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She tossed the magazine on his lap. “How many times have you told me that you don’t like pornography? That you liked women to be wholesome?”
Mac, his cheeks flushed, refused to meet her eyes. Instead, he looked ahead, at the house. The magazine teetered from where it had landed on his lap and fell to the floor board.
“Was it a lie?”
He didn’t answer her.
She jumped out of the truck. “You can forget about coming over tonight. I’d rather be alone than with someone who lies to me.”
She slammed the door and marched to her front door, wondering what else in her life would go wrong.
***
BECKY SMELLED LIKE raspberries. Raspberry-scented lotion she probably bought during her and Seacrest’s hitchhiking escapade. But Haley was hesitant to lecture her sister. She didn’t want Becky to start spending even more time away from the house, like she had with Sadie for the first seven months after their father had passed. If she did that, then Haley wouldn’t have a clue what her sister was doing. And her being out with Seacrest concerned her much more than when she was at home with her.
Becky now lay next to Haley in her twin-sized bed. A floor fan oscillated in front of them, blowing tepid air in their faces. Sasha lay sleeping on top of a Teletubbies sleeping bag on the floor, his tiny jaw relaxed, his mouth opened in a perfect half moon. Haley felt sorry for the little boy. He spent much more time at their house than his own. His mother, Kiki, was a young stripper and meth addict who spent much more time at the Cat Shack with her male customers than she did with him. And although Becky was irresponsible, between she and Haley, he got much better care at their house than with Kiki in their trailer in Trespass Gardens.
Rubbing her temples, Haley tried to push the argument she’d just had with Mac to the back of her head. She wasn’t ready to deal with it.
“I saw Tyler Jeffries today,” Haley said.
Becky’s jaw dropped. “You did? Where?”
“Luke’s.”
Becky screwed up her face. “That—” she started, then stopped, seeming to be at a loss for the appropriate word. “. . . asshole murderer,” she said finally. The corners of her mouth were pulled down but she looked to be more deeply in thought than upset.
The two lay quietly, listening to the steady click of the fan as it rotated.
“Will Mama ever get better?” Becky finally asked, her face pressed into a pillow, the brown freckles sprinkled across the ridge of her nose contrasting against her fair skin.
“She’ll be okay,” Haley answered, relieved and more than a little surprised that her sister had finally mentioned their mother. It was one of the first times since the accident.
“When? When will she get better?”
Haley propped herself up with her elbow. “I’m not sure.”
“It’s been forever and a day,” Becky complained. “And she acts like she doesn’t know us anymore. How can she do that to us?”
She was angry. Probably as angry as Haley was.
“She’s not thinking clearly, Beck. She’s really, really depressed.”
Becky sighed loudly, then lay on her stomach and crossed her ankles. A brown tendril hung against her milky forehead. ”Can we do anything? Anything Dr. Broussard can’t do?”
“You can go in and talk to her sometimes, you know,” Haley said.
Becky shook her head, staring off into middle space. “I don’t like seeing her like that. I don’t like going into that smelly room and seeing her look so sick in the head.” Becky glanced at her. “Would she do something stupid? Like hurt herself?”
“Oh God, no,” Haley said quickly, then shivered. She didn’t want to think of the possibility. Not now. Her mind desperately needed some peace and quiet.
“How’s Sadie?” she asked. “I haven’t seen her around lately.”
“Don’t know. We’re not friends anymore.”
“What?”
“I like Seacrest better and besides she hates Sadie.”
“But ya’ll have been friends forever, Beck.”
Becky shrugged. “Isn’t she pretty? Seacrest, I mean?”
Haley thought about the question. Yeah, she was beyond pretty. Stu
Becky curled her brown tendrils around a chubby finger and looked thoughtful. “Do you think I’m pretty?”
Haley knew that neither she nor her sister would ever grace the cover of a magazine. They didn’t have the type of beauty that Tiffany, Erica or even Seacrest possessed. But that didn’t mean that they weren’t attractive. “Of course,” she answered. “You’re beautiful, inside and out.”
“But I’m nothing compared to Seacrest. Even her name’s crazy cool.” She pursed her lips and grew quiet for a moment. “There’s this boy, Richard. I like him, but I think he’s going to like her more than me. Why wouldn’t he? She’s really pretty and she already has tits. I would, too.” She sighed. “Anyone would.”
Haley wanted to kiss her sister and hold her close. Just like her, she knew Becky was lonely and mixed up, and as confused and scared as she’d ever been.
“No, I think Seacrest’s nothing compared to you. Richard would be crazy to ever pick her over you. You’re smarter and classier. Plus, I think her name’s kinda stupid.”
Becky looked doubtful. “You’re not saying that just because you’re my sister?”
“Nope, cross my heart.”
Becky’s eyes grew softer. “Do you still miss Dad?”
“Yeah, I’ll always miss Dad.”
“Yeah, me too,” Becky whispered. “And Tiff?”
“Yeah, I miss her, too,” Haley said.
“Think she’s dead? If she wasn’t, don’t you think she would have called us?”
Haley swallowed and tears filled her eyes. She reached for the pendant around her neck and stroked it. “Yeah, I do, Beck. . . I think she is.”
Chapter 26
THE ANDERSON FAMILY sat in the living room: Kelsey in a chair, Rachel on the loveseat, Tom on the couch, and little Tommy stretched out on the floor.
“But I’ve seen that one already,” Kelsey complained. “Let’s watch the other one.”
“It’s not my problem you’ve seen everything!” Tommy shouted back, a DVD in his hands.
“Quit shouting,” Rachel said, trying to keep her voice even, not to snap. She was tense. Tiffany still hadn’t shown up and it had everyone at the college talking about her and Tom. About their marriage. Something others had no business discussing.
She began filing her nails, although she had filed them too short just the day before. The faint music of wind chimes sounded out back, the metal rods tapping against each other in the stifling darkness. She glanced out the window behind the television, at the night outside.
Tom had insisted that they not cover the window that extended from the floor to the twenty-foot ceiling, that there was no need to since it backed into the privacy of the woods. But being in the living room at night with the window uncovered made her feel uneasy, exposed, especially now with the girl missing and a potential murderer on the loose.
“She’s not going to get her way again, is she?” Tommy asked, twisting around to look at his mother.
“We’ll watch the one nobody has seen,” Tom Senior said. “Put it in, Tommy.”
With a huff, Tommy snatched the blue DVD case from the coffee table.
“Ha-ha,” Kelsey gloated under her breath.
“Kelsey, stop!” Rachel scolded, her tone harsher than she’d intended. “Your father made a decision. Now, live with it.”
“Who’s shouting now?” Kelsey said, sarcastically.
Tom glared at her. “Kelsey, don't talk to your mother that way.”
“Oh, please,” Kelsey replied.
Rachel bit her tongue. It was family night. She’d let this one go and choose her battles wisely. Besides, it felt nice to have Tom return early from San Francisco. Maybe that meant something?