Sugar Dust (5 page)

She sighed and slumped onto the bed to bury her face against the pillows.

Chapter Six

Back in the kitchen, Dan lowered his forehead to rest on the table. Behind, his mother buzzed like an oversized bee on speed. She washed mugs and wiped surfaces, while humming a slightly out of key
Peggy Sue.
She slammed four glass tumblers into the cupboard.

Dan cringed. “Mum?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course. Why?”

“You seem tense.”

“I’m fine.” She shoved another mug into the cupboard.

Dan gritted his teeth. “Bullshit.”

“Daniel!”

“Then talk to me. And stop cracking my dishes.”

Maxine paused. An expectant hush whispered through the room. Even Julian looked up, eyes wide beneath his bushy eyebrows.

“Really, darling, I’m just tired from the trip.”

Unclenching his fists, Dan made himself nod. He even managed a half smile. “What did you want to tell me?”

She gave him a blank look.

“You had something to tell me in the car. You said you’d tell me over dinner.”

“Did I?”

Yes! You did, you crazy woman. You made me stick another fork in my relationship just so you didn’t have to take a cab.
He blew a harsh breath through his nose and focused on the fact he loved her, despite how difficult she made it.

“Yes, and it had to be pretty important to bring you here from Ely on public transport.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I just wanted to visit my favorite boy.”

“Your
only
boy.”

Maxine flicked a dishcloth at his face in what she probably thought was a playful manner. “That’s right and you haven’t given me a proper hug yet.”

Dan slouched forward.

She yanked him into her and crushed his face against her perfumed throat. She smoothed back his hair and kissed his cheek. When she licked her thumb and aimed for his forehead, he jerked back.

“No way, I’m not a child.”

“You’ll always be my baby.”

“Leave the boy alone, Maxine,” said Julian. “And sit down, you’re making me dizzy.”

“But it’s so untidy.”

Dan escaped his mother’s octopus arms and leaned against the fridge. “You don’t have to do this, Mum.”

Rather than answering, Maxine put away a stack of plates, cleaned the top of the stove, and filled the kettle. “I wouldn’t have to if Caroline was doing her job.”

“
Karen,
Mum. Her name is Karen! And she doesn’t have to clean my house.”

“She should do her share, darling. You can’t keep her for nothing while she does this PhD or whatever it is.”

Dan rubbed his eyes. “I’m not doing this. Not now.”

“I’m just saying.” Maxine spread her hands and widened her eyes. “If she’s going to stay here, eat your food, use your utilities, and spend time alone with your male friends, the least she can do is clean up. I mean look at this; is that blood on the floor?”

“Mum,” he snapped, trying to head off the inevitable follow up question of where it came from.

“Fine.” She sat down, crossed her legs and placed her hands on her raised knee. “I bet Darla never gives her mother so much trouble.”

“Who?”

“Darla Shields. Your friend from school.”

Dan stretched his mind back. “The chubby kid who smeared mud in my hair?”

Maxine beamed. “I knew you’d remember. You were so close.”

“We were five. She put frog spawn down the back of my T-shirt.”

Darla Shields had also smeared mud over his lunch box, tried to cut his hair with safety scissors, and pushed him into the fish pond when nobody was looking. Just thinking her name conjured the memory of slimy fingers of algae wrapped about his face while filthy water filled his mouth.

The kettle boiled and a cloud of steam puffed out. Julian slid away to make more drinks.

Dan narrowed his eyes. “Why bring up Darla?”

“What?” She said with unconvincing innocence. She often used the same voice when discussing “his future.” A future that as far as she was concerned should include babies, marriage, and a better job.

“It’s been nearly thirty years since I last saw her. What does she have to do with anything?”

A dark glint flickered in Maxine’s eyes. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you bring her up—”

“Me?”

“She’s moving here soon. Darla’s mother, Vanessa told me. She’s been part of my quilting group for years. Anyway, Vanessa said Darla would be moving to this area next week, but she doesn’t know anybody. I told her you’d be happy to take her out.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, you can try the pub up the street. Maybe the movies. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely night.”

As if on cue, a thump from upstairs reminded him of Karen. He thought of her face, her smile as she gave every part of herself to him. Next to the memory of Darla’s triumphant sneer as he shivered beneath a lily pad, he needed little help to make up his mind.

“Are you serious?” he stammered. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Dad,” he begged, a desperate bid for aid from the man his mother might actually listen to. “Help me out here.”

Julian held out a fresh mug of tea. When no one took it, he helped himself to a sip and said nothing.

“I don’t understand what the problem is, darling.”

Dan surged to his feet. His chair clattered to the floor. “I have a girlfriend!”

“Karen?” A sneer tugged the corner of Maxine’s mouth. “You clearly don’t see a future with her, so why bother?”

“Now what are you talking about?”

“At this stage of your last relationship, you were living together. Do you remember Bethany?”

Dan reeled as though punched. He tried to sit then remembered his chair was on the floor. It took several tries to retrieve it with his fingers shaking so badly. When he finally managed to right the chair, he eased into it while staring at the floor. “I remember, clearly better than you.”

“Now there was a nice girl. Polite. Respectful. How could you let her get away?”

His fists clutched to form white nubs on the tabletop. “Mum, do you actually remember her?”

“Of course. She made beautiful dinners and kept your old place spotless...”

Yes, kept the apartment spotless, hacked into my email account, read my text messages, opened my mail...
Licking his lips didn’t help chase away the bitter taste in Dan’s mouth. He swallowed, but the uncomfortable itch at the back of his throat refused to leave. “We drifted apart.”

“Why? You were perfect for each other.”

“No, we weren’t.” Dan pounded his fist on the table. From the corner of his eye he saw Julian jump and slop tea over his hands.

“Son?”

“I’m fine, Dad. Sorry.”

“I understand.”

Dan sighed. Of all the things his father probably did understand, his relationship with Bethany wasn’t one of them.

“Poor thing,” Maxine cooed. “You still miss her, don’t you?”

Pete chose that moment to put his head around the door. He had red stains on his shirt and a plaster wrapped clumsily around one finger. He swept his gaze over the gathering. “Sorry, I’ll just go.”

“No, wait a second.” Dan waved him back. “I need to talk to you. Wait for me in the living room?”

Pete’s expression flattened. “Sure.”

Maxine watched him go. “What an odd man.”

“Mum.” Dan looked back at her. “Is that what this was about? To fix me up with a girl from kindergarten?”

She smoothed her skirt and hair though neither required it. “I came to help you, darling. As any mother would.”

“I don’t need help.” Dan’s pulse quickened as he finally understood what he needed do. Tugging his cell phone from his pocket, he punched a series of buttons.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling you a cab,” he muttered, taking time to savor the look of shock on his mother’s face. “You can wait outside.”

***

Da
n lowered himself to the sofa and buried his head in his hands. He dragged his fingers over his face until the skin pulled. Across from him, legs crossed at the ankle, Pete popped the lid off a bottle of Budweiser and passed it over. “Here, mate.”

Two large swallows later, Dan felt calmer. “What is it about parents?” he whispered. “Are they all insane?”

“Mine are.”

“Where’s Karen?”

Pete stared at his shoes.

His stomach knotted. “She’s still pissed off? How many more times can I apologize?”

“Women, right?”

“Right.” Dan took another swig. “I’m really sorry about this.”

A smile played around Pete’s lips. “Free boobs. It was brilliant.”

“It’s not. It’s a mess.”

“If you say so.”

“You don’t think it’s a steaming pile of shit? She’ll never talk to me again.”

“But if you can still put her in that cage what’s the problem?” He gulped his own drink and sat back. His smile widened, but something in his eyes didn’t match.

“Fuck you, Pete,” he snarled. The events of the day finally snipped through the last of his patience. “That’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course she is. What do you think is happening here?”

“I have no idea, but it looks like some rough, kinky shit.”

“You could call it that.”

Pete took a deep breath. He sat forward and directed his words at the floor between his feet. “Did you hurt her?”

Dan became very still. His breathing lowered, but the rush of his blood in his ears intensified. “Excuse me?”

“She had big red marks all over her arms, shoulders, and back. She said they’d fade.”

“They will.” His voice emerged far more defensive than he intended but Dan couldn’t help it. He glanced left and right, then at his friend. “They
will
fade.”

“So you
did
hit her?”

He flinched. The words struck him like a punch. He felt sick inside, shaky and hot. “I didn’t hurt her.”

“You hit
her. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. We were playing and—” He licked his lips.

He doesn’t believe me. Why doesn’t he believe me? I wouldn’t—I would never.
His grip tightened around his bottle. Sweat slipped down his jaw and into the collar of his shirt. “I didn’t hurt her, Pete.”

“That’s what she said, but that’s what women say when they’re scared.” His gaze intensified.

“She’s not scared.” He bit off each word, grinding his teeth so hard the tension sprawled across his skull as a full–blown headache. “Christ, you think I’m actually hurting her? Beating her up?”

“You are.”

“I’m not!” His shout filled the room and bounced off the walls. He heard the echo, but it was in his head, a thunderous loop over and over in the cavern of his mind.
I wouldn’t hurt her. Not Karen. Never—not after—I wouldn’t hurt her. Not for real.

“You hit her.”

“In scene,” he insisted desperately. “It’s part of the fun—the game.”

“Beating Karen is a game to you?”

Dan jumped to his feet. In that moment he visualized punching his friend. Grinding his fist into that steady, accusing expression to wipe it away. “You’re twisting my words,” he said.

“You’re telling me that you beat your girlfriend. What’s to twist? I sat here thinking about it while you talked to your folks. The more I thought about it, the more scared I got. Twice I nearly called the police, but I wanted to let you explain yourself first. You’re my friend, Dan, but this is fucked up.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t assume you understand what’s going on. I wouldn’t hurt her. Not for real. I’m not that person.”

His words tumbled over each other in his desperation to get them out. Panic threatened to take over but he held it at bay. Just. If only he could make Pete understand.

“What else should I assume? You phone me saying ‘get over quick and help Karen.’” When Pete looked up something fierce burned in his narrowed grey eyes. “I tear over here like a fucking getaway driver and find Karen in a cage with a bunch of weird torture tools.”

“They’re not torture tools.”

“Yeah? Because those marks looked nasty.”

“I didn’t break the skin. I never do.”

“You’ve done that before?” Pete’s mouth dropped open. He stood. “I’m taking her out of here. Now. Tonight. Don’t try to stop me.”

“What’s wrong with you? Listen to yourself. You know me. We’ve been friends for years. You
know
me. I’m not that guy.”

As Pete marched towards the sitting room door, Dan ran to block his path. “Just wait and listen.” He begged his friend. “Please, you owe me that much.”

“I don’t owe you anything except a good slap with that bottle.”

Not once breaking eye contact, Dan bent to rest his Budweiser on the floor. He straightened slowly, with his arms held out palm up. Everything trembled, from his knees to his elbows, but those tremors were nothing compared to the cold seeping into his bones. It chilled him from the inside out until he could barely speak. But he had to. There was no choice left.

“I know you watch fetish porn,” Dan whispered. “The harder stuff. Don’t bother denying it, I’ve seen your computer. I know you understand when I say we were in the middle of a scene. Dominant and submissive. BDSM.”

“None of the stuff I watch has marks like that.”

“Your stuff is tame. But it’s all there. Log into any fetish site you like. Watch the interviews. Watch the sick bastards like me cracking whips over their screaming women. Watch them get off on the tears.” He looked away, suddenly sickened by his own wants and needs.

Pete’s jaw dropped. He took a step back. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” The fury leeched from his eyes and left behind a faint echo, overlain with confusion. “BDSM?”

Dan risked lowering his arms but he still didn’t look at Pete. “Now you know. Karen’s my girlfriend, but she’s my submissive too. She’s my slave.”

Pete paled. “You have a sex slave? Did you buy her over from Saint Lucia or something? What the hell does that even mean? People go to prison for that shit.”

“Pete! For fuck’s sake, listen to me. Karen’s my girlfriend. She’s just like any other girlfriend, but there’s another layer, a master/slave element that we add in the bedroom. And sometimes outside the bedroom too.”