Degradation
Page 72

“Yes.”
“Sandy, got any xanax?” she asked, meaning it to be a joke.
“In my luggage, ma'am,” Sanders responded. She was shocked for a second, and then she laughed.
“Better be careful, Sandy, or I'll fall in love with you,” she teased, heading in to the kitchen.
Apparently it wasn't too early for some people, as she caught her mother spiking her coffee with brandy. Ellie wandered in a couple minutes later, not making eye contact with anyone. Robert had come home late the night before, and though his jaw was wired shut, he'd had plenty to say. His mumbled rants could be heard all over the house. He had gone crying to Tate's father. She could just imagine what she was in for that day.
She didn't have to wait long.
“Tatum! My office, now, please,” her father's voice barked out. She took a deep breath and followed him in to the dark room.
“Yes?” she asked, standing in front of his desk.
“What are you doing with your life?” he demanded. She blinked a couple times.
“Working.”
“What do you do?”
“I'm a bartender, downtown.”
“Disgraceful.”
She started to get angry.
“Well, I had to do something, Daddy. No college degree, no money, no references. Pickings were slim. I'm very good at it, everyone knows that Tatum O'Shea is the best bartender in all of Boston,” she said in a sweet voice, sarcasm dripping from her words.
“Don't blame any of that on me. You did it to yourself. Shameless girl,” he grumbled.
“No. I was a young girl, stupid, confused, thoughtless; you never even asked me what happened. You just went by Ellie's word, like always,” Tate pointed out.
“So you didn't have an affair with him!?” he shouted. She almost backed away, but then she remembered – he wasn't a part of her life. He had no power over her.
“No, I didn't have an affair with him. It was just one night, just sex,” she replied bluntly.
“How dare you talk to me like that!”
“You asked.”
“You don't feel any regret, do you!?” her father demanded. “Not a single goddamn regret. You ruined Ellie's chance for a decent marriage, and you don't even care.”
“Is this over? I have things I could be doing,” Tate snapped back.
“Don't you take that tone of voice with me, young lady,” he warned her.
“I'll use whatever tone I fucking want,” she said back. He jumped up from his chair.
“I knew this was a bad idea. I told that man that no good could come of you, that he should just turn his back on you. You are a waste of time, Tatum. I don't know why I ever bothered with you,” he told her. She sucked in a gasp.
“The feeling is entirely mutual,” she replied, and before her father could respond, she swept from the room.
She was actually trembling as she stomped up the stairs. She stood in her room for a while, but she didn't want anything in there. Didn't care about her new clothing. She walked down to Ellie's room and didn't even bother to knock, just burst inside. Robert was laying on the bed and Ellie was standing next to him. Both gasped at her entrance.
“What are you doing!?” Ellie asked, startled by the brash entrance.
“I'm getting the fuck out of here. Come with me,” Tate said quickly. Robert sat up, shaking his head and mumbling something.
“Tate, I know you don't -,” Ellie started, but Tate shook her head.
“Last chance. Come with me,” she offered again.
There was silence, and then Ellie's eyes flicked to her husband. He shook his head again and Ellie sighed, turning back towards her sister. Tate nodded and walked out of the room. At least the going would be a lot quicker now. She breezed through the house, ignoring Jameson when he called out to her. She was halfway to the guest house when Sanders caught up to her.
“Can I help you with anything, Ms. O'Shea?” he asked quickly, jogging up to her side.
“Nope, Sandy, I'm good,” she replied, walking through the guest house front door.
“Alright. Are you looking for something?” he asked again while she stood there, her eyes roaming over the entry way.
“Keys.”
“Keys to what, may I ask?”
“The car.”
“Our car?”
“That's the one.”
“I'm sorry,” Sanders tried again. “Did you want to go somewhere? I'd be happy to drive you.”
“That's okay. I actually do know how to drive, you know, and where I want to go takes a while,” she told him, walking up to a small desk and pulling the drawers open, rummaging around in them.
“I don't mind a long drive. I would be very happy to take you anywhere,” he assured her. She glanced at him.
“Boston. I would like you to drive me to Boston,” she said plainly. He hesitated, and then nodded.
“Alright, ma'am. If you'll wait right here, I'll bring the car around,” Sanders said, and then took off back out the door.
Tate was a little stunned for a minute, and wondered if he was joking. But Sanders never joked, so she sat down on a decorative stool. She was too tired to stand anymore. It was taking every muscle she had to keep herself upright. She wanted to fold in on herself.
Waste of time.
“So we're leaving?” Jameson's voice was soft in the doorway. She laughed, not bothering to lift her head.