Having received the backhanded blow from my father, I staggered to the side, hand out to catch my fall however that might happen, eyes blinking in an effort to regain focus taken away by surprise and pain.
I hadn’t succeeded before the next blow came. This one not a backhand but an open-handed slap across my cheek that cracked hideously through the room, the sound exploding in my brain.
I careened from that blow only to sustain the next one, another slap, followed by another. But that one was a closed-fist crushing punch that landed right on my temple.
Fighting to remain conscious but unable to remain standing, I fell to the side. Slamming into my hand on the silk carpet, my wrist taking all my weight, the throb of pain radiating up my arm, my hip hitting next.
My other hand to my face, cowering away from the possibility of another blow, I heard Georgia cry, “Dad! Stop with the face!”
“Fuck, you fucking stupid, goddamned fucking bitch!” my father shouted, on the second “fucking” grabbing hold of my hair in a painful grip and yanking back.
I made a mew of pain, my eyes opening to see his red livid face inches from mine.
“What the fuck’s the matter with you, you stupid, fucking bitch?” he asked in an enraged shout, his spittle landing on my face. “Christ! How have you not learned? It’s simple,” he yanked my hair with the last word and then again with each successive one, “you…do…as…you’re…told.”
My head jerking with each tug, my neck stretched taut in a reflexive effort to fight the jolts and beginning to ache, my scalp in agony, I tried to gather a single thought.
All I could do was notice that my sister was approaching.
I also vaguely noticed Tommy was there, not too far away.
And incidentally—so Tommy—not intervening.
“Dad, back off,” Georgia said in a calming voice.
Dad glared at me a moment before he yanked my hair one last time, like he was pushing me away from him, before he let me go and straightened.
I swayed with the wrench, flinching against the pain, and righted myself. But I didn’t move further because my father didn’t shift away and both Georgia and he were fencing me in.
Hazily, my attention drifted to my sister.
“Dustin Culver, Liv,” she said.
“What?” I whispered, that being the absolute last thing I expected her to say, not thinking I actually heard her say it and wondering if I was unconscious and hallucinating.
“Told you to date him, sis. Not break up with the fucker,” she stated.
I blinked up at her.
“The man’s running for state senate next term,” my father spat, and I looked to him. “Way he looks. Money he’s got. Brain in his head. His pedigree. His education. His ambition. He’ll be in Washington in four years, if he doesn’t run for governor. He could even fuckin’ make a play for the White House. That kinda future ahead of him, you get him addicted to your snatch, leadin’ him around by his dick, what’s that do for the Shades?”
I wasn’t certain I was hearing what I thought I was hearing.
“You wanted me…” I shook my head. “What?”
“Boy got your stepfather out of some shit, because your stepfather is more of a stupid fuck than you are,” Dad bit out. “Payback, Culver saw you out to dinner with your mother, he wanted a fixup. Your mother saw the benefits of such a union. She chatted with your sister, your sister chatted with me. We all agreed. You see him. You fuck him. You get him wrapped around your finger, you own him,” he jerked his thumb at himself, “then I own him.”
I felt something coming off of Georgia, it was not nice, and since I didn’t need more not nice in the present situation, my gaze darted quickly to her only to see her aiming a sour look at our father.
She rearranged her face when she noticed my attention and looked down at me.
“Babe, getting you out of this warehouse? Getting you clean? Next young, handsome, hotshot Colorado senator sent to Washington is not gonna put a ring on your finger, you’re managing a crew of drug dealers.”
Me moving offices hardly made me clean.
“I’m still a Shade,” I pointed out hesitantly.
“No Shade has direct ties to anything…” she hesitated before her lips quirked and she finished, “shady. Not anymore.”
Her sister on the floor at her feet having been on the receiving end of four vicious blows from the father we shared, I had no idea how she could find anything amusing.
Then again, as it sunk in that they were whoring me out to Dustin Culver, something she was clearly in on, maybe I did have an idea.
I scooted back several inches, and with as much grace as I could muster, cradling my tender wrist in my other hand, doing my best to ignore the pain burning in my face, I gained my feet. I then shifted away farther, my eyes glancing from my father to my sister to Tommy, doing this also noting Gill was across the room, shoulder leaned against the wall, face blank, watching.
They were all in on it.
My face stinging and I could feel it swelling, I avoided my father’s eyes and looked at my sister.
“So I don’t manage a crew of dealers. Now I’m a whore?”
Georgia caught herself mid-eye roll at what she clearly considered my dramatics and threw out a low hand. “He’s not ugly or fat or stupid. How tough would it be?”
I straightened my shoulders and held her gaze. “Maybe not tough but did it occur to you to explain your plans to me rather than telling me what I was to do without me really understanding why you wanted me to do it?”
I hadn’t succeeded before the next blow came. This one not a backhand but an open-handed slap across my cheek that cracked hideously through the room, the sound exploding in my brain.
I careened from that blow only to sustain the next one, another slap, followed by another. But that one was a closed-fist crushing punch that landed right on my temple.
Fighting to remain conscious but unable to remain standing, I fell to the side. Slamming into my hand on the silk carpet, my wrist taking all my weight, the throb of pain radiating up my arm, my hip hitting next.
My other hand to my face, cowering away from the possibility of another blow, I heard Georgia cry, “Dad! Stop with the face!”
“Fuck, you fucking stupid, goddamned fucking bitch!” my father shouted, on the second “fucking” grabbing hold of my hair in a painful grip and yanking back.
I made a mew of pain, my eyes opening to see his red livid face inches from mine.
“What the fuck’s the matter with you, you stupid, fucking bitch?” he asked in an enraged shout, his spittle landing on my face. “Christ! How have you not learned? It’s simple,” he yanked my hair with the last word and then again with each successive one, “you…do…as…you’re…told.”
My head jerking with each tug, my neck stretched taut in a reflexive effort to fight the jolts and beginning to ache, my scalp in agony, I tried to gather a single thought.
All I could do was notice that my sister was approaching.
I also vaguely noticed Tommy was there, not too far away.
And incidentally—so Tommy—not intervening.
“Dad, back off,” Georgia said in a calming voice.
Dad glared at me a moment before he yanked my hair one last time, like he was pushing me away from him, before he let me go and straightened.
I swayed with the wrench, flinching against the pain, and righted myself. But I didn’t move further because my father didn’t shift away and both Georgia and he were fencing me in.
Hazily, my attention drifted to my sister.
“Dustin Culver, Liv,” she said.
“What?” I whispered, that being the absolute last thing I expected her to say, not thinking I actually heard her say it and wondering if I was unconscious and hallucinating.
“Told you to date him, sis. Not break up with the fucker,” she stated.
I blinked up at her.
“The man’s running for state senate next term,” my father spat, and I looked to him. “Way he looks. Money he’s got. Brain in his head. His pedigree. His education. His ambition. He’ll be in Washington in four years, if he doesn’t run for governor. He could even fuckin’ make a play for the White House. That kinda future ahead of him, you get him addicted to your snatch, leadin’ him around by his dick, what’s that do for the Shades?”
I wasn’t certain I was hearing what I thought I was hearing.
“You wanted me…” I shook my head. “What?”
“Boy got your stepfather out of some shit, because your stepfather is more of a stupid fuck than you are,” Dad bit out. “Payback, Culver saw you out to dinner with your mother, he wanted a fixup. Your mother saw the benefits of such a union. She chatted with your sister, your sister chatted with me. We all agreed. You see him. You fuck him. You get him wrapped around your finger, you own him,” he jerked his thumb at himself, “then I own him.”
I felt something coming off of Georgia, it was not nice, and since I didn’t need more not nice in the present situation, my gaze darted quickly to her only to see her aiming a sour look at our father.
She rearranged her face when she noticed my attention and looked down at me.
“Babe, getting you out of this warehouse? Getting you clean? Next young, handsome, hotshot Colorado senator sent to Washington is not gonna put a ring on your finger, you’re managing a crew of drug dealers.”
Me moving offices hardly made me clean.
“I’m still a Shade,” I pointed out hesitantly.
“No Shade has direct ties to anything…” she hesitated before her lips quirked and she finished, “shady. Not anymore.”
Her sister on the floor at her feet having been on the receiving end of four vicious blows from the father we shared, I had no idea how she could find anything amusing.
Then again, as it sunk in that they were whoring me out to Dustin Culver, something she was clearly in on, maybe I did have an idea.
I scooted back several inches, and with as much grace as I could muster, cradling my tender wrist in my other hand, doing my best to ignore the pain burning in my face, I gained my feet. I then shifted away farther, my eyes glancing from my father to my sister to Tommy, doing this also noting Gill was across the room, shoulder leaned against the wall, face blank, watching.
They were all in on it.
My face stinging and I could feel it swelling, I avoided my father’s eyes and looked at my sister.
“So I don’t manage a crew of dealers. Now I’m a whore?”
Georgia caught herself mid-eye roll at what she clearly considered my dramatics and threw out a low hand. “He’s not ugly or fat or stupid. How tough would it be?”
I straightened my shoulders and held her gaze. “Maybe not tough but did it occur to you to explain your plans to me rather than telling me what I was to do without me really understanding why you wanted me to do it?”
