Page 71 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

I scoff, and Sally turns toward the noise, her dull brown hair swishing behind her.

“Oh! Hi, Rebecca Jean. It’s nice to see you. Your daddy didn’t tell me you would be here.” Her cheeks dust a light pink, and I want to smack the color off her stupid face.

My teeth grind together, jaw aching from the force. Crossing my arms, I turn my head to the side. She’s not worth my attention.

Homewrecker.

Sally clears her throat, shifting on her feet and twisting back to Papa.

“Okay, Don, I’ll um… see you later.”

He nods, already moving around his desk to sit down, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he does.

Sally closes the door behind her. Papa lets the silence linger just long enough to make it uncomfortable. It’s a power play, and one that he’s perfected over the years, at least when it comes to me.

“Rebecca. There’s no need to be so rude.”

I shrug.

He steeples his fingers, resting his elbows on the desk. “What do you need?”

I twist a curl around my finger, ignoring the way my stomach revolts at what I’m about to say. “Lee’s brother’s gettin’ hitched and wants to use the church.” I rush through the words like they’re on fire. If my dry, swollen throat is any indication, they singed me anyway.

Papa’s eyebrow quirks. “He’s not out in Florida?”

I sigh. “I don’t know, Papa. I guess his fiancée wants to have it here.” My voice breaks on the word ‘fiancée’ and I cough, hoping he doesn’t notice. “I’m just the messenger.”

He leans back, the desk chair creaking like it may collapse any second from his weight.

A metaphor for my fucking life.

Rubbing his chin, his eyes laser in on me. I’m not sure why, after all these years, he’s still able to make me finicky, but he does, and I can’t help but shift under his stare.

My hands grow clammy and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Anyway, they want to come check it all out on Tuesday, if that works.”

He nods. “Well, make sure you’re here for it then.”

My heart stops. Actually stops in my chest, and it’s a miracle I’m still breathing through the stall.

“What?” I gasp.

“They’re your friends, so you can be the one in charge of makin’ sure it goes off without a hitch. You need somethin’ to do this summer, anyway.”

My heart jolts to life, making up for the missed beats with the way it’s thumping away in my chest. I think I may pass out. Or have a heart attack. Maybe both. I did not sign up for this.

“Papa, in case you forgot. I have a job. I work hard and I think I deserve to enjoy my summer break.”

He chuckles. A short, sarcastic laugh that heats the blood in my veins, resentment spiraling through me.

“Idle hands are a devil’s playground, Rebecca. This will keep you busy.”

The universe is laughing at me. Proving what a cruel bitch it can be, because only a sadistic world would make me pay for my mistakes in such a brutal way. But no matter how bad I want to argue and rage, I don’t. I don’t remind him that I’m twenty-six and not sixteen. I don’t tell him all of the things I really want to say. I spent most of my adolescence fighting against this man, and I’ve learned it’s just wasted energy. My life has been prophesied. Written on the coattails of my mother, no matter how much I try to run from it.

I’ve accepted my fate.

For the rest of the night, all through my dinner date, I convince myself it won’t be a big deal. It’s been five years since I’ve even seen Elliot Carson, and if he can move on, then so can I. Maybe we can even be friends.

But still, when John sinks inside me, it’s blue eyes and dark, honey-blond hair I see.

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