The glint of Gypsy’s cross caught her eye. Maggie was wearing it.
She’s not one of us.
Suddenly, a scream was clawing up her windpipe. Enraged. Scorned. You’re supposed to love me, she thought. You aren’t supposed to be like him, not like my dad.
Scumbag Lawyer Richard was still standing motionless in the hall, staring into the darkness of the living room. He was trying to see through the shadows that veiled the familiar. The wait was agonizing, the pause lasting an eternity. Avis wanted him to hurry up and flip on the light. At least then she could bolt from her spot and throw herself at her former friend. She wanted to tear Maggie’s hair out by the fistful and shove it down her throat. I’m carrying his baby, you bitch!
Finally, Richard moved.
The living room lit up in a blaze of light.
For a second, Avis couldn’t see.
The darkness makes us blind.
When Avis finally regained her vision, she was distracted by how young Richard looked—maybe a little older than herself, tall and handsome in a rumpled suit. Nothing like her father.
Richard’s gaze was frozen on the stack of furniture, as though too preoccupied to see the people standing static in his living room and kitchen. When his attention finally shifted, he looked right at Avis.
Her stomach dropped.
“Who the fuck are you?” His inquiry seemed to be exclusively pointed at her.
Gasping, she opened her mouth to speak.
Nobody. I’m worthless. I’ve never been anybody and I never will be. I’ll never belong anywhere. Not here, not there, not like you and Claire.
Richard shifted his weight to the left, toward a black telephone mounted on the wall.
“Wait.” Deacon stepped forward. He held his hands palm out to show that he was unarmed, that he didn’t want anyone to get hurt. “Before you do that,” he said, nodding toward the phone, “just let us make a quiet exit. We leave empty-handed, you don’t have to spend hours with the cops.”
Richard stared at Deacon as though he was seeing a guy in a pair of cowboy boots for the first time. It was a perplexed, almost mystified look, one that was utterly confused by what he’d just heard.
“We don’t need any trouble,” Deacon said. For a moment Richard appeared to be considering the option. But then his attention wavered, his gaze paused on the precarious stack of furniture in the center of his living room. The inevitable spark of violation ignited somewhere deep inside his guts.
“Are you fucking kidding?” He glared at Deacon, shooting down the offer with a sneer. “Who the fuck are you people? Look what you’ve done to my house!”
“It’s just stuff,” Sunnie whispered, her words clear in the temporary lull. Richard veered around, his eyes wide, his indignation growing by the second.
“It’s my stuff, you bitch.”
“Hey.” Deacon continued his steady approach, which was clearly making Richard uncomfortable. “There’s no need for that.”
“Yeah.” The word rolled off Gypsy’s bottom lip in a sultry growl. “Scumbag.”
“Richard?” Claire.
Avis chewed the inside of her cheek. She wanted nothing more than to get outside, to escape the scene, to protect the tiny person growing inside her. Maggie was still holding Jeff’s hand. She was looking right at Avis, as though challenging her to make something of it. Or maybe it was just Avis’s imagination. Unbalanced. The intoxication of fear, the shock of being caught.
“Stay upstairs!” Richard yelled up to his wife.
“Richard, what’s happening?” Claire obviously wasn’t good at taking orders. She came down the hall and exhaled a gasp. Her eyes were wide, stunned at the strangers standing throughout her kitchen and living room, most of them still as Greek marble. “Oh my G—who are you?” She glared at Deacon. “What do you want? Get out of here, all of you! Get out before we call the police!”
“No,” Richard said. His upper lip curled in a defiant sneer. “They aren’t going anywhere.”
“What are you talking about?” Claire shot him a look. “Tell them to leave!” she insisted, but Richard shook his head.
“Look what they did to the living room. They’ve damaged our personal property. This isn’t kid’s stuff, Claire. This has to be reported.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Rich!”
“Look, we don’t want any trouble,” Deacon said again.
“Then you shouldn’t break into people’s houses,” Richard shot back.
“We didn’t break in,” Clover muttered.
“Yeah. The sliding glass door was open,” Gypsy purred. “Almost like you wanted us to walk right in.”
Richard gave Claire a furious look. Apparently Claire had a habit of leaving doors unlocked.
“Fine,” Deacon resolved, “go ahead and call the cops, but we’re leaving anyway.” He motioned for the girls to start making their way toward the door. Young Sunnie was the first to scamper into the foyer. Clover and Gypsy took their time to saunter past the home owners, their heads held high. Maggie remained where she was, her hand gripping Jeff’s. Avis, still by the giant window, happened to be the farthest from the hall. She was left to bring up the rear. But it seemed that when she reached Richard, he realized he was letting all of his suspects go. With the phone clutched in one hand, he grabbed Avis as she passed, jerked her away from the boys, and looped the phone wire around her neck in a quick, fluid motion.
She cried out in surprise, struggling as Deacon and Kenzie lurched toward him.
“Don’t!” Richard warned. “I’ll choke her, you shitheads. It’s my right! You’re trespassing and I’m protecting my wife and my property. I’m a lawyer. I know what’s what!”
Deacon lifted an arm to keep Kenzie at bay.
“Leave her alone!” Noah yelled. “She’s pregnant!”
“Good,” Richard countered. “All the more reason for you assholes to not do something stupid. Now, all of you, sit the hell down.” He waved the phone receiver at the only couch that had been spared of Noah and Kenzie’s stacking game. Deacon gave Richard a defiant glare. When Noah and Kenzie looked to Jeffrey for guidance, Jeff—still standing in the kitchen, still holding Maggie’s hand—nodded.
Do what he says.
Deacon’s fingers curled into fists, but he followed his two brothers across the room.
“Oh, so you’re the brains of the operation?” Richard asked, peering at Jeff. “You too, pal. Move it!”
“Sure,” Jeff said, lifting his shoulders up in a nonchalant shrug. “Not the first time I’ve been arrested, man. It’s cool. Just let me take her with me.” He pushed Maggie toward the hall where the other girls waited. She gave him a hurt look of rejection, but Jeff had far more pressing matters to attend to. He stepped around the kitchen counter and steadily approached Avis, Maggie all but forgotten behind him. The cord was tight around Avis’s neck. She could smell onions on Richard’s breath. Onions and the mellow smoothness of an after-dinner Scotch.
“She’s fine where she is, pal,” Richard said, tightening the cord the closer Jeffrey came. But Jeff refused to back off. Out of the corner of Avis’s eye, she saw him draw out a knife. It was huge, the biggest one he’d managed to pull from the knife block on the kitchen counter.
Avis’s eyes went wide.
Claire bleated a little scream.
Richard tensed.
“Hey, all right, all right!” Richard unlooped the cord from around Avis’s neck, as though backing off would cause Jeff to forget the whole thing. “Just calm the hell down! You want it to play out that way, then just go.” He’d suddenly changed his mind about the cops. “Get the hell out of here. Leave us alone.”
“Well, you see, we already gave you that option, Dick,” Jeff said. “And then you had to threaten my unborn child, all in the name of a precious couch.”