Page 71 of The Goal

“Go watch TV,” I tell him as I pull out butter, milk, and a block of cheddar cheese.

“Nah, I like seeing your ass in the kitchen. It’s just as good as any show.” He folds his arms behind his head and leans back. I can feel his beady eyes following my every sluggish move.

The bread looks surprisingly inviting and I tear off a small piece, chewing it slowly to see if I can keep it down. When my stomach doesn’t send it straight back in revolt, I eat another small piece. After a few moments, the dizziness and queasiness subside.

The cast-iron pan is already on the stove, and I have the sandwich ready to brown in no time.

“Don’t forget the soup, missy.”

I rub the side of my neck with my middle finger before crossing the room to grab a can of soup out of the cupboard.

“Why are you such an asshole?” I ask conversationally as I root around in the drawer for the can opener. “Is it because you’re a worthless sack of shit and can’t bear to look at yourself in the mirror? Or is it because the only woman you can con into your bed these days is a member of the AARP?”

“I’ve got plenty of pussy, don’t you worry about me. Someday you’re going to fall off your high horse and come crawling to me.” He makes a gross smacking sound with his mouth. “And maybe I’ll agree to fuck you, or maybe I’ll just let you suck me off when I feel like it.”

I’d rather kill myself.

No, I correct, I’d kill him first.

As I operate the can opener, I fantasize about the sharp lid coming off and winging across the room and slicing Ray’s dick off. Then the acid of the tomato hits my nose, and an overwhelming urge to vomit washes over me.

I drop everything and race to the bathroom, where I throw up for the third time today.

18

TUCKER

New Year’s Eve

At quarter past two, Sabrina appears at the entrance of the club. Her brown hair is pulled up in a high ponytail and she’s thrown a long coat over her skimpy waitressing uniform. An older lady exits behind her. The two exchange words, pausing under the dimly lit entrance.

My heart starts thumping erratically. I didn’t get to kiss her tonight at midnight to ring in the New Year, but I plan on kissing her all night long to make up for that. I missed her like crazy down in Texas, and even though my mom worked me like a dog, Sabrina wasn’t far from my mind.

I fixed the railing on the porch, helped Mom repot some of the perennials she was keeping in the garage, changed five light bulbs and the batteries on all the smoke detectors, cleaned out her furnace, and ran errands from the moment I got up until the moment I lay down. I’d also met with Mr. #1 Realtor and made all the right noises, but as hard as I tried to envision Sabrina in Patterson, the image never came into focus.

“Hey, handsome,” she greets me. “I didn’t know you were coming here. I thought I was meeting up with you tomorrow.”

“Couldn’t wait,” I say truthfully. “Happy New Year, darlin’.”

“Happy New Year, Tuck.”

I gather her up against me and bury my face in her exposed neck. Shequivers in response to the light caress, and the half-hard cock in my pants rises to full mast.

Reluctantly, I set her aside. “We better get going or all my good intentions are going into the shitter.”

“I thought your good intentions were to fuck me into tomorrow,” she teases, referencing one of the texts I managed to shoot off to her in between the chores my mom thought up.

I nearly tackle Sabrina to the ground, but despite her light words, I can see exhaustion in every line of her gorgeous face.

Instead, I nod toward the others trudging toward their cars. “Why give these folks a free show?”

“Good point.” She twirls the key ring around her finger. “Slight problem. My stepfather is home and I don’t know if we want a repeat of that last scene.”

I can’t imagine why. The fucking perverted bastard needs a fist in his face and a boot up his ass, but I don’t want to bring him into the equation. I’ve got a whole series of events planned out and they don’t include spending a second on that dickhole.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your stepdad,” I admit, “but I figured since it’s the holidays and I didn’t get you a present, that we’d do something different. Why don’t you get in?”

She swings her keys around again and then tosses them over to me. “You drive. I’m tired.”

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