Trashy (17 page)

Shep

The Camaro is idling. I’m at the edge of the next town. If I get back on the road, I’ll be hitting the interstate. It’s basically a straight shot south to get to the Carolinas.

It was stupid to run. I know it. Buck’s voice in my head is the whole reason I’m pulled over. Hesitating.

Nothing has hurt me worse than leaving Vickie and Buck. When I’d glanced at their sleeping bodies last night, it was like I was carving out a piece of me. You’d think carving it out would make it easier, but instead it’s like all the good I have left in me is bleeding all over the goddamned place.

Buck is right. Running makes me look guilty. But the fact that I’d seen it again: that flash in his eyes. That told me he thought maybe I could’ve done it. Damn, that killed more than any judgement on Jake’s face.

It burns to know people think it of me, but I’d rather they think it of me than know the truth. I could take the hate and the looks, but my grandma never could’ve. She was doing what she thought best. She never told me why she did it, and she didn’t have to.

My dad was an ass. My mom had been scared for years he was gonna kill her. Me, too. So when I came into the kitchen to see Grandma with the knife and my folks on the floor, I knew what’d happened. Dad had gone too far, and Grandma had stopped him.

Her pain had been too much to see. The guilt stained her worse than the red on her hands. I did what I had to. I took care of it.

Now my parent’s bodies are buried and my grandma’s secret with them. Lloyd and Anne, though… well, now, I had nothing to do with that. I don’t even wish I had. I meant it when I told Lloyd I’d kill him, but he’d have had to try something.

My stomach growls. There’s a gas station with a burger joint attached. Pulling in to grab food seems like another excuse. Another delay. Without Vickie and Buck, I feel disjointed. Like a shell of myself. I’m stalling because the truth is, I don’t know if I can leave them.

This morning, though, Buck’s look haunted me. It’d controlled my thoughts. What if Vickie picked up on it? What if they both thought they couldn't trust me? Or worse: what if they believed me, and were forced to watch me rot in prison anyway?

When I’ve got my burger and I’m in the car again, my phone buzzes. I’ve been ignoring it, but the hope that it’s one of them calling me is large. It’s the mine.

“This is Shep,” I answer.

“Shep, this is Rick.”

“This about when I can come back? Because,” I hesitate, knowing I’m in the car and prepped to keep running. If I leave the state, I’m leaving that job. “I’m thinking about using my vacation time a little longer.”

“Wellllll,” Rick draws it out, making it four syllables. “About that. I’m thinking it’s probably a good idea if you don’t come back.”

Anger claws at me, even though I was just thinking the same thing. The difference was, I liked it when it was my choice. “You don’t say.” It comes out like a dare.
Tell me why and see what happens
.

Rick hears the threat, and I can practically feel his discomfort, even though we’re on the phone. “It’s just that the police were here about the incident at the park. And Bill’s been talking to a lawyer about his leg. He said you started the cave in by attacking him, and you knocked him out and cut off his leg to try and get rid of him.”

My hand rubs through my beard. “That sounds crazy, you know. The part about Bill. You were there.”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“What does John say?”

“He’s vouching for you. But I guess Bill’s pretty persistent and trying to gather character witnesses. I don’t think John’s said anything official yet, and you know they’re friends--”

“You’re friends with Bill, too. Why’re you telling me all this?”

“Because while I didn’t see what happened, I know for a fact that the only reason the three of you got out of there was because you kept your cool. You’ve always been a good, reliable worker, Shep. Ain’t nothin’ can change that.”

It wasn’t the same as saying he thought Bill was lying, but I appreciated it for what it was. A small sign of respect. “Well, thanks, I guess. What do you think I should do?”

“Get a lawyer. A good one. You’ll need it for Bill and for the police. Their questioning wasn’t sounding good for you, Shep.”

“Okay. Thanks again.” I hang up, stunned. Bill was a motherfucker. I saved his life. My fist connects with the dashboard and the flaring bloom of pain helps clear the wild sweep of my rage. I saved his
life,
and he’s trying to ruin mine. No good deed goes unpunished, I guess, when everyone thinks you’re a murderer.

The phone buzzes again, and at first I think it’s Rick, calling back. It isn’t.
Buck
. Sliding the phone open, I answer, my voice not hiding my hurt as well as I’d like. “Hey.”

“Why are you meeting Vickie out at the cabin in the park?”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Vickie left me a note that said she got a text from you to meet her there. That you were going to show her something.” There’s a wariness in Buck’s tone, and I realize that he’s scared. Did he think I’d hurt Vickie, too?

“I haven’t talked to her or texted her since I left, Buck. Read me the note.”

“
Buck, good news. Shep’s still in town. He wants me to meet him at the cabin. You know, in the park? Where all the parties are held? Anyway, I took my bike, so I can just see you there. He’s got something to show us-- I bet it’ll show you that he’s innocent.”

My heart skips a beat. “Buck, that doesn’t sound like anything I’d do.” Worry is creeping into my tone too, replacing the hurt.

“Fuck,” he cusses. “You shouldn’t have run.”

“I didn’t do it, but they were going to lock me up for it, anyway. You know that.”

His breathing is rough and ragged through the phone line. “You’re right. I know it. I know you didn’t kill her mom, and Jake was looking at you like you were going to give him a promotion.”

“Exactly.”

“Which means the killer is still out there.”

My hand on the wheel tightens, knuckles bursting white from the strain. “Get the guns ready and meet me at the park entrance.”

“I was thinking the same thing, Shep.” He hung up.

Some part of me itched to call the cops instead. But with the warning Rick gave me and the memory of Jake’s face, I know they’ll arrest first and ask questions later. If they don’t shoot first, that is. Later will mean too late for Vickie. I don’t even think about the fact that it could already be too late.

So no. No cops. And whoever has tricked Vickie out there is about to discover why it was the worst decision of their life.

Vickie

“Put your wrists together, Whore.” Clay’s voice rumbles through me, his hate giving it power. I’m too scared to be a smartass because he’s got a large knife poking in my side. The sharp end is grazing my flesh just enough for me to feel a trickle of blood.

My wrists touch, and he quickly sheathes his knife and zip ties them together.

“Bet you wish you’d never shacked up with those assholes now, don’t you, Vickie?” Trembling,fear squeezes my throat too tight to talk. Clay doesn’t seem to mind. He’s happy to keep talking at me. “Lloyd never paid me the full amount back, you know. He and your whore mother spent some of it. He said I’d made a ‘non-refundable deposit’ on your cherry. Ten thousand dollars I won, and he gave me two of it back and threatened to hurt me if I came asking for the rest. How’s that fair?”

Now I’m mad. Not just at Clay, but at Lloyd and my mama. That’s the same crap they pulled with me. Lying about numbers and keeping the lion’s share for themselves. But they’re dead, and Clay has tied me up, so and I lash out at him, instead. “Anyone tell you life’s not fair?”

“Oh, so you got a mouth living with them, did you?” His fingers grip my jaw hard enough I imagine I’ll bruise tomorrow. If I’m alive tomorrow. “I bet you did,” he sneers. “I bet they taught you all sorts of things to do with that mouth.”

Refusing to dignify his remarks with a reply, my cheeks sting with hurt and anger. Why was he doing this?

“Your mom and Lloyd really pulled one over on me,” he goes back to what he apparently wants to bitch about. When my eyes dart toward the exit, his head shakes.
No, you don’t
, his eyes say. “But I showed them. Lloyd thought his muscle would scare me. I guess I should thank Buck and Shep for taking that advantage away from him.”

Like a punch to the gut, I understand what he’s saying. “You killed them.”

“No shit, Vickie. That blond must be real.” He fingers the ends of my curls lovingly, and it’s so similar to how Buck and Shep touch my hair that I think I might be sick. “It was your hair that I loved the most, Vickie. And that sweet, sweet cherry.” This memory makes his eyes narrow. “I’m sure that’s gone, too, like all my money.”

Clay backhands me hard, and I see stars as I fall to my knees. He sinks beside me and pulls me to his chest. Tears spring from my eyes, my cheekbone and jaw throbbing with pain. “Shh,” he says in my ear as he pets my head. “Now don’t cry-- you and I both know you deserved that. We had a deal, you and me, and you backed out of it.” His comfort is worse than the vitriol he was spewing. I sob harder, because the rock in my stomach is growing as I start to understand where this is headed.

His fingers brush some of my hair, now damp with tears, from my face. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I hurt you. I just needed you to understand that you hurt me.”

Sniffling, I nod. It’s an act of self preservation, I think. Clay’s actions are all over the place. His eyes are wide, his body constantly shifting and jittery. I suppose it’s a guess, but he’s acting like he did more than just pay to sleep with me. He’s talking like it would have lead to more. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Clay stills in my arms. “Thank you,” he says. The lilt of surprise doesn’t help me relax, but it seems to relax him. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to survive this. I don’t know what he’d planned when he’d lured me out here. But, heart racing, my brain is kicking in and trying to scramble for a way to keep me alive.

I left the note for Buck. Clay probably thinks I didn’t. After all, he lied and said he’d text Buck. There’s a flutter, competing with the rock in my gut, that says maybe he’ll find me in time. Or at least make sure Clay gets his. Because I know Buck and Shep, and they aren’t going to let anyone who hurts me get away.

“I tried so hard to get the courage to talk to you, Vickie.” Clay releases me and sits back on his heels. “You’ve always been so pretty. When you turned thirteen, you started looking like a woman and I knew I’d be in love with you. I’d just have to wait until it was time.” He tips my chin up with his fingers, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Lloyd had been bragging about you turning eighteen. He was going to auction you off, you see?” The fingers on my chin grip harder, and his eyes narrow to slits. “I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t want that for you!”

“But you--”

A wash of shame passed over his features. “I did, but I did it for you. For us. If you’d just have gone with me, I’d have explained. You and I are meant to be together. I was meant to be your first.” A low growl comes from deep in his chest and he slaps me again, open handed. It stings and the loud
pop
of it makes it feel worse than it is. He slaps me again, and then once more.

“I can’t believe you ran straight to those two trailer park losers! Spread your legs for them! Not just one man, Vickie, but two!
Two
! I have a house. I was going to take care of you. But you had to go and ruin it!” His hand knots in my hair, and he jerks my head back so hard I fear for a moment my neck will snap. Instead, my muscles and spine scream in protest. “I’m going to have to claim you, Vickie. Over and over. It’s not going to feel good at first, because you deserve punishment. But after I’ve erased them from every inch of your body, we can try and move on together.”

“They won’t let you.” The angle of my neck makes my warning sound weak and raspy. “Buck and Shep-- they won’t let you take me away.”

His laugh makes a shiver run down my spine. “Please. Shep’s probably locked up already. I watched as the police combed your parents’ place. They think it was him. And Buck is nothing without Shep. Everyone thought it was him that saved Shep. That Shep relied on him.
Please
. Buck’s been Shep’s bitch since the day they met.”

“You’re wrong.” He hadn’t seen how Buck can wrestle power from Shep. Buck knows how to push Shep in just the right ways. The two bulls. Always equal. “Buck needs Shep, but not the way you think.” Buck didn’t need Shep to make him strong. He was that already. He needed Shep to remind him that there’s a need for love, a place for it, in the trailer park. That family didn’t mean flesh and blood.

“Shut up!” Clay hisses. “You think they love you? They just wanted to take what’s mine!”

I was never yours
is on the tip of my tongue but I swallow it when Clay’s hand unconsciously fingers the handle of his knife. My face is beginning to feel stretched tight and I know that it’s swelling from his hits.

“No sassy remarks?” He jeers and pokes at me. “You are getting too big for your britches, Little Miss.” The knife flashes out and he hooks the waistband of my jeans. “Well, let’s just remind you what happens when you think you’re better than me.” I scream as the knife slides into my pants. It’s a hunting knife, serrated instead of sharp, and he’s forced to work it hard to slice through the tough fabric. Cool air hits my bare flesh.

“Oh.” He hums a bit. “That ass is even sweeter than I imagined.” Shoving me down, my face and chest catch on the dirt floor of the old tobacco barn. With my hands bound I can’t push myself up. I snort and scream into the packed dirt as his tongue drags up my bare hip. He slaps my ass hard. Unlike when Shep and Buck do it, there’s no teasing promise. It just hurts. I can taste the dirt in my mouth.

My sobs don’t cease as Clay positions himself behind me. Then he freezes. “Did you hear that?”

I can’t answer, my tears jagged and uncontrollable. I can’t hear anything over my choked cries and terror. Clay, though, seems sure he heard something because he’s up, fast as a rabbit and just as nervous. “Stay there, you slut.”

Falling to my side, my exposed ass to the wall, I curl into myself, afraid. Clay melts into the shadows like he did when I first arrived, and I realize he’s setting the oldest trap in the book: Using bait.

Fear tangles around me, a net that constricts the more I fight it. “Run away!” I scream. “He’s got a knife!” Not ‘help.’ Because calling for help would drag whoever it was in here in a heartbeat. I’d be doing exactly as he wanted.

When a familiar voice rings out, time stops.