Damaged In-Law (10 page)

We sit side-by-side, looking out at the gorgeous view of New
York City. Suddenly, it
’
s like we
’
re
sixteen again—just two kids chomping at the bit to start the next exciting
phase of their lives. Only this time, we have the chance to do it together, as
a team. All I have to do is accept his proposition.

“Do you like being an actor, Jack?” I ask, keeping my eyes
trained on the skyline.

“I love being an actor,” he tells me. “It
’
s
all I
’
ve ever wanted.”

“Yeah...But does it make you
happy
?” I press.

He pauses for a moment, considering. “
I don’
t
know if it makes me happy,” he says, “But before I started acting, before I had
started on this path, all I had in my life were a bunch of things that made me
unhappy. My mother, who couldn
’
t bother to be a mom. My
dad, who ignored me unless he was drunk. And then...Never mind. What I mean is,
this new life of mine is the best I
’
ve ever had. So far,
at least.”

“I didn
’
t realize things were so shitty
for you, too...” I murmur, “I thought me and Avery
’
s folks
had the Most Terrible Parent title all sewn up.”

“Oh, they totally did,”
Jack chuckles,
“But
mine were definitely solid runners-up.”

“Y
’
know what?” I murmur, leaning
against Jack
’
s sturdy side. “I, uh...don
’
t
think I should be driving tonight.”

“No shit,” Jack laughs, slinging an arm around my shoulder.

“Could I maybe just...like...sleep on your couch or
something?” I ask, “
I don’
t know if you
’
ve
noticed, but this
’
s a
really
nice couch.”

“No. That
’
s not gonna happen.” Jack
says lightly, bursting my bubble into a thousand little pieces.

“...No?” I blink up at him, taken aback.

“I just mean, that won
’
t be necessary,”
he goes on, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I took the liberty of getting you
the room next door for the night. Well, actually, the studio
’
s
footing the bill. I figured that, once you accepted my proposition, we could
start getting you up to speed on the movie right away...”

“Jack...” I say slowly, sitting up to look him in the eye,
“You just went ahead and assumed that I was gonna accept your offer...to put my
entire life on hold, move into a hotel room, and shoot a movie without a
script, or talk of a salary, or finding someone to water my house plants?”

“Yeah. Pretty much,” he grins back at me.

“You, sir...are incor-gib-able. In...
Incorrigible
,” I
manage to say.

“And you are
wasted
,” he laughs, helping me to my
feet. “Come on. Let
’
s get you to bed. You can keep
berating me for giving you the opportunity of a lifetime in the morning.”

Chapter Eight

Eight Years Earlier

The Benson Home

From what I
’
ve seen on TV, cast parties
for high school plays are supposed to be happy, sweaty, impromptu affairs. The
cast and crew members should show up covered in smudged makeup, holding
unwieldy bouquets of roses. Pizza and soda should abound as everyone celebrates
a job well done. At least a few people should end up getting
way
too
into a game of seven minutes in heaven. Happy tears should flow freely, along
with the showtune sing-alongs.

But of course, that just wouldn
’
t do for
our
town.

As the female lead
’
s mother, Sylvia
offers to throw the closing night party for our high school
’
s
production of
Romeo and Juliet
. On the one hand, this gives me ample
time to make as many Lady Capulet jokes as I want. But on the other, it also
means that our cast and crew party ends up as just another Benson Family
soiree, complete with salmon puffs, Perrier, and a bunch of my parents
’
stuffy friends (most of whom didn
’
t even
see the damn show).

Most of the kids involved in the production only show up at
the party for a hot second tonight, after the curtain comes down on the final
performance. They
’
re all headed off to celebrate together
while Avery and I are stuck at our parents
’
house,
mingling with their friends. At least Jack is stuck here, too. His own parents
are in attendance, watching him like a hawk to make sure he doesn
’
t
embarrass them by bailing too soon.

Jack and I stand at the edge of the great room, trying not
to look as bored as we feel. Before us, a sea of middle-aged guests chatter on
in their usual droll manner. A couple of them talk about how lovely the play
was (“but what a sad ending!”). It really was a great performance, in my opinion.
Jack was amazing as Romeo, bringing a fiery sense of determination to the role.
Avery was stunningly beautiful at Juliet, even if the language was a little bit
too heavy for her to handle at times. She was pretty great, for a first-timer,
and Jack made sure to really take care of her during their scenes. But what
else is new?

“
Psst
,” Jack hisses in my ear, sending a thrill down
my spine as he leans in toward me. “Go into the coat room,” he whispers
conspiratorially. “There
’
s a flask in my jacket. These
sparkling ciders could use a little kick, don
’
t you
think?”

I try not to grin at him like an idiot as he draws me into
his plan. I
’
ve missed this mischievous scheming of ours.
Our dynamic has never been the same since the night of my sweet sixteen. Maybe Avery
is right—maybe that was my window of opportunity. The question is, is that
window still open, even a crack? The way Jack is smiling at me tonight, I
’
d almost dare say that there
’
s hope.

“Who knew Romeo was such a lush?” I grin back, snatching
Jack
’
s cup and acting casual as I walk through the crowded
room, making for his stash of booze. I glance back at him as I walk away, and
catch him staring as I make my exit. What can I say? These curves of mine may
be petite, but they still do the trick.

None of the adult guests seem to notice me as I move among
them, but that makes sense. I
’
m sure most of them don
’
t even know what the occasion for this party really is. In an
hour or so, Avery and I will make a break for it with our getaway driver, Jack,
and find the real party. But in the meantime, a little nip from Jack
’
s flask should make this thing a lot more tolerable.

The chatter of conversation dies out behind me as I make my
way toward the coat room. The guests’ belongings have been stashed at the far
end of the ground floor, far away from the party. For some reason, the door to
the little cubby is closed. As I reach for the handle, I hear a muffled sound
from within. I freeze with my hand clutching the knob, straining to hear
through the door. Two voices are arguing heatedly in hushed tones, and I feel
my blood go cold as I recognize the two voices.

“
Let me go,
” Avery insists tearfully,
“Get your hands off me, or I
’
ll tell my father that—”

“We both know who Howard will believe in a game of ‘he said,
she said
’
,” replies the smug voice of Daryl Hellman from
within. “Besides, you
’
re eighteen now. What
’
s
the problem? Don
’
t you like your uncle Daryl anymore?”

“The problem is the same as when I was eight years old,”
Avery spits back, “I think you
’
re a disgusting piece of
shit—”

Her voice trails off in a pained yelp, and I hear the sound
of a struggle from behind the door. In a panic, I try the door knob, only to
find it locked. Adrenaline spikes through my system as I realize the direness
of the situation. I can
’
t even count how many times this
happened when we were little kids, when I was powerless to stop it. But I
’
m not a powerless little girl anymore. I raise my fists and
pound on the thick wooden door, screaming through the barrier.

“Avery! Avery, it
’
s me!
Open up!
” I shout.

I hear my sister fumble desperately for the lock and wrench
the door wipe open. I rush inside and come face-to-face with Avery. Her chest
heaves with barely-contained sobs, and black mascara stains her cheeks with
dark rivulets. One strap of her dress hangs off her shoulder, nearly ripped
clean off. And standing behind Avery, glowering at me over her shoulder, is
none other than Daryl Hellman.

A dozen memories of moments just like this come roaring back
to me. Stumbling in on the wake of this man
’
s abuse,
always aware of what had happened but never able to prove a thing. Daryl
Hellman has been my father
’
s business partner for ten
years now, since Avery and I were eight years old. And for ten years, he
’
s made Avery
’
s life a living hell. He
’
s been careful never to get caught with her outright. He
’
s made a habit of cornering her when no one is around to see,
so that it has always been her word against his. This isn
’
t
the first time I
’
ve walked in on the aftermath of his
abuse, but it
will
be the last.

“It
’
s OK,” I whisper, taking Avery in
my arms, “I
’
m here, now. He can
’
t
hurt you.”

“Come, now. No one was hurting anyone, here,” Daryl mutters,
taking a step toward us.

“Stop right there,” I command, placing myself between him
and Avery.

“Calista, sweetie. You
’
re
overreacting,” Daryl goes on, a false smile spreading across his tanned face.

“Like hell I am,” I spit, turning to Avery. “Go and find our
parents,”
I tell her,
“I
’
ll be there
in a minute, OK?”

Avery nods tearfully and takes off down the hallway, back
toward the tinkling conversation of the party. With a belly full of rage, I
turn on my heel and march up to Daryl Hellman. His face is flushed with booze
and lust, and I wish I could smack that smarmy grin off his face. He reeks of alcohol,
and must be half a dozen drinks in.

“And here I thought she was safe from you, now that she
’
s not a child,” I snarl, glaring up into his ruddy face. “I bet
you think you
’
re really fucking smart, having gotten away
with this for so long. But guess what? You
’
re done. This
is the last time you
’
ll be within a hundred feet of her,
you prick.”

Daryl laughs, running his eyes down the length of my body.
“Why, are you here to take her place? Suits me just fine. You
’
re
not quite as pretty, but you
’
ll do in a pinch.”

Before I can utter a word, his thick arms have circled
around my waist like a vice. I gasp as he swings me around, slamming me up
against the wall of the coat room. My head cracks against the hardwood, and
starbursts erupt across my field of vision.

Daryl keeps me pinned there, my fists smashing against any
bit of his burly form I can reach. His beefy hands rove down my body, cupping
my breasts and ass as his pungent breath suffocates me. I try to scream, but
his forearm jams up against my windpipe, rendering me voiceless. In a blind
panic, I cock back my fist and slam it hard against the side of his face. Even
this only startles him for a second or so. And when he focuses his eyes on me
once more, his lust has been coupled with outrage.

“You little bitch,” he growls drunkenly, choking me with
that one meaty forearm as he reaches his searching hand up my dress.

My entire body rallies against his disgusting advances.
Instinctively, I bring my knee up sharply between his legs. The sudden strike
finally throws him off. He staggers away from me, tumbling into a rack of
coats. I sink back against the wall, my chest heaving with terrified, furious
sobs. Though he
’
s been victimizing Avery for the last ten
years, Daryl has never touched me before tonight. No one has
ever
laid
his hands on me like that. Even in this moment, I know that the lesson I
’
ve learned tonight will stay with me for the rest of my life.
It
’
s that knowledge that brings my foot crashing down on
the bridge of Hellman
’
s foot, though he
’
s
already been felled. Serves him the hell right.

Thundering footsteps echo through the cavernous house as
someone sprints toward the coat room. My dad must have finally listened to
Avery, seen how upset she was. Surely, he
’
s finally coming
to give Hellman the throttling he
’
s always deserved. I
scramble out into the hallway, putting as much distance between myself and the
crumpled form of Daryl as I can. Just as I round the corner, stumbling on my
high heels, two strong, stable hands catch me before I fall. I blink up through
startled tears and find two familiar eyes blazing down at me. But it isn
’
t my father
’
s face that hovers before me
now.

“Oh my god, Jack...” I gasp, my knees giving out beneath me.
The shock of what
’
s just happened is starting to take hold
of my body.

“Callie, are you OK?” he asks fiercely, holding me up in his
solid embrace.

“He didn
’
t...I got him...” I breathe,
unable to wrangle my thoughts into full sentences. “It
’
s
Avery who... Where—?”

“I
’
m here Callie,” I hear my sister
’
s soft voice say from down the hall.

I swing my gaze her way. She
’
s
paralyzed in the middle of the foyer, afraid to come any closer to Daryl
’
s prostrate form. It
’
s been a long time
since I
’
ve seen her look so vulnerable. Gathering my
strength, I rip myself away from the safety of Jack
’
s
embrace and go to her. We wrap our arms around each other, holding one another
up even as we
’
re held.

A wail of pain rings out from down the hall, and our
attention snaps back to the coat room. We watch as Jack pins Daryl Hellman to the
hardwood floor, cocks back his arm, and cracks his fist against the older man
’
s jaw. The second he saw for sure that Avery and I were out of
harm
’
s way, Jack descended on our attacker. He moves with
pure fury, in a rage like nothing I
’
ve ever seen from him,
or anyone.

And I
’
m not about to stop him, either.

“What the hell is going on here?” roars a furious voice from
the down the hall.

Avery and I spin around where we stand rooted in the center of
the foyer. Five stormy, lined faces appear before us, advancing to staunch the
unfolding disturbance before it causes a scene. My father Howard leads the
charge with Jack
’
s dad, Richard, on his heels. They brush
past Avery and I without so much as a passing glance. Bringing up the rear are
my mother Sylvia, Jack
’
s mom Anita, and—much to my horror
and dismay—Daryl Hellman
’
s wife, Beth.

The older women descend on us, forming a protective pen as
the men go charging toward the coat room. Richard Cole, a silver-haired
advertising executive and the bane of Jack
’
s existence,
rips his son away from the fight, not without a great deal of effort. I feel my
heart stop in its tracks and my father stands over his business partner. But
instead of throttling the man for what he
’
s done, or
coming to his daughters
’
defense at all, he offers his
hand to Daryl Hellman, helping him up off the floor.