“Yeah.”
He narrows his eyes. “It’s hard to get an address—how’d you get it?”
I slept with him, and it was the best night of my life. “I … Does it matter?”
He studies me further. There are not a lot of rules as far as how we get things, and mostly, Don doesn’t ask. “No,” he finally says.
“Good.”
I turn and walk out. I pass Vance, who calls out my name. I pass Julio, who glares at me. I don’t see them. I walk out of the building and get into my car. I drive numbly to my parents’ house, and when I arrive, I walk straight up the front steps into the home I grew up in. I need my dad. I just need him to tell me I’ve done the right thing. That this will get easier. That it’s part of the job. That the hurt I’m feeling isn’t real. That Raide is going to be okay and I did the best thing I could for him.
“Grace, what are you doing here?” my mom asks when I step inside.
She’s at the table with Gretchen and two friends of hers from the beauty pageant committee. I’d usually snort and throw some smart remark at them, but I don’t have the patience or the effort today. “Where’s Dad?”
“He’s out—he won’t be long.”
“Where have you been?” Gretchen frowns, running her eyes over me.
I know I look like shit. My makeup is probably running, my hair is a mess, and I’m barefoot because I couldn’t be bothered putting my heels on.
I shoot Gretchen a glare. “I’ve been working.”
“Only person I know who works in a short dress,” Gretchen smirks, and the ladies at the table all giggle.
Woman that giggle, I just decided, piss me off.
“Maybe I was getting some while I was at it,” I deadpan.
“Grace!” my mom cries. “Don’t be so crude. These ladies don’t need to hear such filth. I’m ashamed to call you my daughter sometimes.”
“Yeah, don’t I know it,” I bark.
“These ladies are important—you watch your mouth,” she warns.
“Is this your other daughter?” one of the ladies asks with disgust.
“Yes,” my mother mutters. “Sadly.”
It’s like a blow to the chest.
“I don’t even know how we came from the same place,” Gretchen mutters. “You are just so … plain.”
That’s it. I’m done. I lunge at Gretchen. I’m quick. I’m strong and I’ve had training. Because of this, I catch her hair and tug her head back so hard, she screams, and then I get in her face. “I might not be a beauty queen, I might not feel the need to wedge a giant stick up my ass like you, and I might not be as fucking perfect as you, Gretchen, but I am a goddamned person, and I am tired of your insults.”
“Let her go!” my mother shrieks.
Gretchen’s face is bright red and she’s squirming in her chair, screaming loudly.
I tug her head hard again, but a hard arm wraps around my waist, hauling me backwards. “Enough, baby,” my dad says into my ear.
“I’m tired of them!” I yell. “I’m still your daughter,” I spit to my mother. “I’m still your sister,” I spit to Gretchen. “How dare you treat me so badly because I’m not who you want me to be!”
“Make her stop, Daddy!” Gretchen squeals at my father. “She pulled my hair out. Oh my God, my hair.”
When my dad speaks, his voice is like a whip. It’s a tone I’ve never heard him use with them. “I love you all, you’re my family, but if I ever have to listen to you taunt Gracie like that again, so help me God, I’ll drop you all on your skinny, pretty asses and leave you with fucking nothing!” He’s roaring now. “Because if it wasn’t for me, you’d have no beauty queen lifestyle.” Then he turns his gaze to my mother. “You should be ashamed of yourself. I’ve never been embarrassed to call you my wife until right now.”
Her mouth drops open and her bottom lip quivers as Dad turns us both and practically carries me out the front door. He takes me to his car and guides me to the front seat, and I don’t dare protest. He gets into the driver’s side and takes off with the squealing of wheels. His fingers are tight around the steering wheel and his jaw is ticking. My dad is a big, scary man when he wants to be.
“Dad?” I whisper.
He says nothing, his eyes are intense, and he’s angry. I know he’s angry.
“Daddy?” I try again.
“Didn’t know, I didn’t —”
“Dad—”
“I didn’t know she spoke to you like that. I knew what they were, but I never … I never knew it was like that.”
“It’s not your fault,” I whisper.
“Like fuck it isn’t!” he barks.
I flinch. Dad doesn’t swear. He doesn’t yell. He’s always so calm.
“Dad,” I try again.
He pulls the car over into a deserted parking lot and turns to me, he reaches over, taking my face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t know she was so … cold.”