Page 24 of Mine

“Eventually.”

“Will you just get on with it and stop torturing me like this.” She looks back over her shoulder at Lena and Max before turning to face me again “I can’t go anywhere. I’m stuck in this room waiting for you to tell me what I can and can’t do. I know I chose to come with you. I understand what I’ve gotten into. This is the rest of my life. I just wish you’d fuck me and get it over and done with. At least I can start playing the role of prostitute then.”

I shake my head still angry at the way she views herself. She doesn’t know anything. I’m just as trapped in this as she is. I don’t even want to get married, but I have no choice. Love is just a fairy tale. It’s not real. Marriage is a business transaction. That’s all this will ever be. But we might as well have a bit of fun while we can.

“You know nothing, Shelby Jones. There’s so much you need to learn. I’ll never treat you like a prostitute, but I’ve got as much say in this arrangement as you have.” I look past Shelby. “Max, Lena, get dressed. We’re going out.”

“Where are we gonna go?” Shelby asks as I grab her hand and pull her out of the room.

Keeping a tight grip of her hand, we make our way through the house. I’m walking so fast Shelby needs to run to stay with me, and when we get to the front door, I slam her back up against it.

“Where are we going?” I laugh, and it sounds completely evil, even to my ears. “We are going to face the truth together. I’m going to show you just who your father really was.”

13

SHELBY

I’ve read that animals’ moods can’t fluctuate enough for them to be called bipolar. They need chemical stimulation for that to happen. Eaton Armstrong isn’t a dog, however, and I’m beginning to think he’s got mental issues. One minute, we’re watching his friends have oral sex. The next, I’m dragged into a car, and he’s driving like a maniac toward some destination unknown. He’s madder than a wet hen.

“Slow down,” I yell.

He just growls at me, so I shut my eyes, hoping to God he doesn’t crash the car. I can’t even think about trying to catch a glimpse of my surroundings. I’m petrified. My hands wrap around the edge of the seat, and I pray.

The car screeches around a corner, and we finally come to a stop with a jolt. I open my eyes, hoping we haven’t hit something or someone. Thankfully, I think we’ve reached our destination. Although when I look around at all the gravestones in front of us, I realize this is not going to be a joyful experience.

“Out of the car,” Eaton snarls.

Self-preservation kicks in, and I quickly scramble from the vehicle. I read the name of the cemetery on the sign at the entrance.

“M-My father is buried here,” I stammer.

“Unfortunately,” Eaton grumps. “But it’s not him we’re here to see. As soon as I can get his grave removed and dumped with the scum of the earth somewhere else, I will.”

I’m shocked to hear the way he speaks about my father. The hatred is pulsating from him. I’m not stupid. I know my father wasn’t always a good man. But to witness someone exhibiting such revulsion toward him is shocking. My feet plant themselves firmly on the ground as Eaton grabs my hand tightly and tries to pull me into the cemetery.

“No,” I mumble, scared.

“Yes. I’ll drag you kicking and screaming if I must.”

“Tell me here,” I beg.

“No, you have to see it for yourself.”

I shake my head.

“Please,” I beg.

I’m frozen to the spot with fear of what I’m about to learn. The tales I’ve told myself over the years, not knowing anything about my father, are going to be revealed as childish imaginings. I know it. The daddy and daughter trips we went on together. The laughter he elicited from me with his silly jokes and impressions. Us, all together, as a happy family with my mother sober and smiling. The fact he died a hero saving lots of people. I know in reality none of it’s true, but in my heart it is. I can’t bear to have my cherished stories revealed as fake.

“Move, Shelby. Last chance.”

I allow Eaton to pull me behind him. He stomps in front of me at such a rapid pace I’m running to keep up. How do men manage such big strides? I’m wearing sneakers, but I’m barely able to stay on my feet.

We make our way through the cemetery. It’s well maintained. All the graves are neat and tidy. Some are small, and others are elaborate in style. The deeper we go into the cemetery, the individual graves make way for family mausoleums; a sign of the wealth in Vegas. I wonder where my father is buried. I’ve never seen his grave, but I’m not about to ask Eaton.

The largest mausoleum looms in front of us, and I know without a shadow of doubt that it’s the one we’re heading to. Eaton pulls me into the building and throws me onto the floor. My knees whack hard against the cold marble beneath them. I dare to look around, and my eyes are immediately drawn to a pair of ornate statues of peace and serenity, decorated in gold leaf. Eaton walks forward to a large tomb in the center of the room. He bends down and places a kiss on the lid.

“Hi, Mom. I’ve brought someone to meet you.”

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