Very Bad Things (20 page)

ACCEPTANCE SETTLED OVER me, wrapping
around me like a warm blanket as I drove aimlessly around Dallas, not noticing
or caring where my headlights led me. Tonight I’d stood up for myself; I’d
confronted her with the truth. And in doing so, I’d released some of the
darkness I’d carried around for so long. Oh, I wasn’t suddenly magically happy.
I wasn’t going to bust out singing “Kumbaya.”

But something had altered within my sprit tonight.

I didn’t need a list. I didn’t need to be bad.

I needed to just be Nora.

I turned my car into Club Vita’s parking lot and sat there,
looking up at the window that I knew was Leo’s room. He’d crushed the deepest
part of me tonight by choosing Tiffani. How long would they be together? Would
he dump her soon or eventually fall in love and commit to her? Whatever
happened, I didn’t want to be the sad girl who waited in the wings for Leo’s
relationships to combust.

I wanted to find my own happy moments.

I glanced up when I saw the first rays of the sunrise
peeking over the horizon. It was a new beginning, the dawn of a new day, and I
wanted to live it.

BY SEVEN THAT morning, Aunt Portia
had pulled up at the bakery, so I moved my car over to her side of the street.
When I walked in, she saw my face and wrapped me in her apron and hugged me
hard. I let her hold me, inhaling the comforting scent of baked goods that
lingered in the shop. She made me sit while she grabbed cinnamon rolls and two
cups of hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream. We settled in at a table
near the window. I told her about my fight with Mother; I told her about Finn.

She cried and told me she loved me.

Since her apartment was an hour from BA, we’d made a
tentative plan for me to sleep in the attic space above the shop. She had an
extra twin bed I could use, and the employee’s bathroom would be my bathroom.
There wasn’t a shower, but when Mila dropped by for lunch that day, she said I
could come to her house after school for showers.

And so the weekend passed slowly. I spent most of Sunday in
my bed in the attic and on Monday, I went to school as if nothing had changed.

After school, Sebastian came in the shop with my shoes and
my dress, which was covered in a local dry-cleaner’s plastic. He said Leo had
had it dry-cleaned.

I got us coffees and two bear claws, watching in amusement
as he devoured his and then the rest of mine. I told him about having a fight
with my mom and leaving home to live at the shop. I didn’t say a word about
Finn.

“Will it be hard not living in the lap of luxury anymore?”
he asked.

“Luxury means nothing when you aren’t safe.”

“Whenever you want to talk about it, I’m here,” he said,
eyeing me thoughtfully.

“Don’t get all serious on me. It’s like you’re Leo when you
do it. I need my flirty Sebastian back.”

“Okay, how about this: you can shower at the gym anytime,
sweet thing,” he said with a comical leer.

“And there he is!”

He laughed and gave my hand a squeeze.

Since it was after lunch, I was surprised to hear the door
bell go off, signaling someone had come into the shop, so I looked over to see
who it was.

It was my dad. He was talking on his phone, dressed for the
courthouse in an expensive, well-cut gray suit. He was tall and handsome in an
older, successful way with brown hair that still didn’t have any gray. He ended
his call, checked the time on his Rolex and strode toward us, his green eyes
checking me over.

My mouth had come open, and Sebastian turned to look at
where I was staring. “Who’s that?”

“My dad,” I said weakly, closing my mouth. “I’m just
surprised to see him. The last time was at the
incident
.”

Dad stopped at our table and put his hand out for Sebastian,
“Hello, young man. I’m Robert Blakely, Nora’s dad,” he said, showing his
flawless manners and breeding.

Sebastian stood tall, put his hand out, and they shook.
“Sebastian Tate,” he said and then warned him with, “I’m a good friend to
Nora.”

If my dad detected the grimness of Sebastian’s tone, it
didn’t register on his face. He just nodded at him and turned to me, “Nora, may
we speak alone, please?”

I nodded, and Sebastian reluctantly got up and moved a few
tables away.

I offered him a coffee but he refused. He sat down across
from me. “How many meetings did you have to cancel to come here?”

He sighed. “Never mind that. I’m here because your mother
told me about your disagreement.”

I snorted at the word
disagreement
. “Did she tell you
she hit me?”

“She did not,” he said emphatically.

“It’s not the first time, you know.” I picked at my
fingernails. “She called me a whore. I bet she left that part out, too.”

He tilted his head in confusion.

“What exactly did she tell you?” I asked.

“She said you came in late, high on cocaine and dressed
inappropriately. She said you refused to give up your keys and walked out.” He
fiddled with his cuff links nervously, and I wondered if he really believed
Mother’s version.

“And it’s taken you three days to come find me? I could be
dead on some street corner from a coke overdose for all you knew.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “I called Portia, and she
told me you were here, Nora. We thought you might need some time to cool down
before you came back home, that’s all. I wouldn’t abandon you.”

I laughed out loud. “No, you did that a long time ago.” He
opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, “She didn’t tell you
everything.”

His mouth thinned in disapproval, and I faltered,
remembering how much I’ve always wanted to please him. “Then tell me what
happened, Nora,” he said curtly, leaning back in his seat.

I sat on my shaking hands and leaned my head down until my
hair covered my face. I wanted to vomit, but I fought it. He needed to know
what had really happened, because I suspected now he never had. “When I was
fourteen, Finn raped me. I don’t know how many nights he came into my room when
no one was home. The last time . . . the last time he got me high on cocaine
and let his friend . . .” I stopped and swallowed, fighting the hated tears,
but they came anyway.

“They took pictures. And it didn’t look like rape in the
pictures. It looked gross and terrible, like I wanted it,” I choked out, wiping
my face with my hands.

“Maybe he posed me, maybe he didn’t. I don’t remember,” I
whispered. “I loved him, but never like that. He said it was my fault because
it’s always the girl’s fault. He said no one would believe me,” I croaked. “I
finally got the courage to tell Mother and she said that . . .”
I paused and bit my lip.

“What? What did she say?” he asked, holding his breath. My
gut told me he knew what was coming. He’d lived with her for years; he knew the
strict rules she lived by. Even he lived by them.

“She told me I was making it up, that Finn only loved me as
a brother should. She called me a liar.”

My dad shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus.”

“I thought she’d told you.”

“No, never.”

“I was only a kid, and I didn’t know what to do. I should
have told you myself, but I wasn’t old enough to make the right choices.”

“How did you stop him?” he asked, his voice strangled with
emotion.

“I told him I would kill him, and I meant it,” I said
savagely. “After I saw the pictures, something snapped in me. I stole all the
knives from the kitchen and placed them around the room, in the corners, in my
nightstand, under my pillow. I stabbed him on his arm when he tried again. I
stabbed him . . . blood was everywhere . . . he had to go to the emergency room.
He told you both it was a bar fight.”

I rubbed my temples, trying to erase the thick memories in
my head. “He messed up though when he gave the pictures to me because I could
see his face on some of them. I told him I’d show them to the police,” I said, dying
a little inside at the thought of actually showing them to someone.

Dad’s entire face had whitened at my words, and tears ran
down his face. I looked until I found the crescent-shaped scar on his cheek.
One birthday, my parents had gotten me a huge dollhouse, and he’d gotten that
scar when he’d been putting it together for me. I’d watched him work on it,
because I was eager to play with it, so I’d seen the drill when it bounced off
the dollhouse and flew back to nick him in the face. Most dads would have lost
their cool or cursed, or at least stopped for a minute to take a break, but not
Robert Blakely. He’d wiped the blood off his face with a tissue, and without a
word had gone right back to putting that dollhouse together. My whole life,
he’s been emotionless and reserved like that. But right now he looked
destroyed, like he’d aged ten years while sitting here.

I thought about the invisible scars I had, the ones that
would never really heal, and I continued, “In the beginning, I fought him as
hard as I could, but he was always bigger and stronger, and after I while I
felt
paralyzed
, like it wasn’t really happening to me. I just let him,”
I cried, bowing my head in shame, remembering how weak I’d been and how easily
I’d given in.

Maybe it had all been my fault. Maybe I was a whore like
Mother said.

He scooted his chair over to my side of the table and took
my hand. “Nora, I’m sorry.”

I sensed the guilt he was feeling, but it didn’t stop me
from saying, “Nothing will change what happened to me. You should have been
around more,” I said bitterly. “I’ve never been first with you or Mother.”

He nodded. “Your mother,” he began and stopped, looking
around the room, seeming to search for the right words. “I’m
not
excusing her for her part, but when I first met her, she’d dropped out of
college to have Finn, and she was all alone. Her family was very religious and
wanted no part of an illegitimate child. They’d disowned her. We fell in love,
got married, and told everyone Finn was mine. But she had control problems, and
getting her high-profile job as anchor, it’s made her worse.” He stared at our
hands. “I haven’t been the father you needed.”

“This is the most we’ve talked in months,” I reminded him.

He reached over and awkwardly hugged me, and I patted his
back, feeling like I was comforting him.

“Why do you stay with her?” I asked, pulling back.

He sighed. “What would people think if I left? There’s never
been a divorce in my family, and together we’re a strong force. People respect
the Blakely name.” He shrugged. “She’s on her way to the top in television, and
I do whatever I want. Why would I change it?”

Indeed.

I nodded, acknowledging in my head that we were a fucked-up
family. I wondered if he would confront either of them. He was as fixated on
society and reputation as Mother. My gut told me he was genuinely angry for me,
but that still didn’t mean he’d go to the police and drag our family name
through the mud. In the end, our prestige meant more than I did.

Later, as I watched him get into his Mercedes and drive
away, money was on my mind. He’d left me several hundred in cash, but he didn’t
say if he would again. I didn’t want
their
money anyway, but I did need
to help out Aunt Portia. She’d been the one feeding me, buying me clothes, and
paying my cell bill. Thankfully, the Volvo had been a gift from my now dead
grandparents on my sixteenth birthday, so it was mine. I didn’t want my
parents’ money, but I did want my thirty thousand in prize money and ten
thousand in scholarship money I’d collected when I’d won the spelling bee. I
needed every single cent to get through college. Yeah, I had a scholarship to
UT, but I’d still have living expenses. He’d said he’d consider making me the
primary on the account that holds all my money, but he’d have to run it by Mother.

It appeared my lifestyle might be changing. Poor girls
didn’t shop at Neiman Marcus, even on sale day. Poor girls didn’t live in big
chateauesque houses. Poor girls don’t go to college where you have to write an
essay to get in. And, poor girls don’t wait for someone to save them. They save
themselves.

I was okay with that.

I’d forgotten Sebastian was still in the shop. I found him
at a booth, suspiciously close to the one where my dad and I had been sitting.

My heart sank. “Oh, no,” I said, closing my eyes in
realization.

He strode over and hugged me, and I shuddered in relief.

He said, “Please don’t be mad at me, but when he walked in,
you looked so lost. I wanted to be close in case you needed me.”

I sighed. “You always seem to be picking up my pieces.”

He smiled and shrugged. “Dude, you’re my best friend, like a
sister.”

“When did I become so special?”

He tightened his arms around me. “As soon as I realized how
much Leo cared for you,” he said.