they were a tad clunky, but I’d wear anything.

“You’re a fashion disaster, you know that?” he said with a small smile when I opened my locker.

“Not a blind slut?”

He paled. “Shit. I’m sorry for saying that.”

I shrugged. “You have to admit, my outfits do make it hard not to look, huh?”

He did a double-take at my remark, and I couldn’t have made it any plainer to him. But, he let it go.

“Did the Mercedes come back? Or the men?” he inquired, eyes intent on my face.

I blinked, racking my brain for what to tell him.

Here’s the thing, last night I’d lain in bed after leaving the warehouse, debating on whether or not I could ask Cuba for the money. I was tempted to, but telling him meant I’d have to explain I was the unwanted child of a mobster and his whore. Yet, at the end of the day, I could swallow my pride and reveal my secrets for Sarah. But, on the other hand, Cuba didn’t get my world. He’d never ransacked his house searching for food; he’d never walked the streets with a sock full of rocks; he’d never been
cold
. Scenarios flashed through my mind of him calling the police or perhaps even something as simple as telling his father who then called the police. I just didn’t trust him, not after last year.

And most importantly, involving him might put him in serious danger. They
were
following me now.

I sighed. No. I was on my own.

I waved my hand. “Huge misunderstanding. Sarah woke up and explained the whole thing. She never borrowed the money. They actually had us confused with one of the renters.” Which could only be Heather-Lynn, but he didn’t know that. “So, we passed along their message this morning, and the person who borrowed the money is taking care of it. See, no biggie.”