They’re going to feel this for a long time.
CHAPTER 45
On our way home from church, I gasp at the sight of a liquor store. “Oh my gosh, I have the worst craving for a margarita right now! Could we stop and get some mix?”
“On a Wednesday night?”
“Is that too naughty?” I ask.
“I like you naughty.” He pulls a quick U-turn and drives me back to the liquor store; then he lets me go in by myself. I grab tequila and margarita mix. Beer isn’t going to cut it tonight. I need him drunk as a skunk.
He holds my hand for the rest of the drive, smiling because he can’t wait to get me drunk and nasty. I know the feeling.
As soon as we get to his house, I mix up a pitcher of mild margaritas. When I pour his glass, I add extra tequila. Then a little more.
His eyes widen when he sips it. “Too strong?” I ask before taking a sip of mine. I close my eyes and hum with pleasure. “Mmmm. So good.”
Steven laughs. “Not too strong for me, babe. Drink up.”
He can’t say his drink has too much tequila, because that would make him weaker than a woman. God, I hate this idiot. “Want to watch a little of the hockey game?” I ask.
He drops to the couch and switches it on. I hover for a moment, and as I expect, he drains the margarita quickly. He’s used to downing beer after beer. He can’t pace himself with hard liquor. I pluck the empty from his hand and rush to refill it.
“Thanks, babe,” he says, eyes on the screen when I deliver a second drink. “You’re the best.”
“No, you’re the best, sweetie.” I snuggle close and watch the game with him. When I finish my first margarita, I offer to get him his third. I fill the glass about three-quarters of the way up and top it off with an inch of extra tequila. My glass is mostly ice.
“Want some chips, honey?” I call out. I find some tortilla chips and salsa and my man is so content. The salt and spice make him thirsty. I keep his glass full.
Within forty-five minutes he is red-faced and yelling at the TV as he finishes his fifth margarita. During the next commercial break, I mute the TV and turn to him.
“Steven . . . that wasn’t true what you said about Rhonda, was it?”
“Huh?” The shift of topic is too sudden, and he grimaces with irritation as his gaze slides unsteadily toward me.
“You didn’t really have an affair with her, did you?”
His eyes go comically wide. “What?”
My God, he was so drunk, he doesn’t remember. “You told me about it, Steven. At the cabin.”
He shakes his head hard, but the movement is too much for him in this state and he tips back, collapsing into the cushions.
I gently touch his hand. “Steven?”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“We need to talk about it. You had an affair with your own stepmom.”
His mouth contorts with rage. “No. Don’t call her that. She was, like, twenty-five years old. She was no one to me.”
“But, Steven, she’s your dad’s—”
“Shut up. She’s nothing more than a whore. That’s all.”
“I don’t get it. What happened? Did you seduce her or something?”
“Me? You think I seduced her?”
“I don’t know! I don’t understand how this could have happened. She’s your father’s wife!”
I’ve brought the pitcher into the living room, and he refills his own drink now, spilling some on the coffee table. His hands shake. “She wasn’t much of a damn wife,” he mutters.
“So she . . . she seduced you?”
He snorts. “She was desperate.”
“Desperate for what?”
“I’d just graduated from college and I moved in with them for a few months. I was living there, and . . . I don’t know. I did a little snooping around. I didn’t know much about her and I didn’t trust her.”
“What were you snooping for?”
“Whatever. Just anything. I figured she was a grasping little bitch. And she was. I found pills hidden under some clothes in the bottom drawer of her armoire. Birth control pills.”
“So?”
“So they’d been married for almost two years, and she hadn’t gotten pregnant yet, and they were seeing a fertility doctor.”
“Oh.”
“My father was torn up about it. He was upset that he couldn’t get his young wife pregnant and he thought he was letting her down. The doctor said it was his fault. Low sperm count and all that. And she was taking birth control the whole time.” Spittle flies from his mouth at this outrage. “I confronted her. Threw the pills in her face, and she begged me not to tell him.”
“Did you tell him?”
He laughs. He’s relaxing into the story now. He’s proud of himself for taking advantage of this bitch. “No. She said she’d do anything to keep it quiet. Absolutely anything. So I told her to try her best. She got on her knees right there in my dad’s bedroom and sucked me off.”
“Steven! Oh my God! You . . . How could you do that? With your dad’s wife?”
“I’m a man, Jane. I can’t say no to that.”
Holy cow, he is so warped.
“For the rest of the summer, she basically did anything I wanted. He’d been smart enough to make her sign a prenup. She would’ve walked away with nothing.”
“So you betrayed your father with her over and over again?”
The smirk falls from his face. “I love my dad. Don’t try to twist this around. She was already betraying him. She was already a terrible, lying, screwed-up wife. Just like my mom. All women are the same. You’re all whores. My dad knows that too.”
“I’m not a whore.”
“Are you kidding? When I close my eyes, I can’t tell the difference between you and Rhonda.”
I should gasp and act offended and maybe cry a little. I don’t bother. He’s too drunk to notice the difference. “Did you love her?” I ask.
“Jesus, of course I didn’t love her. I can’t stand her. I just used what she was offering.”
Yeah, he’d used her. But what he doesn’t realize is she used him too. She’d conned her way into a prosperous marriage and Steven had found out, but Rhonda had come up with the perfect way to silence him. He couldn’t expose her without breaking his father’s heart. She’d tied him up in her secret and he could never escape it.
Maybe she’s like me.
Or maybe not. Maybe she’s just like everyone else in this world. She’d used Robert Hepsworth for money, and he’d used her for her young body and pretty face. She’d used Steven to ensure her continued prosperity, and he’d used her for sex and humiliation. So far they’d each come out pretty even. Now the tide was about to change, and they would all be swept out with it.
His eyes are bleary, the lids heavy, but he reaches for me. “Come ’ere.”
Oh, great, he wants to pretend I’m Rhonda again.
“I’m not in the mood,” I say.
“Come on. You wanted to know the truth and I told you. Don’t act pissed now.”
Strangely I’m not as excited about him calling me a whore as he is.
“Come on, babe,” he whines.
“No, this is serious, Steven. Your dad is a wonderful man.”
“I know he is,” Steven says softly. “He’s the best. He’s the best.” He makes a strange noise, and I realize he’s starting to cry. Good Lord. “I love my dad,” he says before breaking into sobs. “I love my dad!”
I’ve got no patience for this. “I know you do, sweetheart. Come on. Let’s go to bed.” I switch off the TV and tug him to his feet.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he slurs. A tear drips down his face and a trickle of snot leaks from his nose.
“I know. Get to bed. I’ll be right there. I just need to tidy up the kitchen first.”
He nods and stumbles toward the hallway.
I take the dishes to the kitchen, wipe down the coffee table, and call for a car. Then I do the dishes. I’m in the middle of writing Steven a note when his first snores echo down the hallway.
Dear Steven, I drank way too much and I’m afraid I’ll be sick in the morning, so I took a car home. See you at work, sweetie. Love you bunches.
When I deliver it to his room, he’s lying facedown on the mattress, his jeans around his ankles. I drop the note on top of his bare ass and blow him a kiss.
I can’t waste any more time here tonight. I’ve got a recording to edit.