Page 34 of Savage

We ran slightly over but Jaxon didn’t interrupt us. He stood, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded over his chest and waited patiently until we had finished.

Pushing my phone, notebook, and pen into my bag, I thanked both men and asked them if they wished to see my piece once it was written. I explained that their stories would be shared anonymously.

The car journey on the way home was oddly quiet. Jaxon didn’t ask me about how the interviews went, but as we arrived home, he did remind me that he wanted to see my article before I submitted it.

I thanked him and was rewarded with a grunt as he locked the car. He then set off for the house, leaving me to shuffle along after him. His mood swings could give even the most tolerant person whiplash. I didn’t push it and when we got inside the hallway, we went our different ways.

Later that evening, I sat in my room at my writing desk and pulled out my notes. It took around an hour to finish my first draft. I reread it a couple of times, realising that it was in no way finished and that it was too one-sided. If I wanted it in the paper, I needed to document that I had explored all avenues of army life before my conclusion. The biggest thing I unearthed was that there wasn’t enough support in place for soldiers. The occupational health visits sounded mediocre and too infrequent to ensure that people in the military were looked after, both emotionally as well as physically.

I placed my glasses on the table and rubbed my eyes, just as my mother shouted up the stairs to say that dinner was in one hour. Again, another dinner together. What was going on? Were Daisy and Marcus on a mission to try and make us into a real family now they were expecting?

I had called Dominic earlier to fill him in about the interviews, but I could tell he was doing that active listening thing and that he wasn’t really listening to me. About ten minutes into the conversation, I found out why.

Dominic had been offered a photoshoot opportunity in Paris to cover fashion week. It was only one contract but it could lead to more work and the pay was excellent. His enthusiasm surprised me as he’d always slagged off that type of photography, stating that he was more into capturing gritty stuff and real life. I agreed that he shouldn’t turn it down. He explained that he would be away from the following Saturday for a full two weeks. To be honest, I kind of welcomed the distance as he had become quite full on the last couple of times we’d hung out in my room. He knew I wasn’t ready to have sex yet and the last time he’d thrown what I would describe as a mild man tantrum. Something I hadn’t liked. As I said before, I would not be pressured into having sex too soon. It just wasn’t happening.

Rolling my shoulders, I exhaled noisily; my body had started to ache in strange places. Physically I had stretched myself too far that morning, but I’d been so determined not to allow Jaxon to say I told you so. If I had failed, I’d have hated myself for it.

After showering, I put on fresh underwear, a pair of ripped jeans and a pale blue camisole. It was pretty and edged with lace along the neckline. My friend Melody told me the colour matched my eyes and the cut complemented my small but reasonable cleavage. I then pulled my long black hair up into a messy bun. I kept my face free of make-up, thinking that dinner would only include me, Daisy, and Marcus (and possibly Chris) so I didn’t feel the need for any protective war paint.

As I padded barefoot down the stairs and toward the dining room, I could hear a variety of voices. I strained to listen, as Marcus said something like. “Everyone on their best behaviour.” I couldn’t be sure, but it was along those lines. Great. That type of warning meant that Jaxon had to be there. Everyone else got on fine.

The smell from dinner was spicy and my tummy rumbled, I was starving. I checked my appearance in one of the mirrors which was set on the wall in the corridor leading to the dining room. I looked OK. A bit young without any makeup and my hair looked stylish if not a bit messy. I didn’t want to make it look like I’d dressed up at the end of the day. That would send out the wrong message. I quickly yanked my slightly damp hair from its top knot, knowing I felt better with it down. Pushing the hairband onto my wrist, I then soothed the strands down over my shoulders. Better.

As I turned the corner, the double dining room doors were open with various smells now lingering. The room was large with windows looking out onto the gardens. The dining table seated eight people and was made from polished oak. The walls were panelled with wood halfway up and the curtains and painted walls were a light grey to match the thick carpet. It was a traditional type of dining room and I usually did my work in there as the large windows let in loads of natural light.

I entered the room, curious to establish exactly who would be at dinner. My eyes darted around the space and I felt my heart sink as I saw that everyone was there.

Jaxon and Chris sat at the opposite side of the table, both slouched in their seats and Marcus and my mother were on my side. They were handing out crockery and placing food on the table from a trolly they had wheeled in from the kitchen. Daisy smiled as she saw me and I returned it.

As my gaze moved from Jaxon to his other side, my mood plummeted further. Molly fucking Andrews. Marcus’s stepdaughter and Jaxon's and Chris’s stepsister; aka the Antichrist. Her sudden appearance felt like some type of invasion; talk about a shock to the system. I couldn’t help but gawk across the table as I walked to an empty chair beside my mother.

Molly’s eyes were almost black they were that dark and I could feel them drilling into me as I dropped into my seat. She had been in conversation with Jaxon but had stopped talking as she saw me. Great, it appeared dinner was going to be long, drawn out and an extremely tedious affair. The way it usually was when we were all together. I pushed thoughts of the nightmare of last Christmas from my mind.

My mother and stepfather both greeted me as I placed my hands on the table and started fiddling with my placemat. They were still handing out plates and preparing to serve what smelled quite delicious.

“Chilli Con Carne tonight love,” Marcus said, passing me a plate. I noticed how Molly’s eyes narrowed at the endearment. I plastered on a smile as my stomach lurched. I had purposefully left the seat next to her empty and gone for the one next to my mother. I didn’t do it to make a statement, but I knew she took it as a snub as she eyed the empty seat and then me. Oh dear, had I unwillingly provoked the beast?

Molly Adele Andrews was slightly older than me at twenty-one and had hated me at first sight for some strange reason. My stepfather reassured me she’d come around eventually and that I wasn’t to take it personally. Supposedly she didn’t take well to strangers. Like a dog, I’d thought at the time.

I watched her slyly over the table, attempting to imagine her with a personality.

She ignored me which was a surprise and started speaking to Jaxon again. Molly usually looked at me like she was sizing up the competition. I’d never understood their relationship. It was obvious she fancied the pants off Jaxon, why wouldn’t she; she had a vagina. Part of me had wondered if they’d ever slept together which would have explained the weirdness I felt when in their company. Even if nothing had happened between them, they did not act like a regular stepbrother and stepsister. Rich I know, considering Jaxon and I didn’t either.

Molly had chosen a seat at the head of the table and was her predictable smug self. Insta-hate radiated from her. Those first few times we had met I had attempted to give her the benefit of the doubt but her constant poor behaviour had soon crapped all over my tolerance levels.

There was a strange quiet in the room which was only interrupted by clanging plates and the occasional mumbling as Marcus instructed Daisy where to put what from the trolly.

“Look who’s decided to come to tea,” my stepfather added, flicking his head toward Molly. He had obviously noticed that we hadn’t greeted each other. As if I hadn’t seen her with that new firecracker hair, she was fashioning. On this occasion, it was dyed a bright rich chestnut. She’d also had it cut and it sat on her shoulders looking as pristine as the rest of her. Molly loved changing her hair all the time. It was a shame she wasn’t as successful at changing her personality.

“Spicy or mild chilli sweetie? Or is that a silly question?” my mother asked. She knew I never went for the spicy stuff.

As rude as ever, Molly spoke over me. “Spicy for me please Daisy,” she interjected, holding out her plate. Yeah, like your personality, I thought.

“Let me guess, mild for you Wynter, oh and hello by the way,” Molly snarked. Pointing out that I hadn’t acknowledged her presence and in one fell swoop, making me look like the rude bitch. She was the reason God created the middle finger which I was fashioning from beneath the table.

Let the small talk commence. She then shot me a fake smile. She always made me feel like a loser. “Hi Molly, what a surprise. You look well.” A polite loser at least. “Yes, please mum, Molly’s right. Mild for me.” At my words, Jaxon grunted into his plate which had already been filled. Both he and Chris were waiting for everyone else to be ready to eat, dinner time etiquette and all that. When Molly had her plate back, she immediately started to roll the food around her plate with the fork. As usual, no one commented.

“You should go for the spicy for a change Wyn. Take a risk,” Molly laughed with an encouraging wink. Bitch, trying to make out I was dull.

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