Untamed (8 page)

Instantly, I let go of Duncan’s hand, and watch as Dad storms up to us.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he says, his voice trembling on a tightrope.

He didn’t notice!

“Relax, Glass,” Duncan says. “We’ve just been getting some air.”

“Get the fuck back inside, now,” Dad spits. He turns his angry eyes on me. “Go! You’re making me look bad. They ask me where my daughter is, and I have no fucking idea. Why are you always so difficult, damn it, Dei—”

Duncan steps forward, body tensing up. I take his sleeve subtly, pull on it.

“Relax, Glass,” he says to Dad, words low and spaced out. “It’s no big deal. We just went for a walk.”

“Have you been drinking, too?”

Duncan just glowers at him.

“You two are always ganging up on me,” Dad complains, before he turns around and stalks off back toward the function room, and Duncan and I walk slowly in his fuming wake.

“What an asshole,” I say. “I really don’t like him. God, I wish we could get out of here.”

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“How?”

“Easy. I’ll do my rounds, and I’ve got a fight in two days I need to prepare for. You’ve got classes tomorrow, and you’re my ride home tonight.”

“But I’m not your ride home tonight. I didn’t even bring my car. Dad had Frank pick me up in the limo. God, like I needed his limo pulling up to my dorm building with everyone watching.”

“Come on, just stick with me.”

“I can handle Dad myself, you know.”

“I know you can, Dee,” he says, stopping me, taking my hand. He presses it to his mouth, playfully bites one of my fingers.

I cast a quick look down the hallway to see Dad disappearing into the function room, his jacket flapping behind him.

“And?”

“But if we make it about me, he won’t crawl up your ass about it.”

“I don’t need you to take the fall for me.”

“He’s afraid of me. I won’t be taking any fall.”

I sigh, pull my hand from him slowly. “I just shouldn’t have to live like this. I thought moving out, leaving home, would get me out from under his shadow, but he’s always over me, Duncan. He just never leaves me alone.”

“Dee,” he says. “Just a little bit longer.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see. Now come on, follow my lead.”

Duncan and I walk back into the function room, and he immediately goes to the bar.

“Scotch and soda.”

The old man does a double take. “I thought you weren’t drinking?”

“Scotch… and… soda.”

The bartender pours the drink in a hurry, puts it on the bar in front of Duncan.

He turns around with the glass, and walks into the crowd of people, and he’s swaying as he walks, and he’s off-balance.

He downs the glass in front of everybody, chats with a few people, shares too-loud laughs, then wanders back to the bar.

“Another scotch and soda!” he barks. The bartender obliges.

The crowd of people part, and I see Dad walking toward us, barely concealed rage on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing, Duncan? You know you shouldn’t be drinking. You’ve got a fight in—”

“Hey, it’s a party!” Duncan shouts, then almost trips, and spills the drink all over himself. “Oh, fuck!” he bellows, meeting my eyes for a moment but not once losing character. He bursts out laughing, grips onto his knees, then stumbles forward, dropping the glass onto the floor. It shatters.

I have to look away to keep from laughing.

“God damn it,” Dad growls at Duncan. “You’re a fucking hot-shot MMA fighter and you can’t even hold your fucking liquor.”

“Hell yes I fucking can!” Duncan says, slurring his words.

Dad sighs. “Go home and sleep it off before you embarrass me even more.”

“I c-can’t drive,” he says. “Well, I probably could, but, you know, I-I don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“I’ll have Frank drive you home.”

Frank Marsh, dad’s loyal protector of twenty years, his number one. A large man who keeps a sawn-off shotgun dangling down his side, veiled by his customary trench coat.

“No!” Duncan says, throwing two clumsy hands onto Dad’s chest. “Frank’s your
bodyguard
! He can’t leave you unprotected, man.” He lowers his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “You’ve got enemies here. Let Dee take me.”

Dad looks to me, and it’s the hardest fucking thing to keep my face straight.

“Oh, to hell with it, take him to his apartment, Deidre.
Jesus H Christ
!”

Dad retreats back into the crowd, muttering strained apologies to everybody.

Duncan embellishes, throws his arm around my shoulder, leans his weight on me.

“Damn, you’re heavy,” I whisper at him, walking him toward the door, smiling politely at people who stare our way.

“I think I’m going to puke!” he announces to Frank as we pass him.

Once we get through the main doors, Duncan’s gait returns immediately to normal, with more than his usual amount of cocky swagger.

We meet eyes and laugh as we go get my checked coat and bag, exit the hotel. The night is cool, the air chilly, and I pull my coat tighter around me.

“Dad is going to be so pissed at you tomorrow,” I tell him.

“Fuck him.”

“And you ruined your suit.”

“Fuck it. I hate this thing, anyway.”

“But you look damn good in it.”

“Not as good as you look in that dress,” he says, picking me up. I yelp, try to squirm from his grip but can’t. He’s holding me above him, and he lowers me slowly, and I find myself astonished by his strength.

He dips me until my lips meet his, and I know that I shouldn’t, that we shouldn’t here, but I kiss him, and he me.

Anybody could see, it’s such a stupid risk to take. I don’t know how he makes me do these things.

“Come back to my place tonight, Dee.”

I push my lips together. “I can’t,” I whisper. “I’ve got to go into class early. It’s just easier if I sleep in my dorm room so I don’t have to deal with traffic in the morning. I don’t even have my car.”

“I’ll make it a night you’ll never forget,” he says, smirking. “You know I’m good for it. And I’ll take you to class tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I’ll forget this night already.”

“Of course you won’t.”

“Not because of
that
,” I say.

“Yes it was.”

“Don’t kid yourself. You’re not
that
good.”

“Yes I am.”

But I shake my head slowly at him. “I really need to go back to campus tonight. I’m sorry, you know I’d rather come home with you.”

“It’s alright,” he says.

“You could come by tomorrow. I have a break at lunch?”

“Bet your fucking ass I will. Will your roommate be out?”

“No!” I say, slapping his shoulder. “We can’t do that anymore, either. I think she suspects something already.”

“Just open a window.”

“Gross, it’s not because of the
smell
! You left your watch last time.”

“I was wondering where that went.”

“Yeah,” I say, widening my eyes at him. “See? You’re always getting me into trouble.”

“That’s what bad boys do to good girls.”

“Yeah, some good girl I am. Daughter of the most powerful mob boss in town, a man who kills people, sells drugs, and prostitutes women for a living.”

“You
are
good,” he says. He taps my chest. “Here. Right here. You’re a better person than I’ve ever known, and you’re
not
your father. His shit doesn’t roll down onto you.”

“Unfortunately… it does.”

“No.” He just states it. I wonder if it is naïve denial, or if he actually believes Dad’s reputation doesn’t extend onto me.

“It doesn’t make
you
bad,” he says. “Nobody should hold him against you.”

“They already do,” I whisper. “Come on. Which car are you driving?”

“Same one.”

“Still my mother’s? Why?”

“It reminds me of you. Does it bother you?”

“No,” I say truthfully. “It’s just not a very manly car.”

“Like I need a fucking car for that.”

He takes my hand, and together we walk away from the hotel.

“Wait, don’t you have a valet ticket?”

“I parked it myself.” He pulls out the keys, jingles them.

I snort. “Why would you do that? They valet park here.”

“I don’t need some special service to park my own fucking car.”

“They must have looked at you funny.”

“Well, they didn’t look twice.”

“You can be so weird sometimes.”

We find my mother’s car – the one she drove before she died – looking extremely conspicuous beside all the limos and Lambos. It’s just a two-door Volvo hatchback that she brought over with her from England when she moved to the States to do her west-to-east road trip.

I never knew Mom… never learned of the sentimental significance of the car. All I know is that she started in San Francisco, but never made it to the other coast. She met Dad in Chicago.

And, of course, Dad doesn’t talk about her. He just clams up and shuts up every time I bring her up. Or he gets grumpy and yells at me. So I don’t bring it up anymore. I’ve accepted that she’s just going to remain a mystery.

The car just collected dust until Duncan and I stole it one night from Dad’s garage for what amounted to a joyride.

“Why didn’t
you
want this car, Dee?”

“It’s got bad mileage,” I tell him matter-of-factly as we climb in. “Hey, I’m a college student, right?”

“Right. But really?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t feel right. It’s okay though, you drive it. I mean, I like the car… because it reminds me of the idea of a mother… my mother. But, you know, I can’t even remember what she looks like, the sound of her voice. I mean… I don’t know anything about her.”

“Alright,” he says. “I wasn’t pushing.”

“It’s fine.”

He starts the car, pulls us out, and we drive in silence for a while. Duncan was left on a church’s doorstep, grew up in a group home. He didn’t have parents… the closest thing were the social workers who went home at five. The live-in workers at the house were more like security guards than anything else, offering nothing but a jaded, harsh tongue, if even that.

And me… I never knew my mother, and Dad… well… he’s never really been a father, but that’s a long story.

So I forget about it, push the thoughts away even though they try to push back, try to invade my mind and threaten to ruin my mood even more.

To distract myself, I rub Duncan’s thigh as he drives me back to the college campus, study his sharp side profile.

“Thanks for getting me out of there, though. Seriously. You put on a real scene.”

“Don’t worry about it, Dee.”

“What did you mean by ‘just a little longer’?”

He looks at me. “Not yet, Dee. Soon, okay?”

“You know I don’t like it when you’re cryptic.”

“I know. Just… trust me.”

“Okay,” I say. “But I don’t like surprises. You know that.”

“I thought all girls liked surprises.”

“Well, I’m not like all girls. Surprises in my life have never been good. Walking downstairs to find some poor man gagged and getting beaten up by Dad and Frank while blood leaks from his eyes is not my idea of a fun surprise.”

“Wasn’t I a surprise?”

“The only good one,” I say.

“Just trust me, Dee. We’ve got a future, but it just needs a little more time.”

I blink, not really understanding what he means. It’s the first time I’ve ever really heard Duncan talk about
our
future. Together. Inclusive. A long-term plan.

When we get to the campus security checkpoint, I say bye to Duncan, give him a kiss, and then watch as he drives off.

And his words echo through my head:
We’ve got a future.

And I can’t help but to ask myself:
What future
?

We’re a secret couple. He’s my foster brother. Even if there’s nothing truly wrong with our relationship – we’re not blood relatives, and it started when we were both adults – Dad would never have it. He cares about his reputation too much, about what the other families might say.

So
what
future, exactly?

We can’t hide forever.

It’s got to end sooner or later. It’s a train in the night bearing down on us, and we won’t know it’s about to hit us until we hear the blare of the horn, and feel the shaking of the rails, and it’s all too late.