Page 28 of Silver Edge
I didn’t stop to think; I flooded the room with my confession before I lost my nerve. “My foster mother caught us one day and tossed me out onto the streets. That’s when I ended up under a bridge, strung out on Oxy. I guess I got what I deserved.”
Drake remained perfectly still, like a work of art from Michelangelo. “How old were you?” he said, with a low, deliberate voice.
“When I left? Seventeen.”
“How old were you when you were first with him?”
“Fifteen. Why?” I quirked my head at him, daring to search his face for some sign of a reaction, but his mouth, lips, eyes, cheeks remained ice-sculpture frozen.
“When you were fifteen, did you have trouble with people touching you? Not in a sexual way, but just a handshake or a slap on the shoulder?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. At least, I think that was the noise that swooshed from my lips. It sounded more like a zebra in labor. “Are you kidding? I ended up suspended from school more times than I can remember for fighting. Every time someone even bumped into me, I’d lose it. I’m a delinquent, according to my principal, teachers, and foster mother, but she was a bitch.”
“So, you voluntarily had intercourse with your foster father even though you didn’t like people touching you?”
Still, not one line creased his face. My nerves began to rapid-fire slugs into my internal organs. “Yes, but he helped me with that. You see, that’s how it all started. He gave me some pot to make me chill one time, and we figured out it helped. It sort of numbed my senses. A few months later, he brought some more home and while we got high he touched me everywhere. Next thing I knew, we had sex, and I didn’t want to peel my skin off halfway through. It was quick, so it worked for me.”
Drake’s jaw twitched, the first indication of life beyond the marble facade.
“Go ahead and hate me. I don’t blame you. After a while, the pot didn’t work, so he brought home pills, then coke, then whatever he could get his hands on. Heck, I can’t even remember all the drugs we tried. One night, we were both so strung out we never heard my foster mother come home. She went nuts. I don’t remember much, but the next morning I woke up facedown by a sewer with a gash in my shoulder and slashes across my back. I was in a lot of pain, so I went to a friend’s house and got wacked out of my mind. The rest of that year was more of the same. As long as I had drugs I could deal.”
Drake’s knuckle popped and I saw his fingers clutching his legs in a vice grip. “You don’t see anything wrong with a grown man having sex with a minor? A girl he was supposed to be protecting?”
I shrugged, the only thing I could manage with my insides twisting, turning, twirling with unease. Drug-hazed images of half-naked bodies, beatings, and blood combusted in my brain. At that moment, I’d do anything to make them fade back into the compartment where they’d been stored since I got sober. “So, you said you had your own dark past to share? Your turn. Spill it.”
Drake’s hands slid from his legs and he balled one into a fist in front of him and clasped it with the other hand. Each knuckle popped then he did the same to the other hand.
We sat in silence once more.
One.
Two.
Ten beats sounded in my ears.
He cast his gaze in my direction and his lips pressed tight before he let out a loud, long breath through his nose and unfurled his fingers. “A few years ago, I was a real dick. You may have made mistakes in your life, but you didn’t know any better. I did. In college, I felt like I was something special and bagged a different girl every night, broke hearts without a thought. I was scum, but I didn’t care. I went to an Ivy League school, graduated, and secured an insanely high-paying job thanks to my dad’s connections in the industry. I bought expensive cars, dated celebrities, socialites, and anyone else that would help me climb the corporate ladder. Trust me when I say I had no morals at all.”
He sighed and leaned back, stretching his strong legs out in front of him. His hands clamped behind his head and his gaze traveled along the tile ceiling as if searching for the spot I’d analyzed a few minutes before. “On opening night of this club I was supposed to be here. You see, this wasn’t my club, it was my brother’s, and I was supposed to be here to support him. He’d finally gotten his dream, and instead, I went to a bar, got drunk, and took a girl home. I can’t even tell you her name. The fact that I had a girlfriend didn’t make a difference to me at all. The next morning, I got the call that my entire family was killed in a car wreck by a drunk driver leaving the club.”
I reached out but stopped myself. I wasn’t sure how to console someone. I’d never wanted to console someone before. My arm did this awkward dance in the air before I did one of those I’m-gonna-put-my-arm-around-you movie theater moves then quickly returned my hands to my lap. “That wasn’t your fault, though.”
“No, but it could’ve been. I was driving drunk that night and hit a tree. I left the scene to go sober up. When I got the call, all I could think of was that I was the one who killed my family. After I spoke to the police, I knew it wasn’t my car, but that didn’t matter. The next week, I quit my job and came here. I’ve been working on this place, trying to make my brother’s dream a reality, but I lack his vision, his talent.”
A twinkle of hope entered my heart. He’d never want to touch me again, but he might still need me to help him. This wasn’t about me, though. “Is this what you want? Do you really want Bands to work, or are you doing it out of guilt? That’s what Barbie accused you of that day, right?”
“Yeah, Margo has tried to convince me this was the wrong choice since I made it. I don’t know if it’s guilt, but for the first time in over a year I’m excited about the club. The way you look at this place is the way my brother once did. Seeing you smile or tap your foot to the music does something to me. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s good.”
I picked at a chipped fingernail and thought about the possibilities. “If you want Bands to work, I want to help. But if you don’t want me around, I understand.”
Drake leaned forward slowly until he knelt in front of me. He lifted his hands to my knee level, but didn’t touch me. “May I?”
I nodded and braced myself for his touch. This time, his hands cupped my fingers with the perfect amount of pressure, and I relaxed. Nothing too soft, and not irritating like a bug crawling up my arm, or hard like a car rolling over my foot.
“You see yourself in this dark way, but you haven’t had it easy. Despite everything you’ve been through, you left a city where you had a person who offered you protection to make it on your own. With no money, no phone, living in an abandoned warehouse, you’ve made it. I’m in awe of you. You’re like no other woman I’ve ever known.”
I smiled. “It sounds like you’ve known many.”
His soft laugh filled the room. “Yes, but none like you.” He ran his thumb over my skin and I gasped, but it felt amazing. “Can I ask you something?”
