Imperfect Intentions (Beauty in Imperfection) - Page 8

Shit.

Gus doesn’t believe in giving anything for free, not even a reliable car that won’t break down in the middle of the night. In our family, everything must be earned.

The engine finally comes to life, the headlights dimming before the noise of the fanbelt settles. I pull out of the parking lot, not waiting to see if Leon is following. The office block is in Midrand, not far from Gus’s house. Throwing the car into fourth gear, I speed down the deserted road. At the intersection, I glance in the review mirror, but the road is clear behind me.

Breathing easier, I floor the gas and make it home in twenty minutes. I lock the front door behind me and set the alarm. I’m tired to the bone and my hip aches more than usual. I drop my keys and bag in the entrance and drag myself to the kitchen where I make a sandwich and a cup of tea. I’ve almost finished my dinner when a noise coming from down the hall makes me pause. My sneakers are quiet on the floor as I tiptoe down the hallway. A sliver of light falls from under the study door. Something clatters.

My stomach draws tight. Our household is no stranger to violence.

I press my ear against the wood, my hand already on the handle. A man grunts. Gus. A rhythmic tapping follows and then a woman’s moan. The fact that he’s not assaulting my mother doesn’t ease the knot in my stomach. Sometimes, I wonder if this is worse for her—moaning and acting. Pretending.

I don’t linger. There’s nothing I can do. Until I get both of us out of here, we don’t have a choice but to grit our teeth and dance to Gus’s tune. Not bothering to tidy the kitchen, I take my bag and go upstairs. My room is at the end of the hallway opposite Elliot’s. I’m careful not to make a noise when I close the door and turn the key in the lock. I don’t want to wake Elliot. He’ll still be angry about the coffee incident, and I’m too tired for another fight.

Flicking on the light, I lean against the wall. My room hasn’t changed since I can remember. It still has the single bed with the pink bedspread from when I was six years old and the pine desk on which I carved my initials. It’s the bedroom of a little girl, not of a twenty-four-year-old woman. Gus is wealthy, but he’s also tight-fisted. He won’t replace anything until it falls apart. Since turning of legal age, Elliot and I pay rent for staying here. The only reason I’m not wasting money on new furniture or my own place is for the greater goal of escape.

I draw the curtains before undressing, and then I have a quick shower. After brushing my teeth, I slip between the sheets and find a comfortable position on the side of the mattress even if I always roll into the hollow in the center during the night.

When I close my eyes, my thought is the same as always.

I don’t belong here.

I never have.

But tonight I have more on my mind than feeling unwelcome in my childhood home. My heart hasn’t settled after my encounter with Leon Hart. His words play on repeat in my mind, his intention confusing me, because he couldn’t have meant what I think he did. He can’t possibly want me like that. It sounded too much like he asked for—no, ordered me on—more than a date, much more than I’ll ever be willing to give. Talking to Gus about it isn’t an option. I’m not my stepfather’s favorite person, and he isn’t mine. I’m on my own in this, but like I told Leon, I can fight my own battles. And fight, I will. To my last breath.

CHAPTER 5

Leon

Instead of going home, I drive to a popular bar not far from where I live. The bar meals are decent, and the cocktails aren’t overpriced, not that I’m a fan of anything served with a cherry and a bamboo straw.

I know the menu by heart. To save time, I order a steak with fries and a beer straight at the counter before sliding onto a seat at a booth in the back. Not many people are here alone. Groups mostly occupy the tables. I don’t mind dining on my own, but I don’t particularly like it either. I simply can’t be bothered to cook tonight.

A brunette in a short dress and high heels enters. She drags her gaze over the room and locks it on me as her target. She says something to the waitress, who glances in my direction, and then makes her way over.

“Can I join you?” she asks. “As we’re both alone and everything.” She cocks a hip. “Unless you’re waiting for someone?”

Tags: Charmaine Pauls Dark
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