Hello, Darkness (5 page)

“You moved and spoiled the lighting,” he chided gently.

“Lighting, my ass, I’m
leaving.
”

Her cheerleading days had paid off. She came off the bed with surprising strength and agility. But she didn’t get far. He caught her by the hair and yanked her back, then shoved her down onto the bed.

“You can’t keep me here,” she’d cried.

“You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?”

“Ruin what?”

“Us.”

“There isn’t any ‘us,’ you sick wacko.”

“You had to cheat on me. Just like the others. Didn’t you think I’d find out? I listen to Paris Gibson, too, you know. She put your call on the air. Thousands of people heard you telling her that you felt smothered by my possessiveness. You were going to take her advice and dump me, weren’t you?”

“Oh, Jesus.”

He’d stood over her, both fists clenched at his sides as though he were forcibly suppressing his rage. “You can’t treat people like toilet paper and get away with it, you know.”

And because he had become so freaking scary, she had wisely shut up.

He had taken a few more photos, then decided that her feet also needed to be tied. She had fought him as if her life depended on it, but he’d eventually slapped her so hard her ears rang. That was the last thing she heard.

When she came to, she was spread-eagled, her hands and feet tied to the bed frame beneath the box springs, her mouth taped shut. The apartment was empty. He was gone. She was alone, and no one knew where she was.

Over the passing hours, she had devised a dozen means of escape, but dismissed the ideas almost as soon as she conceived them. None was workable. She was helpless to do anything but wait for him to come back for more of his sick sex games.

Jesus,
she thought,
what have I gotten myself into?

“I hope you’ve enjoyed this evening of classic love songs. Please join me again tomorrow night. I’ll be looking forward to it. Until then, this is Paris Gibson on FM 101.3. Good night.”

Great. Now she didn’t even haveParis to keep her company.

Chapter Five

G
avin Malloy was awfully drunk. The pleasant buzz from the cheap tequila wasn’t quite so pleasant any longer. It was too hot to be drinking tequila shots. He should have stuck to beer. But he had needed something strong and nasty to drown his depression.

The hell of it was, he was still depressed.

The evening had been spoiled for him early on. His drinking had accomplished nothing except to make him light-headed, sweaty, and nauseous. Blearily he looked toward a clump of scraggly cedar trees and wondered if he could cover the distance over the rocky ground before he puked. Probably not.

Besides, he’d seen a couple disappear behind the trees a while ago. If they were still doing what they’d gone there to do, they wouldn’t appreciate him hurling on them. Talk about coitus interruptus.

He chuckled at the thought.

“What’re you laughing at?” his new friend asked, nudging him in the gut, which caused the tequila to slosh. The guy’s name was Craig something. If he’d ever heard his last name, he’d forgotten it. Craig drove a Dodge Ram pickup, the biggest one made. Jet black. Fully loaded. It was one badass truck.

Gavin, Craig, and several others had been hanging out in the bed of the pickup for hours, waiting for something to happen. A group of girls had come by earlier, drunk some of their tequila, showed them just enough skin to get them excited, then wandered away with promises to return. So far they hadn’t.

“What’s funny?” Craig asked again.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“’Bout what?”

What had he been thinking? He couldn’t remember. Must not’ve been very important. “My old man,” he said around a belch. Yeah, his old man had been in the back of his mind all night, bothering him like an itch he couldn’t reach.

“What about him?”

“He’s gonna shit ’cause I went out tonight. He grounded me.”

“That sucks.”

“You got grounded?” another guy jeered. “What are you, twelve?”

Gavin didn’t know his name, only that he was an asshole with bad skin and worse breath who thought he was a lot cooler than he was.

Gavin had moved toAustin fromHouston a week after the spring semester ended. Finding a new crowd during summer break hadn’t been easy, but he had joined this group, who accepted him once they learned he was a guy who liked to party as much as they did.

“Awww, Gavin’s scared of his daddy,” the jerk taunted.

“I’m not scared of him. I just dread having my ass chewed again.”

“Save yourself the hassle.” This from the optimist who’d showed them earlier his inventory of condoms. “Wait till he goes to bed before you sneak out.”

“I tried that already. He’s a freaking bat. He’s got like built-in radar or something.”

This conversation was making the lousy evening lousier. Nothing could cheer him up tonight, not more tequila, not even the return of the girls, and chances were excellent that they weren’t going to come back as promised. Why would they waste their time on losers like this bunch, like him?

He stood up, swaying dangerously. “I’d better split. If I’m lucky, he won’t be home yet. He’s with his girlfriend.”

He waded through the others, then jumped off the tailgate. But he miscalculated the distance to the ground as well as the weakness in his knees and wound up facedown in the dirt.

His new buddies howled. Weak with laughter himself, he struggled to get upright. His T-shirt was so wet with sweat that when he tried to dust himself off, he left streaks of mud across the front of it.

“Tomorrow night,” he told his friends as he staggered away. Where had he left his car?

“Don’t forget tomorrow is your turn to bring the booze,” Craig called.

“I’m broke.”

“Steal it from your old man.”

“I can’t. He checks the bottles.”

“Jesus, is he a cop in his spare time?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Gavin mumbled as he turned in the general direction of where he’d parked.

“What if Miss Hotpants comes looking for you?” It was the asshole, calling to him in a singsong voice. His grin was ugly and goading. “What should we tell her? That you had to go home to your daddy?”

“Get fucked.”

The obnoxious kid hooted. “Well, it’s for sure you won’t. Not tonight anyway.”

One of the others muttered, “Shut up, dickhead.”

“Yeah, give it a rest,” the condom guy said.

“What? Wha’d I do?”

Craig spoke softly. “She dumped him.”

“She did? When?”

Gavin moved out of earshot, which was just as well. He didn’t want to hear any more.

He located his car. It wasn’t that difficult to spot among all the others because it was a piece of shit. No badass pickup or sports car for him. Oh, no, nothing like that for Gavin Malloy. And you could forget a motorcycle. That wasn’t going to happen as long as his old man was in charge, and probably not as long as he was drawing breath.

His car was a snore. It was a sensible, good-mileage means of transportation that would spoil the racy image of a Mormon soccer mom. And he was expected to be grateful for it.

He’d gotten a lecture when he expressed his low opinion of it. “A car isn’t a toy, Gavin. Or a status symbol. This is a reliable first car. When you’ve proved that you’re responsible enough to take care of it and use it safely, I’ll consider an upgrade. Until then…” Blah-blah-blah.

The thing was an embarrassment. When the fall semester started at his new school, he would probably be laughed off campus for driving this heap. The dorkiest of the dorks wouldn’t want to be seen with him.

In his present condition, he had no business driving anything and was just sober enough to realize it. He concentrated hard on keeping the center stripe in focus. But that only seemed to increase his dizziness.

He was still several blocks from home when he was forced to pull over, get out, and vomit. He spewed a torrent of tequila on some poor sucker’s flower bed that formed a neat circle of color around the mailbox. Someone would have a disgusting surprise when they came out to get the mail tomorrow. To say nothing of the mailman.

Coordination shot, he climbed back into his car and drove the remainder of the way to the new house his dad had bought for them. It wasn’t bad. In fact, Gavin kinda liked it. Especially the pool. But he didn’t want his dad to know he liked it.

He was relieved to see that his old man’s car wasn’t in the driveway. But Gavin wouldn’t put it past him to have laid a trap, so he slipped into the house through the back door and paused to listen. His dad would love to catch him sneaking in so he could ground him for longer, take away his cell phone, his computer, his car, and make his life even more miserable than it was.

That was his parents’ main mission in life—to make
him
miserable.

Satisfied that the house was empty, he went to his room. His old man must still be with Liz. Screwing like rabbits, no doubt. They never did it here in his dad’s bed. Did they think he was stupid, that he didn’t know they were having sex when they spent the evening at her place?

It was easy to imagine Liz in bed. She had a hot body. But his old man? Rutting? No way. Gavin couldn’t imagine anything more gross.

In his bedroom he turned on his computer even before he switched on the desk lamp. He couldn’t fathom life without a computer. How had people survived before them? If his dad really wanted to punish him, that’s the privilege he would revoke.

He checked for email. There was one from his mom, which he deleted without reading. Anything she had to say was salve for her conscience and he didn’t want to hear it.

You’ll come to realize that this is best for all of us.

You and your future are our main concerns, Gavin.

Once you have adjusted to the change…

Sure, Mom. Whatever you say, Mom. Bullshit, Mom.

He sat down at the desk and began composing an email letter. But not to his mother. His anger with her was mild compared to the animosity he felt for the recipient of this letter. Not that he planned on sending it. And because he didn’t, he poured out all the anger that had been roiling inside him for days.

“What makes you think you’re so hot anyway?” he wrote.

“I’ve seen better. I’ve
had
better.”

“Gavin?”

When the overhead light flashed on, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He quickly exited his email before his old man could read what was on his screen. He pivoted in his chair, hoping he didn’t look guilty. “What?”

“I’m home.”

“So?”

“You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not a kid.”

“Did you eat some dinner?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, smacking his lips. “Microwaved leftover pizza.”

“You were invited to join Liz and me. You chose not to.”

“Bet that broke your heart.”

In the even, unruffled voice Gavin hated, his dad said, “If I hadn’t wanted you to come along, I wouldn’t have invited you.” He came into the room. Gavin thought,
Oh, great.
“What’ve you been doing all evening?”

“Nothing. Surfing the net.”

“What’s that on your shirt?”

Perfect. He’d forgotten about the filth on his T-shirt. Dirt. Probably vomit, too. Ignoring the question, he turned back to face the computer. “I’m busy.”

His dad took him by the shoulder and turned him around. “You went out. Your car isn’t in the same place it was when I left and the hood is warm.”

Gavin laughed. “You’re checking the temperature of my car’s engine? You need to get a life.”

“And you need to get with the program.” His father said this in a raised voice, which was rare. “You stink of vomit and you’re drunk. Driving drunk, you could’ve killed somebody.”

“Well, I didn’t. So relax and leave me alone.”

Dean stuck out his hand, palm up. “Give me your car keys.”

Gavin glared at him. “If you think taking my keys will keep me cooped up in here, you’re wrong.”

Dean said nothing, just kept his hand extended. Gavin fished the keys from the pocket of his jeans and dropped them into his father’s palm. “I hate the damn car anyway, so no big loss.”

His dad pocketed the keys but didn’t leave. He sat down on the edge of the unmade bed. “Now what?” Gavin groaned. “One of your famous lectures on how I’m pissing my life away?”

“Do you think I enjoy punishing you, Gavin?”

“Yeah, I think you do. I think you get off on being the big, bad father, having me to boss around. You enjoy telling me everything I’m doing wrong.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why do you say that?”

“Because you’ve never done anything wrong in your whole goddamn life. Mr. Perfect, that’s you. It must be boring as shit to be so right all the time.”

He was surprised to see his dad smile. “I’m far from right all the time and nowhere near perfect. Ask your mother. She’ll tell you. But I know I’m right about one thing.”