“She needed it! She WANTED it!” he screams in my face, throwing a sudden fist into the door. It swings back from the impact, and he slaps it again with his open palm, crying out like an injured animal.
“Your daughter begged for it! Other than the last time, it was always with her consent. She encouraged me. Lured me in. A seductive little siren, a Lolita with big, blue eyes. You’ve already let her down, and I was there to pick up the pieces and guide her through this world. I stepped up when you stepped down.” It is his turn to point at me, spitting in my face with every word that comes out of his mouth.
“I care for her. I worry about her. I moved schools for her. You think I like dealing with teenagers? With an entitled, untalented football team? You’re wrong. I did this for your daughter. I stayed single—for your daughter. I live in this awful, plastic town—for your daughter. Don’t you come knocking on my door lecturing me about morals. Daria feels half-orphaned because of you. I just became who she needed me to be. The only person in her life to care for her enough to give her the discipline she craved. And the spanking?” He stops, out of breath. His chest rises and falls. He is manic. On the edge of falling apart. He wipes sweat from his brow. “When I was young, I got spanked, a lot. It corrected my ways when I strayed from God’s word. And look at me now.” He gestures toward his body with his hand. “In one piece.”
For now, bastard.
I take a step back, steadying my breath. His words cut me like a knife, but what I’m about to do is going to split him in half. I clutch the pearls on my neck, pushing the buttoned-up pale baby blue shirt down to reveal a little recording device clipped to the shoulder strap of my bra. Would this hold up in court? Who the hell knows? All I know is that Prichard is not dumb enough to find out.
“My bad, Mr. Prichard, this makes everything you did okay. I just hope the authorities will find your version of things sufficient, as well.”
His eyes drop to the recording device, and I know this is my in. I have all the evidence in the world to bring him down now. A blatant admission. But I don’t want the messy way out. I don’t want to drag my daughter through court. I want his quiet, silent defeat. Even though nothing brings me more pain than to know he is about to get away with this.
There can’t be a trial.
This can’t go public.
Daria has suffered enough.
“Name your price,” he growls, his eyes darkening.
“Quite simply: your job, your location, and your word. I don’t want you anywhere near kids or teenagers again, Mr. Prichard, and you’re about to sign on it.”
I want to be your everything
Other than one thing
Your past
I thrust the vodka bottle into my glove compartment and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
Great. I’m turning into fucking Rhett. I’ve been avoiding the Followhill mansion since breaking shit off with Daria except for the times I needed to sleep, shit, and shower, and even though I’m jumping through hoops trying not to bump into Daria and Via, every time I do, it feels like they cut me down the middle, dragging my two halves in opposite directions.
Throwing the driver’s door open, I zigzag my way toward the snake pit. It’s too early for the fights, but people are already milling on the bleachers, passing beers, vapes, and cigarettes. I find Gus underneath said bleachers, reading through statistics of fighters, which he writes down with a Sharpie on a clipboard. He licks his finger and flips a page when I approach him, not even looking up.
“Scully.”
“Are we gonna make up and out, or are you going to tell me why the fuck you invited me here?” I hiccup, bracing myself on the side of the blue bleacher we are standing underneath.
Yesterday, Adriana called me and asked if we could meet at the park. Stressed that it was urgent. I said yes because I thought it had something to do with my stepdad. He’s a notorious shit-stirrer in my old neighborhood. In the background, I heard Gus talking, almost whispering, but I chalked it up to maybe her serving him at Lenny’s. Only when I parted ways with Addy and Harper at the park, in which she told me Harper might be running a fever (she wasn’t) did I remember that Addy had taken off to focus on school last week.
Now I’m interested to know just how deep Gus thrust himself into my life without my knowledge. Because if he’s playing Addy and messed around with my sister, who knows what else he touched without permission?
Not Daria, for his fucking sake.
“Aw.” Gus tosses his clipboard to the ground, adjusting his ball cap backward because apparently, he just doesn’t look douchey enough. “Someone’s being a bad sport.”
“Spit it out,” I snarl.
“I just wanted to talk.” He lifts his hands in surrender.
“I have nothing to say to you, other than your team sucks, but actions speak louder than words, so I’ll just remind you of that on the field next week.”
“About that.” Gus taps his mouth with his finger, making a show of it. “I see your little girlfriend didn’t bring you up to speed on our latest convo.”
I rub my jaw.
“Adriana tries to forget you exist. She hates you like the rest of us.”
“Nah. The one you actually give a shit about.”
Daria.
My jaw clenches, and I’m ready to fuck his face up if he so much as breathes in her direction. She’s going through enough—partly because of my miserable ass—and doesn’t need him on her case.
“Leave her out of our beef, or you’ll have a much bigger problem than getting your ass kicked next Friday.” My voice turns to steel, and any traces of the booze leave my system. I’m wide-awake and sober now.
“Too late, lover boy. I got my hands on her journal. Fascinating shit.” He whistles, fanning his face. “This thing’ll blow up the school when it comes out. Spanked and humiliated by her principal in his office like in a bad porn flick, dicked by you in a forest, and basically shitting all over your sister’s and her mom’s dreams. Daria’s been good at being a bad girl these past four years.”
Principal Prichard spanked her? The words burn on my skin, and all I see is red. He touched her. No, worse—he hurt her. Under my fucking watch.
Anger clogs up my veins and settles in my stomach. I am on the verge of detonating under the bleachers all over Gus.
Taking a step toward him, I wrap my fingers around his throat. I can choke him to death in cold blood right now and not even regret it tomorrow morning. The thought scares me because it is real. I was livid when I found out he was messing around with my sister, but apparently, the two parts Via and Daria split me in aren’t that even after all. Daria’s chunk is bigger. I care about her more.
“If this shit comes out…”
Gus tries to swallow without success, producing a sound that’s between a cackle and a gag. My hold on his meaty neck is so firm, I can see his blue veins popping out from between my fingers. His eyes turn red as his blood vessels begin to burst.
“What do you think is going to happen if you fuck me up, Scully? That’s right. Whoever keeps the journal for me is going to print it out and give it to anyone who’s willing to read it. And trust me—people’ll line up for your girlfriend’s shit.”