Degradation (27 page)

“Are you okay?” he asked in a gruff voice. She glanced over at him. He was staring straight ahead, trying to burn a hole in the wall with his glare.

“I'm fine. Are you?” she replied.

“
I'm not the one who got hit. Are you
okay?
” his voice was angry sounding.

“
It wasn't even that hard,
I'm fine,
” she insisted. He suddenly turned and grabbed her face, turning her left side towards him. She stumbled and pressed her hands against his waist.

“He hit you. I saw you go down. Don't tell me it wasn't hard,” Jameson growled at her, his eyes raking over her face.

“It wasn't, really, I promise. It doesn't even hurt,” she assured him.

“He's lucky he didn't leave a mark. God, I want to kill him,” he breathed against her, his grip on her jaw almost painful. She pushed at him.

“
You're
about to leave a mark. Calm down,” she tried to laugh.

“
I'm allowed to
. If any mother fucker ever touches you like that again ...,” his voice trailed off. She lifted her eyes to him.

He's really upset about this
.

“
Jameson,” she stated his name loudly. His eyes went to hers. “I'm okay. I'm a tough girl from the bad side of Boston, who also happens to be sleeping with a psychotic stock broker who has an amazing right hook. I'm not worried.”

He chuckled and finally let her go, but didn't take his eyes away from her.

“I didn't exactly think the weekend would go this way. I wanted to see you squirm. Make you uncomfortable,” he explained. She laughed.

“Mission accomplished, Mr. Kane.”

“Did your father ever hit you?” he asked. She shook her head.

“No. He was strict and he was mean, but he never hit anybody,” she answered.

“Is Ellie going to be okay?” Jameson continued. Tate shrugged.

“I'm beginning to think she never was; she's like obsessed with this thing between us,” Tate replied, gesturing between the two of them. “You should have heard her in the kitchen this morning. And then she told me he's been doing this to her since they got married. She thinks the baby will stop him.”

“
Jesus,
” Jameson mumbled, letting his head drop.

Ellie came back out right then, and they all headed home. Ellie went straight to her room, wouldn't talk to anyone. Tate walked Sanders to his guest house, and he stared at her for a long while at his door. He didn't say anything, so she squeezed his arm and then walked away. Jameson brooded in her father's office. Her mother drank, pretended everything was fine.

I'm not going to survive this weekend.

When she heard her father's car pulling up the drive, she went upstairs to change. She understood now why Jameson had bought her clothing for the weekend. Tate didn't own anything that was appropriate for her father, not anymore. After brushing her hair up in to a nice, neat ponytail, she pulled on another dress, one with a knee-length flared skirt. It wasn't until she was trying to work the zipper up in the back that she realized her hands were shaking. She was pacing around, trying to get the feeling back in her fingers, when Jameson walked in the room.

“Stop,” he murmured, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her around. He zipped up the dress and then turned her back around, smoothing his hands over the material.

“Do I pass code?” she joked. He rested his hands on her hips and stared down the length of his nose at her.

“More than I ever could have thought.”

The sentiment made her feel ill and she pushed past him, heading down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, her father was just walking out of the kitchen. They both stopped. Stared at each other. He was older, heavier. More grey in his hair. Tate knew she was different, had grown in to herself over the years. She wondered what he thought when he looked at her. What he had ever thought.

“Tatum. I didn't believe Kane, when he said he would bring you,” her father stated. Tate let out a breath.

“Here I am,” she said softly.

“You look well,” was all he said before brushing past her and going in to the study. Jameson came to stand next to her and she looked up at him.

“Is your game still funny?” she whispered. He shook his head.

“Not even a little,” he replied, lifting his hands and rubbing her shoulders. Ellie shuffled around the corner and Tate automatically backed away from him.

Because he's not mine.

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Her father asked where Robert was, and everyone looked at Ellie, who just laughed nervously. He asked Jameson how business was, asked his wife how her day had gone. Didn't say one word to Tatum. She drank.
Heavily
. Jameson took her glass away at one point, but she just started filling her water glass with wine.

Why can't rich people just be normal and drink whiskey!?

They “retired” to the drawing room. Jameson lit up a cigar, which she had never seen him do before; it got her hot. She'd had a lot of wine, and she imagined the different things he could do with a large Macanudo.

She wondered what was wrong with her.

Tate finally escaped to bed around nine o'clock. She hadn't said a word in over an hour, no one had spoken to her, so she figured no one would miss her. She went in to her room and peeled off all her clothing before climbing under the covers. Trying to hide her sniffles, she texted Ang.

What are you doing?

It took him a while to reply.

Three guesses.

She almost laughed.

Sex. Hang gliding. Battlestar Galactica marathon.

Got two of them right. What's up, chickadee?

I'm at home.

Thought you were locked away in the country! I'll kick this bitch to the curb and bring Battlestar to your house.

No. I'm at home. HOME home. Like where I was born. Pennsylvania.

Holy fuckballs.

She really did laugh at that one. He captured her feelings so well.

Still in shock myself.

Did Satan make you do it?

Who else? To say it hasn't gone well would be an understatement.

Bad?

Worse.

Details.

Mom is a pill popping alcoholic. Daddy still refuses to admit I exist. Ellie still thinks I'm the biggest slut in the world. Her husband is an abusive pervert. Got hit in the face. Got drunk.

There was another long pause.

If Satan hit you, I'm going to fucking kill him.

No. Ellie's husband.

Was Satan upset, or turned on?

He broke the dude's jaw.

Okay, even I'm a little turned on by that.

Tate burst out laughing and just then, her door started to creak open.

“You sound like a crazy person,” Jameson's voice was soft. He was outlined in a burst of light and then the door closed, leaving them in darkness.

“Probably because I am one,” she replied. She felt him sit on the edge of the bed and then his hand rested on her stomach.

“What were you laughing at?” he asked.

“Ang. We were texting each other,” she explained.

“
Ah, of course.
Angier
. Are you okay?”

“Do you really care?”

“Feisty.”

“No. Tired,” she ended in a sigh. His fingertips brushed across her forehead, brushing her hair out of the way.

“I'll leave you alone. One more day, baby girl, and then you win the whole thing,” Jameson whispered, and then got up. He walked out the door, closing it behind him without another word. Not even a backwards glance.

She stared after him. Her phone was clenched in her hand, resting against her chest. She could feel it vibrating with more incoming text messages from Ang. But she didn't read them. She stared at the door, willing Satan to come back.

I hate to be alone.

*

Another day, another dress. Jameson had only packed her one pair of pants, and she had worn them to the hospital – they were a wrinkled up mess in the corner of her room. So she slipped on a tweed dress. Possibly Chanel. She felt horrible. She wanted her own clothing, a pair of cut-offs and a loose t-shirt. Her knee socks. Anything else. She was careful with her hair and makeup, and then walked downstairs.

Jameson was already in the living room, talking to Sanders. They both turned at her entrance, but she only managed a smile for Sanders. She felt drained. Hollow. Her family sucked the life out of her. She hadn't realized it, but maybe that was why she had been such a robot in her past life. They had sucked her will to live. She had to get away. If Jameson didn't take them home that evening, she was going to hitchhike. Kidnap Sanders. Steal the car. Something.

“Alright?” Jameson asked with a curt nod of his head. She shrugged.

“As I'll ever be. Is it too early to start drinking?” she asked. He nodded.

“Yes.”

“Sandy, got any xanax?” she asked, meaning it to be a joke.

“In my luggage, ma'am,” Sanders responded. She was shocked for a second, and then she laughed.

“Better be careful, Sandy, or I'll fall in love with you,” she teased, heading in to the kitchen.

Apparently it wasn't too early for some people, as she caught her mother spiking her coffee with brandy. Ellie wandered in a couple minutes later, not making eye contact with anyone. Robert had come home late the night before, and though his jaw was wired shut, he'd had plenty to say. His mumbled rants could be heard all over the house. He had gone crying to Tate's father. She could just imagine what she was in for that day.

She didn't have to wait long.

“Tatum! My office, now, please,” her father's voice barked out. She took a deep breath and followed him in to the dark room.

“Yes?” she asked, standing in front of his desk.

“What are you doing with your life?” he demanded. She blinked a couple times.

“Working.”

“What do you do?”

“I'm a bartender, downtown.”

“Disgraceful.”

She started to get angry.

“Well, I had to do something, Daddy. No college degree, no money, no references. Pickings were slim. I'm very good at it, everyone knows that Tatum
O'Shea
is the best bartender in all of Boston,” she said in a sweet voice, sarcasm dripping from her words.

“Don't blame any of that on me. You did it to yourself. Shameless girl,” he grumbled.

“No. I was a
young
girl, stupid, confused, thoughtless; you never even asked me what happened. You just went by Ellie's word, like always,” Tate pointed out.

“So you didn't have an affair with him!?” he shouted. She almost backed away, but then she remembered – he wasn't a part of her life. He had no power over her.

“No, I didn't have an affair with him. It was just one night, just sex,” she replied bluntly.

“How dare you talk to me like that!”

“
You
asked.”

“You don't feel any regret, do you!?” her father demanded. “Not a single goddamn regret. You ruined Ellie's chance for a decent marriage, and you don't even care.”

“Is this over? I have things I could be doing,” Tate snapped back.

“Don't you take that tone of voice with me, young lady,” he warned her.

“I'll use whatever tone I fucking want,” she said back. He jumped up from his chair.

“I knew this was a bad idea. I told that man that no good could come of you, that he should just turn his back on you. You are a waste of time, Tatum. I don't know why I ever bothered with you,” he told her. She sucked in a gasp.

“The feeling is entirely mutual,” she replied, and before her father could respond, she swept from the room.

She was actually trembling as she stomped up the stairs. She stood in her room for a while, but she didn't want anything in there. Didn't care about her new clothing. She walked down to Ellie's room and didn't even bother to knock, just burst inside. Robert was laying on the bed and Ellie was standing next to him. Both gasped at her entrance.

“What are you doing!?” Ellie asked, startled by the brash entrance.

“I'm getting the fuck out of here. Come with me,” Tate said quickly. Robert sat up, shaking his head and mumbling something.

“Tate, I know you don't -,” Ellie started, but Tate shook her head.

“Last chance. Come with me,” she offered again.

There was silence, and then Ellie's eyes flicked to her husband. He shook his head again and Ellie sighed, turning back towards her sister. Tate nodded and walked out of the room. At least the going would be a lot quicker now. She breezed through the house, ignoring Jameson when he called out to her. She was halfway to the guest house when Sanders caught up to her.

“Can I help you with anything, Ms. O'Shea?” he asked quickly, jogging up to her side.