Page 1 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

1

Becca

My palms are sweating. It’s not because of the weather, although Florida in August is hot and humid as hell. It’s because I’m fixing to FaceTime my old man and let him know I’m not coming home after senior year. I’m not sure when I made the decision, although if pressed to think back, I’d guess it was sometime before getting accepted into Florida Coast University, and sometime after I walked in on him screwing the youth leader of our church on his big oak desk. But I digress. The point is that although my hometown, Sugarlake, Tennessee, will always hold a special place in my heart, it won’t hold me. Florida suits me just fine. I’ve fallen in love with the nonexistent winters and the palm trees. And maybe a little bit with the fact I’m not in a town where everyone knows me as Preacher Sanger’s daughter.

The apple that fell too far from the tree.

So, here I sit, on the front steps to my apartment complex. I’ve just finished moving in with my dorm mate of the past three years, Sabrina. After Papa found out I was spending more time going to dorm parties instead of classes, he decided to foot the bill for a place off campus. A place where I can “focus” and get my degree “as quickly as possible.” Probably so he can have a daughter with something to be proud of. Momma, on the other hand, is just hoping I’ll come home—back to the church that’s been strangling me my whole life, and into her clutches where she can mold me to perfection. Maybe if I give in, she’d stop with the incessant nagging over all the ways I make her look bad.

I drop the ends of my frizzy red hair when my phone screen lights up with Papa’s name for a FaceTime call. I may love Florida heat, but it does not love my curls. Wiping my clammy hands on my sun-kissed thighs, I swipe to answer.

“Hi, Papa.” The smile I plaster on my face strains the muscles in my cheeks.

“Rebecca. You get moved in alright?” His face is stern, and those jade green eyes, identical to mine, chill me with their icy gaze.

“You betcha. Sabrina got here before me and picked the better room, but I’m thankful for any extra space. It’s all a mansion compared to the dorms.”

“Good, good. I’ll let your momma know you made it safe. She can’t come to the phone, she’s makin’ roast for supper and we’re expectin’ company.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, Momma’s busy entertainin’ his guests.

“That’s alright.” My fingers twist my split ends. “But hey, Papa… before you go, there’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to tell ya.”

His eyebrow cocks, the only indication he’s listening.

My stomach pinches and I hesitate, wanting to hang up the phone instead of saying what needs to be said.

“Spit it out, Rebecca Jean, I’m a busy man.”

A nervous laugh bubbles up my throat, but I bite it down. “I’m gonna stay out here for a while after graduation. Sabrina’s stayin’, too, so it’s not like it will be a big change.”

He’s silent.

A part of me thrills at the thought of his blood pressure rising from what I’m saying. Serves him right, thinking he can control everything.

“I think it’ll be good for me, ya know? Plus, it’ll give you and Momma a place to visit when you’re wantin’ to go on vacation.”

Maybe appealing to how it could benefit him

will make him more amiable to the idea. I like to push his buttons, but at the end of the day, he’s the one that holds the reins to everything in my life, and I haven’t figured out how to cut the rope.

“The heat gone to your head and made you lose it, girl? I didn’t fork out four years of college in that sinful place just for you to spit in my face when it’s time to come home.”

My heart sinks.

“Your life is here in Sugarlake. With the church. With your family.”

Church. Even from thousands of miles away, it clamps its claws into every orifice and makes me feel like I’m suffocating from its presence.

I suck in a deep breath, pushing out the words on my exhale—afraid if I don’t say it now, I never will. “My life is where I make it, and I’m choosin’ to make it here.”

His jaw sets, even more rigid than it was when he first called. My chest twinges, aching for the naivete I had when I was a kid. Back when I thought Papa was the closest thing to God. To me, he walked on water. But he was the one who woke me up from that dream, even if he doesn’t know it. He showed me the nightmare of empty words preached from the pulpit and pulled the curtain on the illusion of love.

So he can hate my choices all he wants. I hate his choices, too.

“Rebecca Jean. I am not payin’ for you to start a new life. You already have one. You’re comin’ home and that’s final.”

“No. It’s not.” I try to make my voice sound firm, but I’m sure to him it comes across ungrateful. Like it always does.

“Then I guess you’re on your own.”

I jerk, my hair snagging on my ring. The root pulls, making me wince. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not plannin’ on comin’ home? Then I’m not payin’ your way.”

He doesn’t mean it. He already paid for my schooling, he can’t just take it back. Besides, he wants my name on a diploma more than I ever have. The only difference is, I’d like to actually do something with it, and he wants it hung on a wall to look pretty. Another trophy he can add to his case.

“Yeah, okay, old man. Whatever you say.” My eyeballs strain as I roll them.

“You think I’m jokin’? See how far that attitude gets you when you can’t pay your rent. Call me when you get some sense in that head.”

Click.

Papa’s a thief of joy.

His last words steal the satisfaction pissing him off usually brings. I hadn’t thought being cut off was truly a possibility, and now that it’s happened, I’m not sure how to feel. Part of me revels in the opportunity for freedom, which is the one thing I’ve craved for as long as I can remember. But then my mind races, thinking of everything he controls, both with his money and his iron fist.

Rent. Food. Basic living necessities.

My breaths start coming shorter as I scramble to think of a way out of this situation. I have no backup plan, but I can’t give in. Going back to Sugarlake is akin to the lowest levels of Hell. I refuse to live trapped under the will of a false deity and a man who thinks his word is law. I see how that life pans out every time I look in Momma’s eyes.

No fuckin’ thanks.

“So, what are you gonna do?” Sabrina runs her fingers through her pink-streaked brunette hair.

I shrug, throwing my half-eaten pizza back in the box. I know I should eat more, but my stomach rolls every time I think about how Papa cut me off.

I just filled her and my friend Jeremy in on the conversation with my old man. They’re as supportive as they can be, but they don’t know too much about Sugarlake. It’s nice not having people judge me for things I’ve done—and the family I have—so I like to keep my Florida life separate.

There’s only one time I let it bleed over and that’s when I talk to my soul-sister. My best friend, Alina May Carson, aka, Lee. I’ve known her since birth and we’ve been inseparable ever since. I would crawl across broken, burning glass for that girl. But even she isn’t enough to keep me there.

I’ve tried to convince her to move to Florida a million times. All she’s got in Sugarlake is a depressed Daddy and the memory of her brother—one who abandoned them before their momma hit six feet in her grave. But she’s stuck in her ways and I reckon she’ll stay in Sugarlake until she takes her last breath. Thoughts of the same thing happening to me tighten like a noose around my throat.

“I don’t know,” I say to Sabrina. “Get a job, I guess. Not that I have time with my courses this semester. But I’ll make it work.” I grimace, thinking about my class schedule.

“Why don’t you just find a job at FCU?” Jeremy pipes in.

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