The Cult (Cult 1)

“Can we go see the ponies today?”

“You just saw them last week.”

“But Constance hasn’t seen them. Please?”

He finished his cup of espresso before he carried everything to the table. “Alright. Since you said please.”

“Yes!” She climbed back onto her chair and looked at me, informing me of his decision as if I couldn’t hear what he’d just said. “Daddy said we can go.”

“Great. Can’t wait to see Budweiser.”

Benton took the seat beside her, dragged her chair closer to the table with one hand, and then turned back to his food. “Finish your food, and we’ll go.” He grabbed the linen napkin from the table and put it in her lap.

She grabbed her fork again.

“Elbows off the table.”

“Your elbows are on the table,” she fired back.

He gave a quiet sigh before he stopped doing it himself.

She shoveled the food into her mouth quickly, inhaling all of it, eager to get going as quickly as possible. “I’m going to get ready. You guys better hurry.” She slid off the chair and ran down the hallway into her bedroom.

The instant she was gone, he was back to his normal self.

His eyes dimmed.

His smile was a frown.

His elbows moved back to the table.

And he ignored me.

The man was literally two different people.

“I told her she’s going back to school on Monday.”

He turned his stare on me, his eating an afterthought.

“She’s excited.”

He resumed his meal, and once his bite was swallowed, he took another. There was no intention of responding.

“You don’t have to come with us today. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“I’m not missing things with Claire. And you have no idea where to go.” He looked straight ahead again and ate his cold breakfast without complaint.

I looked down into my coffee for a while, which had gone cold a while ago. “How was your night?”

He kept eating.

“I love the way you are with Claire. Just wish you were like that more often…”

He turned his gaze on me, his body going still, the food forgotten. “Not going to happen.”

“Even with the woman who saved your daughter? I think I’ve earned a little more respect than that.” I didn’t expect a particular level of kindness or grand gestures. I just wanted there to be more than this enormous divide of hostility.

He stared.

“Why is that so hard for you?”

Blue eyes pierced me, a summer sky in the midst of winter, still like the winter landscape before the storm hit. His eyes didn’t shift back and forth. He didn’t draw breath. Like the statues at the cult, he was lifeless. “You’re right.”

Push and pull. Back and forth. Lethal one minute, kind the next.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes were still. Unblinking. There was no emotion, but he seemed sincere.

Statues didn’t speak or issue apologies. But this one did. “Why is it so hard for you?” I repeated the question because I still wanted the answer. I’d never met anyone like him, a man so hard and heartless. I wanted to understand.

The staring continued along with the silence. “Not a people person.”

“I’m not either.”

A subtle shadow moved into his face, a tone of incredulity.

“Anymore…I guess I should say.”

He dropped his gaze and grabbed his fork again. He returned to eating, but this time, he didn’t close off from me. His eyes were down, but the hostility was gone.

“So…how was your night?”

He finished his food in a couple more bites, scarfing everything down like he hadn’t had a chance to eat last night. “I don’t belong there anymore. But it is what it is.”

“What do you do…exactly?”

The plate was wiped clean, so he grabbed his glass of water and took a drink. “We’ll talk about it later.” His eyes flicked to the hallway, where Claire emerged, dressed in her rain boots and jeans, ready to go.

“You guys are still eating?” she asked incredulously. “Come on, let’s go!” She ran back into her room, her boots tapping against the hardwood floor.

He tilted his head back and downed the rest of the water in a big swallow. “You heard the boss. Let’s go.”

I’d used the money he’d given me to buy new clothes.

I wore black jeans with rips in the thighs, black booties, and a black button-up blouse that tucked into the front of my jeans. With my hair and makeup done, I almost didn’t recognize myself.

I looked like a whole new person.

When I met them at the doorway, Benton was putting her coat on, getting her little arms through the sleeves.

“I’m hot.”

“You won’t be when we get there.” He rose to his feet, still in the long-sleeved shirt he’d worn last night because he didn’t seem to need a jacket. No surprise there…since all those muscles burned hotter than a furnace. His eyes flicked to mine and lingered for a millisecond. He’d only seen me look like a shitshow up until this point, and the difference was startling enough that even he noticed it.