Underestimated (Underestimated, #1)

“Gotta go, duty calls,” she joked.

I sat on the deck and stared off into the moonlit ocean. I dumped my warm beer over the side railing and heated a nice cup of Starlight’s relaxing tea instead. I wrapped myself up in my fuzzy blanket and listened to the waves as they collided with the boulders below. This along with my tea was just what I needed to unwind. It didn’t last long when my mind reflected on Lauren’s comment about getting married when I was eighteen.

I was exactly eighteen. Drew was there to claim me on my eighteenth birthday. I thought about the weeks before my birthday, and how much the anticipation burned my soul. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing that night as I lay in my thin walled bedroom and listened to the nice looking man who offered my father twenty five thousand dollars to marry me.

I didn’t even know who he was. I had seen him once. He had come to our worn out school and did a seminar after donating five thousand dollars. I remembered sitting right in front of him and listening to him talk about success and getting out of our situations and how valuable our educations were for our future. I admired him.

I shook my head at how infatuated I was with him that day. He was so cute and dressed like nothing I had ever seen before. He had actually inspired me. I no longer wanted to stay in that poverty stricken town. I wanted out.

I wanted to wear fancy clothes like he wore, and drive expensive cars.

He sat beside me on the bottom bleacher once the gym had cleared out. I was in no hurry to go home and often hung around school to keep from it.

“You’re a very pretty girl,” he said, and my faced turned the darkest shade of red possible.

“Thanks,” I said with my head down. How could he say that I was pretty? I was wearing Good Will clothes, and my sneakers were lace-less. My hair was too long and straggly looking, and I didn’t own any makeup. Not that my dad would have ever let me wear it anyway. He didn’t want me to be a whore like my mom.

I should have run that day. I should have started walking and never looked back.

“You should look at me when I am talking to you,”

he said, and I looked up. I had to. I was already afraid of him, and I didn’t even know his name.

“I’m Drew,” he said.

“I’m Morgan,” I replied and looked down and then right back up.

He laughed, and I didn’t think I had ever seen such perfect teeth in my life.

“I am going to marry you, Morgan,” he said. I remember choking on my own saliva.

I got up and walked out of the gym, listening to him laugh as I did.

Why would he say that? Why would someone like him want to marry someone like me?

I went to bed that night thinking about Drew, and living the life of luxury. I fell asleep dreaming of the perfect life with the man with the perfect teeth. That dream soon turned into a nightmare when I swore I heard him in my house talking to my father. It was late, very late, and the thin walls did nothing to conceal the private conversation.

I could tell by my dad’s slurring words that he was drunk. I lay on the mattress on my floor, trying to stop my racing heart.

“So you’re telling me that you want to marry my daughter, and you’re willing to pay me twenty five thousand dollars to do so?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I wasn’t property. He couldn’t sell me. I knew he was going to punch him in the face and tell him to get the hell out of his house.

“That’s right, Mr. Willow, but there is one condition that is nonnegotiable.”

“What?” my father asked.

“She has to be pure. If she’s not, I don’t want her.”

“You mean a virgin?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean.”

“Well I can guarantee that she is, or she better damn well be anyway, but I didn’t say she was for sale.”

“And what are you going to do with her when she turns eighteen? You know that you are going to lose her welfare and food stamps.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t for sale either, did I?”

What? This couldn’t be happening. You don’t sell people. This wasn’t some third world country. This was America. Things like that don’t happen here.

“Watch you want a girl like her for anyway? I betcha you could have any girl you wanted.”

“Oh I could, but, it’s time for me to settle down.”

“And no other girls will marry you?”

“Oh I have plenty of women that would love to marry me. I am not interested in spoiled little rich girls. I want a pure girl that can be trained to be the kind of wife that I want.”

Trained? What the hell does that mean?

“Fifty thousand,” my dad spat out.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Willow,” he stood to leave, and I was praying that my dad let him.

“Thirty thousand,” he retorted, and I couldn’t believe what was going on.

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