I've ignored her long enough that I'm confident that her eyes aren't on my face anymore. I cut my gaze to her in the mirror. She's staring at the way the pants fit my ass.
I shrug.
“It'll do.”
She looks up, realizes I've caught her, and her eyes narrow. I'm tempted to smirk at her, so she's sure it's my point, but I'd rather make her think.
So I turn to her with a bored expression and say, “What's next? Let's get this over with, so I can hear about a bunch of shit I don't want to know.”
She has a mask, too, one that coolly slides into place now. It's comprised mostly of bitch.
“Oh, have you decided to stop acting like a baby?” she asks, lifting one eyebrow.
I hold out my arms, palms up in a dramatic shrug, and say, “I thought you wanted a puppy.”
Her lips press together in a red line, and her eyes flatten. Restraint is not something I remember her for, and it seems I'm not the only one who has changed. Whatever thoughts just rapid-fired in her brain did not come out of her mouth. It might be the most amazing transformation I've ever seen. Or it might be the first time she has ever shut the fuck up in favor of talking.
She takes a leather belt off a nearby hook and hands it to me. She says, “Now that I know your sizes and cuts, I'll have someone handle it. You can wear that out of the store, I'll tell the cashier to charge my account. By all means, let's get to the shit you need to know if you want to survive.”
Then she turns on her giant heel and stalks away.
I turn back toward the mirror, staring at the character she has created. Or is it an old character she tried to recreate?
Bitch. Walking away is my gig.
Chapter 7 Florida Queen
Isaiah
Mona might have mentioned we're meeting Daddy on his yacht. She didn't, and now we're skipping away from the marina in a speedboat to where the Florida Queen is anchored. The wind feels good harassing the new clothes, but I'd rather jump over the edge at current speed, and break a few bones, than board the yacht.
As I watch the water race by, the option loses luster. Then I'd have to do whatever is to come with broken bones. Maybe more than the escape attempt would cause, once they got through with me – after they dragged me out of the water.
Beside me, Mona is holding her hat down, looking for all the world like some Hollywood starlet. Her oversized sunglasses hide most of her expression, and I'm not interested enough to investigate. I'd imagine she's feeling smug, but I think she probably spends most of her time doing that.
The man I'm about to see is the one who turned me out six years ago. It wasn't his fault, not really. He did the right thing, but he based his decision on a lie. In the end, I was just a scapegoat for his darling angel, and I never said a word.
I didn't expose her. I could have, it would have been easy. The bitterness of her betrayal was enough to want to walk away. It worked well enough when it was in the past. The problem now is that he still thinks I'm the one who fucked up.
I can still see her feigning horror and surprise when Daddy brought his verdict down on me. I've managed not to think about that day in a long damn time. Now it feels close to the surface. It was her pleas that kept him from killing me, her claims that she loved me, which in retrospect was probably never true. I guess it was her way of thanking me for not blowing her world out of the water.
I glance at Mona again. I wonder if she's considered that I might not care to let the truth slip. I'm not exactly chivalrous these days. Maybe she thinks her precious daddy would never believe me. I think that when it comes down to his business and his hide, there's a line that even she can’t cross. We may yet see.
She catches me watching her, and smiles. Without seeing her eyes, one could almost believe the gesture holds no poison. Not me. I smile back, and hers catches. I look away, to the quickly approaching ship.
I don't have any weapons, but I'm patted down anyway when we board. Mona is not.
The boat rocks softly as we stroll through a lobby. I suddenly wish it were storming, so it would actually feel like we're on a ship. This luxury vessel is too much for me. Give me crab cages and cast nets, sea birds screeching overhead, tying knots, shooting sharks. There was a time I thought I wanted this kind of opulence. Once I left it all behind, I never did miss it.
My nerves are wound in a tight coil around my internal organs. There's no way to make this not suck, and just now, that pisses me off – more than I'm already pissed that I'm just a walking puppet. I'm not one to be inclined to violence, but this family breeds it in me at an unhealthy rate.
Mona's father is out on the deck, sitting beneath a huge umbrella, at a round glass table. My steps slow as we approach, and as they do, a deep, cold hatred rears its head. I thought I was prepared for it, but my mouth goes dry, and my fingers ball against my palms.
He's in his late fifties, the same meticulous tan as his daughter, and a full head of hair
