Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) (27 page)

Whether we were together or not, I was done
with secrets, and done with surprises. Besides, this thing would go
a whole lot better if he knew up front what he was getting
into.

"Trust me," I said, "by the end of the day,
you'll be wishing for the other kind."

"I don't care. I'm just glad you called."

"Oh, that's what you say now," I said.

"Ask me later," he said. "I'll say the same
thing."

I still couldn't believe I'd caught him at
home. "You didn't have plans today?" It was a holiday, after
all.

He shrugged. "I had invitations. None I
wanted."

"Yeah," I said. "I know the feeling."

Given the choice between having someone
handcuff me in a basement or spending a single holiday
Loretta-style, it was no contest.

I'd take the basement.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, feeling the
vibration of the seat course through me. Oh, Lawton would regret
this, alright. Maybe he didn't think so now, but he would. A couple
hours with Loretta, and he'd be begging for a nice crowbar to the
face.

"For someone who's about to put me through
the ringer," he said over the engine's roar, "you don't look too
happy."

I opened my eyes and stole another glance in
his direction. "That's because I can't just send you in my
place."

Still holding the salad, I fumbled for my
cell phone to check the time. "We've got ten minutes," I said. The
next road sign passed in a blur. If we'd been going the speed
limit, we'd be at least fifteen minutes away. I didn't need to look
at the speedometer to know we were going quite a bit faster than
that.

"Oh c'mon," Lawton said. "What are they gonna
do? Lock the doors?"

"You don't think they wouldn’t?" I tried to
keep my tone light, but somehow missed the mark. "You poor,
misguided fool."

I leaned down to shove the cell phone back in
my purse, and before I knew what was happening, the salad toppled
off my lap. The clear wrapping came loose and half of the lettuce
spilled onto my shoes.

"Oh my God," I said. "Stop the car! No. Wait.
Keep going." Desperately, I righted the bowl. With the lost
lettuce, the salad looked way too small. This was bad. Maybe if
fluffed it up or something—"

I glanced over at Lawton. His gaze shifted
briefly in my direction. His brow wrinkled.

And then it hit me how rude I was being. "Oh
jeez, sorry about your floor mat," I said. I pushed a hand through
my hair. "I guess I should've apologized first, huh?"

"Don't worry about it," he said. "It's just
lettuce. No big deal."

"Yeah, I guess," I said in a distracted tone.
"Good thing it wasn't soup, huh?"

"Salad, soup, whatever, it all cleans up." He
turned briefly to look at me, and his tone grew serious. "Baby,
what's wrong?"

I glanced down at the salad. I shook my head.
"It's too small." I reached up to rub my forehead. "This is bad.
What am I gonna do?"

"Chloe," he said in a low, soothing voice,
"it's just a salad."

"No," I snapped. "It's not just a salad. You
don't get it. This? It's a big deal. Because everything's a big
deal."

Still driving, Lawton reached for my hand.
"C'mon, what is it?"

I couldn't bring myself to pull away. And for
once, it had nothing to do with my crazy, mixed-up feelings for
him.

His hand felt big and strong, and so much
steadier than my own was. Between the car trouble and my own
clumsiness, I was feeling a growing sense of dread. What if things
went downhill from here?

"Nothing," I said with a shake of my head.
"It's fine. Watch the road, alright?"

It wasn't fine, of course. If the salad
turned out to be the thing that sent Loretta over the edge, I'd be
kicking myself all the way there and back. I took a deep breath and
tried to steady my nerves.

I dealt with Loretta all the time. But today,
she was already on the warpath. I'd be inside that house for at
least a couple hours, tripping over land mines everywhere I
stepped. If one of those things blew up, it wouldn’t be just me
getting hurt.

Our last holiday had been so awful. What if
this one went the same way?

I couldn’t let it. No way. I wouldn't let it
happen. Not this time. I leaned back and shut my eyes as tight as I
could, and not because of our decidedly unsafe speed.

"Aw c'mon," Lawton said, "it can't be that
bad."

"I hope you're right," I said. "And this
time, you'll be there, so—" I shrugged and let the sentence trail
off.

"So? Go on."

"Well, normally they're a lot nicer in front
of strangers." I opened my eyes to look at him. "And you're a
stranger to them, so—" I shook my head. "Crap, I don't know. What
if it backfires?"

"Chloe?" His voice was low. "Are you
scared?"

I turned to look out the window. "No."

He was quiet for a moment, and then he said,
"Baby, what is it?"

I remembered my vow. No more lies, no more
secrets. "Okay, here's the thing." I blew out a breath. "I almost
never go there, and when I do, it's always awful."

"What's so awful about it?"

"Like my dad," I said, "Whenever he has
company over, he starts talking funny."

"How so?"

"Well, he's a commercial real estate
broker–"

"A salesman?"

"Basically," I said. "So he's always trying
to bond with whoever he's talking to, but he never gets it quite
right."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, one time, Loretta had this Australian
couple over for dinner, and by the time we hit dessert, my dad's
talking in this weird accent, more English than anything."

Lawton's brow wrinkled. "But you said they
were Australian, right?"

"Yeah, and the harder my dad tries to show
that he's exactly like them, the worse everything gets. They start
talking less. He starts talking more." I shook my head. "I'm pretty
sure they thought my dad was making fun of them."

Lawton laughed. "Aw c'mon, that's not so
bad."

"I guess," I said. "And actually, it's a lot
better than how he acts when it's just family."

"How so?"

"Well, when no one's there except us and
Loretta, he's either giving me and Josh a hard time or kissing
Loretta's butt."

"Who's Loretta?"

"My stepmother, who totally hates me, by the
way."

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"Mostly, she hates everyone, well, except for
her own daughter." I paused. "And my dad. Sometimes."

"What about your brother?"

"That's the worst part," I said. "She doesn't
loathe him quite as much as she does me, but she still has this way
of tormenting him, even when she's pretending to be nice."

Lawton said nothing as he down-shifted to
pass an oversized pickup truck. We blew past him like he was
standing still.

"Oh, I know what you're thinking," I said.
"You think I'm exaggerating, right?"

"I never said that."

"Uh-huh." I felt my stomach churn at the
memory of my last holiday there. "You'll see. It doesn't take
anything to set her off."

"Like what? Gimme an example."

"Well, a couple of Easters ago, it was oyster
gravy."

I glanced in his direction. The look on his
face said it all. Disgusted. And he was right.

Our shared loathing of seafood was just one
of the many reasons I loved him. Correction – one of the many
reasons I
used
to love him, before everything had gotten so
messed up.

Before he locked me in his basement. Or
assumed I was a hooker.

He shook his head. "That's just wrong."

No kidding. If I were willing to have sex for
money, my life would've been a whole lot simpler.

"So," he said in a prompting tone. "The
gravy?"

Oh, right. Loretta. Gravy.

I nodded. "Supposedly, it's a delicacy. Or at
least, that's what Loretta keeping telling us."

Lawton's tires squealed around the next turn.
"I've got this friend from Texas," he said. "Know what he'd say to
that?"

"What?"

Lawton assumed a Western drawl. "You can call
it Nancy and put a dress on it. But I'm still not gonna eat
it."

"Say that to Loretta, and you're a dead man."
I felt the corners of my mouth lift just a fraction. "As much as
I'd totally love to see that."

"So about Easter?" Lawton said. "What
happened?"

"Anyway, Loretta made this special batch of
oyster gravy, and then flipped out when we didn't want any."

"You and your brother?"

"Yeah. And Lauren Jane too, except she didn't
get in trouble for it."

"Who's Lauren Jane?"

"Loretta's daughter."

"Ah."

"And then there was my dad, no help as usual.
I lowered my voice in a decent imitation of him. "Loretta spent all
morning in the kitchen making this for us, and the least you kids
can do is have some."

"So did you?"

I nodded.

"How was it?" he asked.

I shuddered. "Awful. Like fish-barf."

"But your dad likes it?"

"Nope."

"So he doesn't eat it."

"Nope."

Lawton was shaking his head. "I don't get
it."

"Don't get me wrong," I said. "He'd probably
eat a smoking turd if Loretta asked him to."

"Better than fish barf," Lawton said.

"On second thought," I said, "you know what?
He wouldn’t eat it. He'd make
us
do it. That way, he gets
the credit, and we get the shaft."

I glanced again at Lawton. His expression was
stony, but his tone was carefully neutral as he said, "So
Loretta
likes the gravy?"

"I dunno," I said. "Couldn’t tell you either
way. She's always on a diet. So it's not like she actually eats the
stuff herself. Mostly, she just picks at a salad or something and
goes straight for dessert."

Lawton's eyebrows furrowed. "So this gravy,
who exactly was supposed to eat it?"

I shrugged. "Me and Josh, I guess."

There was no trace of humor as he said, "Go
on."

"So like I said, there's no getting out of
it. At least not for me. So I put some on my potatoes, and take a
bite."

"And?"

"Like I said, it's awful." I swallowed at the
memory. "Worse than awful actually. But I know what I've got to do,
so I smile and tell her it's delicious."

"Was she happy?"

"Loretta?" I said. "Never. But at least she's
not throwing plates. So I keep shoveling it down, figuring that
once it's gone, the whole thing's over, right?"

"It wasn't?"

"No," I said, glancing out the window. "It
was just beginning."

His voice was very quiet in the noisy car.
"What happened next?"

"So Josh," I said, "he's a picky eater.
Always has been. And no matter how many times my dad tells him that
something's a delicacy, he still doesn't want anything to do with
it."

"Smart kid."

"You have no idea," I said, feeling the hint
of a real smile. "So anyway, Josh keeps saying 'no thanks' to the
gravy, but Loretta won't take no for an answer. So she shoves at
this vase, and it tips over. Flowers spill, the vase cracks, and my
dad gets mad."

"At Loretta?"

I gave a derisive snort. "Dream on. No. At
Josh. So my dad grabs a ladle and starting slopping all this gravy
onto Josh's plate, one scoop after another. And this crap gets on
everything, not just the potatoes either." I shook my head. "The
chicken, the corn, even the salad."

I closed my eyes as if I could somehow block
out the memory. Someday, Josh and I might be able to laugh about
it. But someday seemed a long ways off.

I glanced at Lawton. Any trace of good humor
had had long since vanished. "Keep going," he said.

"So," I continued, "my dad tells Josh that
he's not getting another thing to eat 'til he finishes what's on
his plate, even though it looks like some fish threw up on it."

"What happened? Did he eat it?"

I shook my head. "No. Josh just sits there,
looking down at his plate, and my dad keeps hassling him, saying
what a great cook Loretta is, and how lucky Josh is to be living
under her roof. And the whole time, Loretta's just sitting there
with this half-smile on her face, like everything is turning out
exactly like she planned. And Josh, he doesn't eat anything else.
Not one bite. And I can tell he wants to cry."

I blew out a breath. "But he's in fourth
grade. Or at least he was back then, so he's too big to cry. And
he's too little to take on my dad, obviously, or Loretta for that
matter. So he doesn't do anything but stare at his plate until
everyone else is done."

"But what'd
you
do?" Lawton said. "You
were there, so–"

"Yeah. I was there. And I
knew
I'd be
smart to stay out of it."

Lawton sounded confused. "Because you didn't
need the trouble?"

I turned sideways to face him. The salad
wobbled precariously. I grabbed it and held on for dear life. "No,"
I said, "Because I know better, or least I should've. Because every
time I try to help, I just make it worse."

"Is that what happened this time?"

"Oh yeah. Because stupid me, I couldn't just
let it go. But doing the thing I
want
to do is completely
out of the question."

"What was that?"

"Breaking that damn vase over her head."

"Sounds good to me," he said.

"Yeah, but I don't want to make everything
worse. So as nice as I could, I suggest letting Josh get a new
plate. I say stuff like, 'I think we've all learned a good lesson
here.'" I shook my head. "What a load of crap. Anyway, I get Josh
to say he'll try some gravy on his potatoes if we can just start
over."

"So that's what happened?"

"Hell no. Because by now, my dad's all worked
up. He gives us this big lecture on how we don't appreciate how
much Loretta's done for us. Then one thing leads to another, and
I'm so stupid that I actually give an honest opinion on why Loretta
made that stupid gravy in the first place."