The Artisans (4 page)

Thoughts of planting the heel of my boot in his groin keep me busy. My wish must be obvious because Gideon smiles wider. He stands there, staring me down. In fact, we eye each other like Cobra and Mongoose.

“Try not to struggle, Raven. I assure you, no one escapes from me.”

“What the hell?” Dane asks. A wisp of smoke leaves his mouth as he takes the last drag off his cigarette. He tosses the butt to the ground and gives me his trademark scowl. “You can’t seriously be considering this deal with Maddox.”

Me, Dane, and Maggie Wilson, my only other real friend, lounge on the hood of her Toyota Camry in the parking lot in front of Harry’s Shoe and Leather Repair Shop. The Sales Hollow Plaza hosts a total of four shops: the shoe shop we manage, Maxim Liquor (a favorite of Ben’s until they cut off his credit), Zany’s Thrift, and Real Quick Pawn where Jacob works. The strip mall is a thing of beauty, really.

“Quit it.” Maggie shoves his formidable shoulder. “Don’t make her feel worse. What are her options?”

When I returned from Gideon’s house to the shop, Ben was asleep on the storeroom floor. I woke him up, filled him in, and waited for a response. Lifting his head, he stared up at me for a minute. Then he drooled on himself before his eyes glazed over and he face-planted on his pillow. He’s been there ever since. Beat up and drying out, he needs the rest.

I needed to talk to someone, and so despite Gideon’s warnings, I phoned the only two people in the world I trust. Both would endure being flayed alive before they’d tell anyone my secrets.

Maggie faces me. “I’m sorry, Raven. I’d be scared to death if I had to live in that creepy old house with total strangers.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” My wry smile is meant to convey two things: I’ll face this decision better with my cynicism intact, and I know she loves me.

Dane’s palm casually covers the spot where Maggie touched him. She’s five-foot-two and curvy. Okay, plump, but despite her lack of stature, the girl packs a wallop. Dane’s eyes harden, his jaw clenches. She’s killing him, has been since they met a year ago, and it’s a sweet, slow, torturous thing. He’d die for her and she has no idea, stupid girl. I can’t tell her either since he’s convinced her dad’s middle-class income makes her too good for him. That and he promises never to speak to me again if I do. The sad thing is he means it.

“No, but really,” Maggie goes on, “Suppose Maddox sticks to his word? He’s greedy, but that doesn’t mean he’d hurt Raven. He said she could go to school, where she’ll be expected and seen every day. Ben gets the expensive counseling needed to get sober, and Rae gets experience designing for a huge corporation.”

All the girl needs is a set of pom-poms. She’s delusional, but I love her. Maggie frowns when I pat her hand.

“What? I’m serious.”

Dane opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “I know you are, Mags.”

She looks from me to Dane, as if convincing us is her life’s ambition. “All right, think of it like an internship you don’t get paid for. Maybe Rae’s name starts popping up in magazines or on runways. Once the year is over, Maddox might write her a recommendation, even give her some recognition. It might actually work out okay.”

Dane stares at Mags, mouth agape. “Sure, if he doesn’t rape or kill her first. Maybe he’ll make her president of Maddox Enterprises. Even better, they’ll get married and have five kids. Are you insane?”

I cringe, and Maggie’s hand shoots out. Her arm braces against my chest as though I’m a passenger in her car and she’s slamming on her brakes. “Shut up, Dane. I’m trying to be optimistic. It’s not like she has any choice.”

She’s right about that.

“I’m sorry,” Dane says, without an ounce of sincerity. “But I’ve done some checking, heard some creepy ass shit about that house—ghosts, disappearances, a drowning … ghosts. You want her to sleep there for a year?”

“Still not helping.” I roll my eyes heavenward and silently ask for help.

“Cut it out,” Maggie orders.

“No. He’s stealing her designs, pure and simple,” Dane tosses his hands in the air. The movement highlights the intricate tattoos on his mahogany skin. “That rich asshole sees her talent. He’ll rob her blind, make millions off her skill, and she’ll get the shaft. Raven has to finish high school, leave Sales Hollow, and go to college.” He crosses his arms, like he’s some Persian King and his opinion makes a difference.

Only Dane would put the words ‘Rae’ and ‘college’ in the same sentence. He ought to know better, but the kid never gives up on anyone but himself. The truth is my dreams for a solid future died with my mother. I just didn’t know it then.

Sales Hollow High has a graduating class of one hundred students, the largest in years. Few will stay, though. They’ll go to college at UGA or ‘Bama, anywhere but here. Design school in New York? I wish. It’s out of reach even to dream about SCAD right here in Savannah. Bringing me again to my current, hopeless situation.

Maggie’s cheeks flush. “What’s your solution, Dane? Put them on a bus? Where would they go, they’ve got no money.” Her short, blond bob bounces with her head shake. The single pink stripe in front swishes like a ribbon.

“At least the bus is a chance. Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk, but Ben made his choices. How long does Rae have to keep paying for them?”

Maggie tucks a lock of platinum hair behind her ear as she does whenever she’s frustrated, and with Dane, that’s pretty much all the time. “She’ll get there. She’s seventeen years old, for crying out loud. A lot could still happen to her.
For
her, I meant
for
her …” Maggie’s expression twists into an apologetic frown.

My stomach lurches, inviting my breakfast to reappear. “No offense, but all this cheering up is making me ill.” I slide off the hood of Maggie’s car and head toward the shop’s front door. “I need to talk to Ben.” No use putting this off any longer. “I’ll see you guys later, okay? Since I only have a few days left of freedom, please don’t fight.”

Dane and Maggie’s spines straighten. They send stiff smiles my way, and Dane raises a hand. I acknowledge the try, but as I head inside to find Ben, I hear their argument rekindling.

The bell clangs as I push the door open. Edgar comes running like a dog, greeting me with his silly, high-pitched meow. I bend, lifting the oaf into my arms and yell, “Ben?”

“Yep.” His voice travels from somewhere deeper in the store.

When I glance in the storeroom, he’s sitting on his sleeping bag. The man from my childhood was kind, and strong, and handsome. Only a shadow of that man rests bruised and beaten before me. Left eye swollen shut, he peers at me with his right. His cheeks are sunken, skin sallow and paper-thin. Dark veins fork over his red, swollen nose.

“You hungry?” I ask, noting the tremor in his hands. He shakes his head. With his injuries so severe, I’m guessing he drank what booze he had stashed at the shop and hasn’t been able to get out for more. I ease onto the floor across from him and adjust Edgar on my lap. “Decision time, Ben. We’ve got to choose what to do. I leave for Maddox’s place at the end of the week. What about you?”

I love my stepfather, no question, but I ready myself for the lies I assume are coming. The excuses as to why he can’t go to rehab. Empty promises, the apologies, pleading, anger, defensiveness, and tears loom on the horizon of all our talks. My responses always follow. I apply a thick layer of guilt, manipulation, fear, exhaustion, resentment, and false hope that if we do the same things one more time—something will magically change. Ladies and gentlemen, please choose your partners. It’s time for the spotlight dance between alcoholic and enabler.

Ben lifts his chin. “I’m going to Maddox.”

I stiffen. His response is a dance step I don’t know. “He’ll hurt you, Ben, maybe worse.”

“So, I should let you take that risk?” I open my mouth, but Ben raises a quaking palm effectively silencing me. “Hear me out, okay?” I nod, unwilling to entertain any idea having to do with him meeting Maddox. “I’m not a young man, anymore. When your mother died, anything good inside me did, too. For her sake, I deluded myself into thinking I’d stay, take care of you, but it’s all been a lie.” He runs his hands through his greasy hair and squeezes. “I failed you, and I failed her, and the more I fail the more I drink.” He lifts his head, his hands dropping to his lap. “You’re better off without me.”

“No.” Even if it was true, what he’s missing is the hope that he and I could still be a normal father and daughter. This is our chance.

“Let me do this,” he says. “For once in my life let me do the honorable thing. Let me go to be at peace, to rest with your mama. It’s what I want.”

Anger boils in my gut like a pot on the stove. “What
you
want?” I bite my lip to curb my tongue and choose my words carefully. “You want to talk about honor? Doing the right thing? What is that exactly, Ben, and right for who?” The roil of bubbling fury in my stomach simmers barely below the surface. “If you want to be a hero, then make your decision based on me this time. What
I
want, because it’s always been about you, hasn’t it?”

He winces, but I’m just getting started. “Did it ever occur to you that just because I can survive and feed myself doesn’t mean that I want to? I don’t enjoy being alone, Ben. I’ve had enough of that. You’re the family I have left and the only link to my mother. Your memories of her are precious to me. I remember our life in the before, when you were my Poppa.” I don’t know what causes me to use the old title. Perhaps on principle because I haven’t called him that in years. “
You
matter to me! Don’t you understand?” Tears slip down my face. Old wounds reopen as I try and explain what he means to me. Exasperation swamps my lungs, and I heave a breath.

“I’m sorry.”

My shoulders slump. “Don’t be sorry. Be brave. Go to rehab.” My eyes implore him to simply try.

“What if rehab don’t work?”

My mind screams, but I fight to keep my voice steady. “One of two things will happen to us now, Ben. If Maddox is full of shit, we both die. You said yourself that’s what you want anyway, but if you’re getting help at a rehab that we could never afford otherwise, it’s worth the risk to me.” I lean against the stock shelf behind me with a long sigh. “Truthfully, the reason I’m going is because I honestly believe Maddox wants my designs to rejuvenate his clothing business, and not my life. I really do. I have something he wants, and that’s why he won’t hurt me.”

My stepfather rubs his hand over the sprouting silver whiskers on his chin.

I have no idea if my theory about Gideon is right, but I have to convince Ben. It’s my best attempt at bluffing, and I learned from a pro. “And here’s the million dollar question, Pops. What if rehab does work?”

He glances at me and shrugs. A tentative smile pulls at his lips while tears still shimmer on his lashes. “It’s a gamble.”

“I’m willing to bet on you.”

“Always did like the long odds.”

“A hundred to one, but think of the payout.” I’m done coaxing. The cheese factor is climbing, and I’m running out of gambling euphemisms. “What’ll it be, Pops?” He’s squirming, rubbing his gnarled hands together. I can almost see the gears in his head turning. Thinking, scamming, plotting a way out; he’s searching for another option. One that will bring his next drink, his next fix, but we both know that isn’t going to work. Not this time.

“What the hell.” He finally says, “I’ll go.”

A heartbeat later and the week is gone. The night’s sky is inky and calm. It’s as if someone drew a black sheet between the earth and sun, then poked holes in the fabric with a pin to let dots of light shine through.

All I have in the world fits inside two duffle bags. They sit like a bad omen on the backseat of my car. Earlier, I refused Dane and Maggie’s offer to come with me, but promised I’d call tonight once I’m situated. I’ll keep that promise, if only to keep Dane from showing up and tearing the front door off its hinges to check on me.

At eleven thirty today, a stretch limo pulled up to our little storefront and collected Ben. Swallowed up behind a big, black door of opulence, he’s heading to Belle Meade, a rehab center in Savannah, forty-seven miles away. What will come of all this I can’t say, but a tiny wing-beat of hope flutters in my chest.