CHAPTER 15 Rated R WARNING: Trigger warning. Mentioning's of attempted assault/rape.
TPOV
That morning, I felt the need to loaf in my bed. Returning to bed and being lazy wasn’t a luxury I often allowed myself but it was a nice diversion. Besides, it smelled like her: Bourbon, Lucky Strikes, and Brylcreem with a touch of Old Spice. Her smell lingered on my pillow and in the sheets long after she was gone. I wanted to think only of her, spend the day daydreaming of Willow Rosenberg: her wicked grin and bedroom eyes.
Eventually, I knew that I needed to get some work done. After a quick shower, I dressed in lounging clothes. Even though I didn’t plan on leaving the house, I never knew who might stop by. I knew who I hoped would stop by. I chided myself: Work, Tara-Rose. Think about work! I was scheduled to return to the Le Beau offices bright and early Monday morning and I needed to get back into the work mindset.
Pulling out a notepad and pencil, I outlined a few new campaign ideas that had been floating around in my head. Some were things that Daddy and I had discussed before his passing, and others were new ideas I thought we should explore. As the new head of Le Beau Cosmetics, I knew that my every move would be watched, my every decision critiqued. I wanted to come across as strong, confident, and fair, just as my father had been.
The room was too quiet, so I snapped on the radio only to hear “Green Eyes.” It was the song we had danced to at the Gala. Instead of making me think of her less, I only thought of her more. Was I a fool to want her? Could I get along without her? Could we have a life together? I was afraid to answer those questions.
Snap out of it, Tara-Rose!
Attempting to focus, I turned my attention back to the notes I had scribbled on the paper in front of me. Realizing I didn’t have the latest information about the newest line of nail polish in my room, I slipped my feet into my slippers and walked down the hall to my father’s study.
The door was partially closed. Odd. Daddy had usually kept it closed for privacy reasons, and more so now, it was kept closed out of respect for the recently deceased; but it appeared as though someone might be in there. Slowly swinging the door open and not sure of what I would find, I was surprised to see my brother. He was on his knees in front of the bottom desk drawer, surrounded by papers and rifling through the meticulous files our father had kept.
“Donald?” He startled at the sound of my voice, looking up from his place near the desk to where I stood in the entrance of the room, eyes wide. “Donald,” I repeated. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was seeing. He had a wild look in his eyes, somewhat crazed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for ….something, Tara.” He seemed hesitant to tell me any more information.
Quickly, pieces started falling into place and the room spun around me while I stood there, rooted to one spot. Once more, in the same study where I had completely and truly accepted the fact that my father was dead, I realized who was responsible for his death.
Moving toward the window, I sat down on the settee so that my legs wouldn’t give out from underneath me. I had to keep it together. I hope to God I’m mistaken.
“That note … it wasn’t for Daddy.” I said quietly, sadly aware that I wasn’t asking a question but stating a fact. Wrapping my arms around my torso, I continued, “You won’t find it here. Willow has it.”
“Tara-Rose…“ Donald started over to me, putting his arm out as though he was going to wrap them around my shoulders.
I put my hand out to rebuff him. “No. Don’t touch me. Sit down over there and answer me. The note,” I said, trying to keep the slightly hysterical rise from my voice, “it wasn’t for him. It was for you.” I needed to hear him say it.
Donald didn’t answer. Instead he rested his hands on his forehead and blew out a long breath. He stood like that for a while, rubbing the base of his palms against his closed eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like this, Tara.” He finally said.
I was afraid to know what he meant, but I had to asked, I needed to know. “What do you mean?”
“It was only supposed to make him sick,” he said as he lowered his arms, his hands coming to rest at his sides. “It wasn’t supposed to kill him.”
“Why would you do that Donald?”
He leaned over the desk and picked up a rock paperweight that he had painted and made for our father when he was in elementary school.
“You know, I made this for James when I was in fourth grade. It was a Christmas project. I was so proud that he used it but I always asked why he didn’t take it into the office. He said that it was better for the home study.” He placed the paperweight back down on the desk as he looked at me. “I was always better at home. He took you out, paraded you around. He would have given you the world if you asked.”
“This can’t be about jealousy, Donald.”
“Jealously?” he spat the word out at me as though it personally offended him. “It’s not about jealously.”
“Then what is it about, Donald?” I nearly begged him, “Please help me because I can’t possibly understand your rationale and Lord knows; I’m really trying to here.”
“This is about our father not helping his family, his son.” He growled out.
It didn’t make sense. This conversation, his animosity toward our father; none of it made sense. “I am not sure what you are insinuating. Daddy would have helped either of us, if we needed it.” He shook his head vehemently, repeating the word no as I spoke.
“Daddy didn’t help me when I needed it.” He moved next to me and sat on the settee. I shifted slightly so that I wasn’t sitting so close to him.
“I got in a bit over my head with a gambling debt-“
I arched an eyebrow. “If I recall, and I’m certain I know more about this than you think I do, you often get in ‘a bit over your head’ when it comes to gambling.”
Donald looked at me, emotions warring on his face. Both sadness and anger were evident in his expression. “Well, our father wouldn’t assist me this time around. I guess he didn’t tell you that; did he, dear sister?” He took a deep breath and his eyes met mine. Once again, I was reminded of our father and the thought now sickened me. “And Tara-Rose? It was big; I’m talking a lot of money. The people involved weren’t taking no for an answer. I was desperate. I had nowhere else to turn and I brought the note to James.”
I willed my eyes not to squeeze shut. Not to force the angry tears out that I was holding in. Those tears would show a sign of weakness, which I couldn’t afford at the moment. Thankfully, my voice did not betray me. “And what did he say?”
“He told me that he’d see what he could do. Dismissed me like I was one of the help.”
My heart hurt within my chest and my lungs felt like they couldn’t get enough air. Drawing in a sharp breath, I said, “Donald, I don’t believe it. Daddy didn’t treat the staff like ‘the help,’ he treated them like family. I’m sure if you-“
“I don’t know when this is going to get through your thick skull, Tara-Rose, but our father wasn’t the martyr you make him out to be. He wasn’t perfect; far from it, actually. He was flawed and sometimes I think I was the only one able to see those flaws.”
I needed to get away from him. I stood and went to the drink cart, pouring some sort of alcohol with a shaking hand. I couldn’t even pay attention to what it was. I just needed the distance between us. Donald continued with his rant. “I was always second best to you, even though I was his son! The one who would carry on the Maclay name. Carry on our legacy! He couldn’t get past the fact that Mother passed away after birthing me. So instead, he turned to you for his source of comfort. You were his reason for being. He decided to raise you to run the family business, and he put all his hopes and dreams into your future, not mine.”
“He wasn’t going to give me the money. He made that quite clear when we last spoke about the issue. So to save myself … to save my life … I ended up taking his.”
His face twisted into a pained mask that I had never seen before on my baby brother, until this day. “I should have guessed that he had altered the will so that everything would be left to you. A dirty, vile whore! The final blow to me and it shouldn’t have surprised me in the slightest.”
“How much, Donald?” My voice was low.
I couldn’t look at him. My blood burned through my body and roared in my ears. I was surprised I could hear his low answer of “nineteen.” I closed my eyes, the inside of my eyelids were a vivid red.
“Nineteen hundred?”
“Nineteen thousand.”
My eyes snapped open instantly. I was still seeing red. “Donald. Nineteen thousand dollars???” I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself. It did not work. “For the love of all that is holy! How could you do this?” The money. Our father. All of it.
He stood from the chair with such force that it shoved backward into the wall. I took a step away from him. He was standing in front of me in an instant, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me, “He wasn’t supposed to die. Just get sick. Sick enough where he needed my help for once.”
This wasn’t my brother standing before me. This was some enraged man who was obviously not thinking clearly, not thinking at all. I couldn’t think of the right words and I was completely torn with what to do. My brain frantically tried to sort things out. I considered just giving him the money, letting him pay his debt and flee. The other part of my brain was screaming to call the police and turn him in. He’d be in jail, but I knew the people he owed and they could probably get to him, even in jail. Either way, I would lose my brother.
If I were being honest with myself, he was already lost.
“Please. Please let go of me,” I pleaded as my voice wavered in fear.
“What, you think I’m going to kill you too?” his brows furrowed together as he looked at me, his teeth clenched tight showing off the muscles in his jaw, a wild look in his eyes. He continued to stare down at me until his face slowly started to soften, my fear finally registering with him. “I could never hurt you Tara. But these guys I owe, they’re not messing around. They’ll knock me off if I don’t come up with some cabbage fast.”
He let go of my arm and took a few steps back, the back of his legs bumping into our father’s desk. Perching on the edge of the desk, he looked skyward as he chewed on the bottom of his lip. “I’m going to need that money, Tara.”
“He’s not wrong,” said a gruff voice from the door.
Jumping in shock, not having heard anyone approach, I stared wide eyed at William Pratt and the several cronies lingering in the hallway behind him. The chopper squad standing behind him meant business, there weapons visible in the waistband of their slacks. I counted at least three hatchetmen, one of which was the sleaze ball from the Gala, Parker Abrams.
“What do you want?” I asked, my eyes consistently shifting between William and my brother.
“I think you know what I want, doll.” William snarled out as he strode further into the room, his black overcoat billowing behind him like an ominous cloud. Nodding his head, he signaled to his goons to enter the room; two circling around Donald as Mr. Abrams walked up to me. “Little Donny here owes me quite a bit of money and I’m here to collect.”
“I … I don’t have it,” he stuttered as the goons grabbed a hold of him, securely gripping an arm each. “I need more time.”
Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, William shook his head in disappointment. “Now, I’ve been more than accommodating with you welshing on your debt. You asked for more time and I let you off with a warning. But I guess that’s in part my fault; I should have had my men break your knees instead of blackening your eye to get the point across.”
My head snapped towards my brother, taking in the now yellowish purple bruise still remaining around his eye. I should have known better. I shook my head in disappointment, my eyes watering with tears as my heart broke all over again. Donald had gotten himself in deep with a loan shark and the outcome wasn’t looking good.
“Let my sister go,” Donald begged, his eyes filled with fright. “I’ll get you your money!”
“Now, you owe me nineteen thousand dollars, plus interest.” Remarked William as he walked toward my brother, his right hand reaching inside his jacket. Brandishing a pistol, he placed the barrel to Donald’s forehead. “Now, I’m not much for negotiations but I think we could work something out to eliminate that interest.”
Before I knew it, Mr. Abrams was standing behind me. I didn’t have a chance to step away before his arms were wrapped firmly around my torso. My body instantly tensed as I felt his hot breath hit the back of my neck.
“It seems that Mr. Abram has taken quite the interest in your sister,” chuckled William as he turned his head to the side; his smile growing wider as he watched tears cascade from my eyes.
He watched; amusement evident in his eyes as Mr. Abram pulled me closer to his body. With one hand wrapped around my waist, he let the other trail down my neck, his fingers gliding down to my exposed sternum before tracing over my breast. He was set to have his way with me; it was implied by his caresses and William’s words.
“Please don’t do this,” Donald begged, tears streaming down his own cheeks, mingling with the snot pouring out of his nose. “Please! Kill me. Just kill me. But please, let her go.”
“Oh, we’ll let her go,” William stated as he pressed the barrel harder against Donald’s forehead. “She’s about to inherit your debt.” He cocked back the hammer on his gun, “but first, you’re going to watch what your stupidity has cost your sister.”
The feeling of Abram’s hands on my body sent trembles of fear throughout my body. I tried to talk but I felt like my vocal cords were being restricted. It felt as if every nerve ending in my body was screaming, begging for my brain to formulate a plan of escape. It was fruitless; my legs were anchored to the ground, my brain too panicked to think past what was about to happen.
I wasn’t sure how we ended up behind the divan; I’m not sure if I walked willingly or he had dragged me. It wasn’t until I felt a firm presser on my back did I snap back to reality. I began to struggle in his grasp, thrashing my arms to try and dislodge myself as I screamed for help. I only stopped yelling when a fist connected with my jaw, shockwaves of pain radiating throughout my head; leaving me seeing stars.
I was too dazed to fight back, my head reeling as my eyes fought to stay open. There was pressure once again on my back, the hand pressed firm against my shoulder blade as he pushed me forward, bending me slightly at the waist to rest against the back of the settee. One strong, callused hand pinned my wrist to the fabric of the settee as the other roughly pushed up my skirt. I quietly begged to be let go as tears poured down my cheek at an exponentially faster pace.
As tears blurred my vision and Donald loudly beseeched with William to let me go, I noticed through the open door Liam rushing down the hallway toward us. As he skidded to a stop, his hands gripping either side of the doorframe, I called out to him, pleading with him for help. He looked troubled as he looked from me to William; the gun still trained on my brother.
“Ah Liam, old friend!” William called out as he noticed the torpedo standing in the doorway. “You’re just in time, we’re about to have a little fun with Miss. Maclay here. Care to join us? Take a little spin after Abrams; prove to us you haven’t been castrated.”
“Please Liam, help me.” My voice was strained, hitching as I felt Abrams’ hand glide higher up my thigh. My lips trembled as he stood there motionless, his eyebrows twitching in contemplation. It felt like a lifetime had passed before he finally moved, his feet slowly shuffling backwards into the hall before he turned and briskly walked away. “Liam!”
_________________ Alyson, oh, Alyson why don´t you join my band? So you could play the flute like this one time in band camp. I Am Forever / A Special Christmas of Sorts / Maybe It's Just Me / Honeysuckle Rose / Blackouts and Breakthroughs / When Love Arrives
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