Page 18

Priscilla

I honestly thought my parents were taking us to a fancy restaurant when they came to pick us up, but we end up in the biggest and most sparsely furnished house I’ve ever seen. This place is cold and soulless and yet somehow like a museum. I try to figure out which friend of theirs this house might belong to but keep coming up empty handed. I’m not sure what’s happening, I want to call Rage to tell him I’m worried, but my father took my phone. I hope he sees the note I left him explaining things. It’s the best I could do at damage limitation. This morning that was my biggest worry, but now I’m afraid of something worse.

“These are your rooms,” my mother says as she shows us upstairs.

“Our rooms?”

“You didn’t think your father and I were going to let you stay with that dirty biker. You’re back home with us now, though we’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

Something about this house freaks me out, so I insist upon Mia sharing a room with me. I think she’s picking up on the strange vibe because she comes willingly and without a fuss. It’s hard to see my outgoing daughter cowed by her surroundings. My mother shuts the door and leaves us alone. On the journey here I’d repeatedly asked her and my father why they’d told me Rage was dead, but all they would say was that they were protecting me.

I put my arm around my daughter, and we sit in silence.

Finally, she glances over her shoulder at me, “Do you think Rage will forget us?”

I pull her closer, “Rage is never going to forget us. He remembered me after eleven years and God knows he’d never forget his own daughter.”

She glances away, mumbling, “I was just checking, if he’s not my real daddy then he might not care.”

“He’d care, that’s the type of man he is,” I say.

She just hugs her toy cat tighter.

“You miss him already, don’t you? I know I do.”

She nods. “Grandma called him a dirtbag during the car ride here.” Gesturing with one hand she adds, “Wherever here is. Where are we? Is this their house?”

I reach out and draw her into my arms. “I don’t know sweetheart. I thought they lived on the other side of the country. I’m going to keep you safe whatever happens.”

The next thing I know, she’s crying softly on my chest. There is nothing in the world I hate more than my daughter suffering. I’d walk over hot coals to keep her from hurting. Unfortunately, there is very little I can do under the circumstances.

***

I don’t know how long we both lay on the bed before we heard a knock on the door. My mother opens the door and sticks her head into our room. I can tell she’s dressed up like she’s going to an elegant party. “Time to get ready for dinner. We dress for dinner here. You’ve got an hour, so let’s get to it, shall we?” Her singsong voice is a little grating, and I want to shout and scream at her to let me leave.

I just want to go home. Home… yes that’s what Rage’s house has become. I want to have that talk with him and hope that we can move forward. I want that more than anything, I wish I knew what my parents were up to, in the past I’d done everything they asked without question. But no longer. I wasn’t their plaything, and I was going to demand that my father gives me back my cellphone. I’d call Rage and get him to pick us up. He was a good man, even if he couldn’t forgive me, I knew him and his club brothers would help.

My mother is not to be trifled with, especially if we’re staying with one of her friends so I suppose that means we have to sit at the table and play nicely.

I get off the bed and take a look in the closet, there’s a sense of foreboding when I see the clothes there. There are a number of smart dresses, the kind of work dress women used to wear in the eighties. Beside are a few smaller dresses with puff sleeves clearly meant for Mia and absolutely not what she would choose to wear. The clothes are in our sizes and at this moment I realize that whoever wants us here planned it all along.

I fuss around with our hair and clothing and head downstairs with Mia in tow looking like a damn Stepford wife and her child. I come to a staggering stop in the doorway because sat at the dining room table with my parents are the Whitmores, Malcolm and his son, Ashton, who is looking all kinds of pleased with himself.

My heart is racing, coming face-to-face with my attacker. Conrad wouldn’t allow him in the house, so I’d not seen him in over ten years. But instantly I was back in that alleyway.

“What’s he doing here?” I demand. My voice worlds more confident than I feel.

My mother clears her throat, and I realize she thinks I’m being rude. I take Mia’s hand and lead her to the table, murmuring, “Mr. Whitmore, it’s nice to see you again.”

“I truly wish I could say the same, Priscilla. Unfortunately, you are forever a pain in my side.”

“Father, you promised,” Ashton says with a note of warning in his voice.

His father freezes in place as the servers move around the table dishing out our food. I gesture at Mia to spread her napkin on her lap. She does so without hesitation. We wait for Malcolm to start eating and then join in eating our own food.

My mother starts talking about the Caribbean. At some point in the conversation, I realize my parents are living there instead of on the East Coast. I have no idea when that change happened. I remain silent because I have a feeling that my mother truly does not comprehend how abusive these people have been to me over the years. It’s hard to get her to understand because she discounts everything I say. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a bad feeling. My eyes glance to the door, but what could I do if I ran? I don’t know where I am, and with Ashton here, running would do no good—if anything he’d enjoy it. I had to trust that with my parents and his father here, that nothing bad would happen to me.

Mia doesn’t quite know what to make of the situation. She just keeps her head down, alternating between eating and taking sips of her water. She has the right idea, I follow suit refusing the wine. I want to be clear headed.

Finally, my father speaks up. “Enough small talk.”

Malcolm mutters under his breath, “Thank God for small favors.”

My mother closes her mouth but the expression on her face speaks volumes about how much she doesn’t like being shushed.

My father leans forward so he sees me when he speaks, “Priscilla, now that Conrad is no longer able to provide for you, your mother and I have been forced to make alternative arrangements for you and Mia.”

I respond smoothly, “I can get a job and support us. Women do it all the time, I’ve got somewhere to stay and now I’ve recovered I can look for work.”

My father clears his throat, “You won’t be working because you don’t have any work-related skills or experience that might position you to support yourself and your daughter, and you don’t have anywhere to stay because you are not going back to that biker.”

“I believe that’s for me to decide, not you.”

“Priscilla don’t talk to your father that way. We only want what’s best for you.”

“Like telling me the father of my child is dead?”

There’s a hiss from Ashton at that, and I see my parents and Malcolm Whitmore exchange a glance. At that moment I know I’m right. Rage really is Mia’s father and somehow my parents knew she wasn’t my attacker’s.

I glare at my mother, “What exactly did you have in mind, why did you bring me here? What’s going on? I want to go back home.” I truly can’t fathom what they’re all up to, but I can tell they’ve cooked up some plan. Whatever it is, I’m sure that I’m not going to like it. The thought pops into my head that they’re going to have me work as a live-in domestic worker or something like that. What my father says next floors me.

“We’ve made arrangements with Malcolm for you marry Ashton.”

I snatch up my napkin and throw it down on my half-eaten plate, eyes wide with horror and indignation, “Absolutely not! You can’t keep marrying me off to whoever you see fit. Arranged marriages are not a thing in the US.”

My mother perks up. “It’s our duty to help you find a good husband who can take care of you and little Mia.”

I glance down the table to see Mia is just sitting there, no longer eating. Her head is down, and her eyes look almost closed, like she’s just waiting for this horrible conversation to be over.

I glare at Ashton who has been silent through all this, there’s a strange expression on his face that chills me to the bone. “I’m not marrying him.”

My mother says, “Priscilla, you’re being rude.”

I look my mother in the eye and tell it to her straight. “You can’t make me do this, this is the twenty-first century, and we are living in the US. You want me to marry my—” I abruptly stop, realizing Mia is listening to my every word. She doesn’t know what happened, doesn’t know that for years I thought she was a product of that attack. I’d kept her safe from that knowledge, I’d told myself that my daughter was all me and none of him. Turns out she was none of him anyway. I decide to speak in terms these rich assholes understand, “My husband died very recently. The time of mourning is supposed to be a year. I can’t possibly get married while I’m still officially in mourning.”

My mother’s mouth opens and closes, as if her mind is grasping for an appropriate way to reject that idea but nothing is coming easily to mind.

My father isn’t so easily dissuaded from this idea. “Now Priscilla, we understand that this is a bit abrupt. But you have to know that you can’t continue staying with an outlaw biker. That’s no place to raise an impressionable young child.”

Mia is suddenly all ears and mouth. “He’s my daddy. My daddy isn’t an outlaw biker. He’s a motorcycle enthusiast, that’s all.”

Malcolm slams his fist down on the table. “He’s a criminal. I should know because he broke into several properties I own.” Glaring at Mia, he says, “Children are to be seen and not heard. From now on you will refrain for interfering when the adults speak.”

“My daughter has a right to speak and you have no right to speak to her like that. If you have a problem with Mia, you bring it to me directly from now on, she’s nothing to do with your family.”

A look of white-hot rage jumps onto his face. Before he can go off on us, Ashton intercedes. “I don’t know why you’re fighting this so hard, Priscilla. You can do much worse than me for a husband. You should be grateful that I’m willing to take you and your daughter in after the way you’ve treated me over the years.”

“The way I’ve treated you?” I say incredulously.

“Yes, I could have given you so much. You have always been mine, you and Mia.”

I look at my parents and to Malcolm to see what their response is. My mother is busy eating like she hasn’t a care in the world while my father looks annoyed. Malcolm just looks like he always did, totally disinterested. No one at the table seems to realize what an absolutely insane thing they are suggesting. “Why would you even want to take on the responsibility of a wife and child? You’ve always been a bit of a lone wolf.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth a look crosses Ashton’s face and is gone so fast, I think at first that I imagined it, but it’s one that almost makes my heart freeze over. If I ever wondered what pure evil looks like then I have my answer, I’m sitting across the dinner table from it. I have to get out of here, I have to get me and Mia safe from these people.

Ashton’s face is blank as he says, “My brother ended up with something he didn’t deserve when he married you. You were supposed to be mine.”

“I don’t want this.”

Ashton leans forward.” You will do as you’re told. Becoming my wife will be the best thing that ever happened to you. Wait and see.”

The finality in his tone scares me. Looking from one angry face to another around the dinner table drives home the fact that I’m not easily getting out of this one. These people are not going to stop until I have Ashton’s ring on my finger. Something about that chills me to the bone.