The disgust on his face was worse than a full-windup backhand. “Didn’t take you long.”
Which didn’t even make sense at first. Take her long for what?
“My brother’s been gone a month and you’ve already dropped your panties for some other guy? Nice work, Cass. You’re a class act.”
Her empty tray clattered to the floor as she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. “It’s his, you idiot.” She was up in his face, so close she could’ve bitten him. “You stupid, spoiled asshole. Ben’s baby.”
She shoved him away from her, surprised that even at her size and on tiptoes, she had the momentum to send him staggering back a step. Her fist itched to hit him, but a strangely insistent urge sent her past him and out the back door into the alley by the dumpster. She stood there in her flimsy uniform, steam snorting out of her nose like a dragon in the cold night air. The stench of a week’s worth of garbage filled her lungs, and she heaved the contents of her stomach off the end of the loading dock. She’d been nauseated for weeks, but this was the first time she’d actually thrown up, the dumpster and her own rage joining forces to overwhelm her.
When it was over, she pulled a couple of cocktail napkins out of her apron and wiped her mouth, and all she could think was how strange her own vomit tasted. She was perfectly familiar with its usual flavor. This seemed like it belonged to someone else.
Oh, right, she realized. There’s no booze in it.
After another minute or two her heart stopped pounding quite so hard and she was getting cold. She opened the door and went back in. The hallway was empty. In fact, when she came into the main room of the bar, Scott was nowhere to be seen.
Rogie came up beside her. “He left with someone else.”
“Oh,” she said, not sure of how to respond. Rogie seemed to think she’d be disappointed.
“I saw you two chatting it up. I was sure he’d hang out till closing and take you home.”
Boy, did you guess wrong, she thought.
“Better luck next time.” Rogie laughed languidly. One of the women he’d been flirting with came over, and he put an arm around her as the two of them left.
The goblin, giddy about the night’s stellar take, offered Cass some extra shifts and a ride home. “Or you could come to my apartment . . .”
In the interest of future tips, she smiled and said, “It’s been such a busy night, I’m just too tired.” But she did let him drive her “home” to a random house a couple of blocks away from her illegal room in the crooked house.
* * *
THE next morning Cass woke to the sound of knuckles rapping on glass. A hulking shape cast a blurry silhouette against the curtains in the cellar door window. Who in holy hell could it be? No one she knew got up this early. Unless of course they’d never gone to sleep at all, in which case they were either still wasted or jonesing for more. Either way, not good.
More rapping. “Cass, it’s me.”
She sighed, wrapped the blanket over her threadbare pajamas, and let him in. Scott’s face was puffy, eyes bloodshot. Rough night, she thought. Not like he didn’t deserve it after what he’d said. She went back to the twin bed and sat down cross-legged with the blanket around her. She pulled out a sleeve of saltines from the box on the floor.
There was a rickety chair she’d scrounged from someone’s sidewalk trash and Scott sat down in it. “You gonna offer me any?”
“Why? Are you pregnant?” She popped a cracker into her mouth and crunched hard.
He shifted in the seat and it tipped onto the shorter leg, creaking under his weight. He was bigger than ever, muscles like ham shanks in his shirtsleeves. She’d heard steroids could make you sterile. Probably just as well, she thought. He’s so spoiled, he’d make a terrible father.
He looked around, revulsion obvious in the twitch of his lip and the way he kept his limbs tucked close to him. As if shabbiness were contagious.
“So,” she said. “Social call?”
“I was thinking . . . you know, about last night. I just wanted to offer to pay for it if you wanted to get it . . . taken care of.”
“An abortion.”
“Yeah. I don’t know how much those things go for, but it’s gotta be upwards of a couple hundred bucks, and I would spot you for that.”
Spot her for an abortion. Like he was covering the cost of a hamburger or a bus ride.
Be nice, she told herself. He means well. And she knew he did.
“Thanks,” she said. “But I’m going to try and make a go of it.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because it’s Ben’s baby, and I want it. Why’s that so hard to understand?”
“Um, let’s see.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. “Maybe because you’re a drunk who can’t hold down a job for more than a month? Or because you don’t even know any kids, much less how to take care of one? And did I mention the drunk part?”
“I told you I quit—”
“Cass, for chrissake! How many times did you say you’d quit? Or cut down? Or do it only on the weekends? Huh? Like a million?” He stood up and raked his fingers through his hair. It had been blond when they were in high school, but now it was the color of wheat toast. “Jesus,” he said. “This is the worst idea you ever had.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole, but if I recall correctly—and I do because I’m sober and have been since the day I found out—you have exactly zero say in this decision.”
“Well, shit, that’s great and all, and I wish you well, but how long’s it been? A couple weeks? Can you keep it up for eighteen years? Because that’s what it takes, Cass. Eighteen years without a sip is a fucking long time for someone who’s as much of a lush as you.”
She flew at him then, the blanket falling away, but he caught her wrists before she could hit him, and twisted her around so she couldn’t knee him in the nuts, which had been her next plan. She stomped on his foot, and he grunted in pain, but then he simply lifted her off the ground so she couldn’t do it again.
“GET OUT!” she screamed. “Just leave me ALONE!”
He dropped her onto the bed, and her pajama top came up, revealing the soft belly in her otherwise too-thin frame. He stared at it, then his eyes rose to hers. “Don’t do it.” The words came out threatening and harsh, but she could hear a plea in it, too. “Don’t do to this kid what our parents did to us.”
He turned and walked out the door. In a second she was up and running after him.
“My mother was a good mother!” she screamed down the broken flagstone path at his back. “She was GOOD!”
He rounded the corner at the front of the house, and in another moment she heard a car door slam and an engine roar. The monstrous black SUV rocketed into traffic and was gone.
The flagstones were like ice beneath her bare feet, and she ran back inside and sank onto her bed, furious, crying, exhausted. And missing her mother, even after all these years.