Blackout (6 page)

“You can’t still be a virgin, not with all those French hotties.”

“I’m not.” I just don’t remember it. Thankfully I’d been on the pill. I still am, though I don’t know what for.

She karate chops her hands like Kung Fu Panda. “And that douchebag didn’t get you off? Introduce me, and I’ll give him a good swift kick in the groin.”

“He’s in Paris. Can we talk about this later?” Dare hasn’t once looked away from us. I don’t want him to hear what we’re talking about. It’ll only embarrass me further.

“I know how to make you give up all your secrets.” She playfully shoves me again. “Are you going to stop staring? That boy is devouring you with his eyes. It’s downright sinful. If I weren’t so crazy over Ryan, I’d like for Dare to sin all over me and then toss him away. None of those Tuckers are keepers.”

“Dare hates me. He wanted to leave me in the swamp to drown.”

Dare rolls his bottom lip inward with his tongue, and I swear my legs jelly. Sam used to do that when he was hitting on girls. Too bad he went to jail.

“No, he doesn’t.” Kami smacks me. “Dare’s lickin’ his lips like a hungry wolf. I told you to stay away. He’s bad news, even if does look like a double-scoop of caramel macchiato.”

“It’s more like he wants to kill me, and you said he wasn’t buying a swimsuit. We should’ve checked this place out first.”

“We’re not leaving until you buy a scandalous bikini that all the boys will talk about, especially Graham.”

It would be nice to impress Graham.

I grumble under my breath, sort through the rack, and pick out two more suits, my body quivering the whole time. Dare’s glare runs up and down me, like a spider playing with its prey trapped in its web. Why does he hate me? I didn’t say anything to the cops or the judge.

The dressing room where he’s standing opens and out comes a girl, and she’s not Lisa Skittleharp. Astonishment hits me before I give into the idea that he’s moved on.

This girl has long chestnut hair and sports a white thong that highlights her deep tan and the tattoos checkered on her body. There’s only a handful of unpainted skin, her face, her chest and some of her legs and arms. Her lips are pierced and so is her chin. She’s strikingly beautiful, yet menacing—the kind of girl I wouldn’t want to tangle with.

She flings her hair back. “What do you think, honey?”

“It’s fine.” He doesn’t even look at her. His gaze is still locked onto me. I glance away but shortly return to watching them.

She casts her gaze in our direction, and he doesn’t look away. She slaps him hard across the face. “How could you look at those high school bitches? They’re babies.”

Anger flashes across his hazel eyes, and he grabs her wrists, so she can’t strike him again. “Don’t ever hit me.”

Even I take a step back from the fury in his voice, stumbling into the rack behind me. He shakes his head and snickers.

The girl struggles against his grip, but he has a tight hold on her. The muscles in his arms tense, showing chiseled biceps and forearms. He isn’t the boy I played with as a child. He’s dangerous now, the man Daddy described when I was a child.

“Hey,” Kami starts, throwing her hand up in the air at the girl. “At least I’m not some trailer trash dropout.”

Dare’s handsome face burns a deep crimson. He finally drops his gaze from us. “Let’s go, Shannon.”

“No bitch is going to talk to me that way,” she says, breaking free of him. She stomps over to us. When her fist searches for Kami, Dare wraps those muscular arms around Shannon.

“That’s enough, Shannon,” his deep voice rumbles.

“They’re not going to get away with that,” she says.

She punches his chest while grinning wickedly. She’s enjoying this caveman attitude, and I watch with interest. There’s something extremely sensual about the whole display that holds my attention, and I’m not sure why. But I don’t understand why he puts up with her.

She throws a wild swing at Kami that doesn’t connect.

“No, you don’t.” He drags Shannon over to the front of the register. She’s pulling on his hair, throwing the tantrum of a three-year-old.

He stabs a finger at her. “Don’t you dare move, or I’ll smack your ass.”

Shannon stands there, not frightened but obedient. They certainly are dysfunctional.

The saleslady giggles. “That sounds entertaining.”

He grumbles and storms away. He grabs Shannon’s things out of the dressing room, tossing them into her bag.

Before he returns to her, he stops by us. He shuffles through the rack and pulls out a navy and white Brazilian cut bikini. “This is more your color.”

He throws it onto my stack but takes the others and stuffs them back onto the rack. He then laughs and grabs an ugly green one. “This one will match your cast though.”

“Are you her fashion coordinator now?” Kami asks, fisting her hips.

Thinking better of punching him, I press my hand on his firm chest. He doesn’t move, but his breathing halts and the fluttering of his heart skitters under my palm. What just happened? I gaze into his eyes, sparkles flickering in them.

“Don’t start what you aren’t willing to finish, Teal,” he practically growls.

“What?” What is he talking about? “You were going to leave me to die this morning.”

“That hasn’t changed,” he snaps.

“I’m not afraid of you, Dare,” I toss at him.

He gets in my face, and the heat of his rage hits me. “You should be, but on Thursday, you’ll get your wish. You won’t have to talk to me again, but in the short term, I’m going to give you as much grief as I possibly can, especially after you lied about that day.”

“I didn’t lie.” He didn’t do anything, and I wish I could remember what did happen. My daddy doesn’t like him. It’s not me.

“You did, and I’ll pay for it for the rest of my life.” He stalks back to Shannon.

“What’s on Thursday?” Kami asks.

“It must be the hearing for the restraining order.” I plan on showing up for that now while Daddy will call into it. What does he think I lied about?

“We’ll take this one. It looks great on you—honey,” he says bitterly.

She smiles, like she’s won.

After he hands the beach bag to her, he digs in his pocket and hands the cashier a hundred. She takes out the amount and stuffs the change into his palm.

Shannon glares at us. “This isn’t over.” She swings her fist in our direction.

“I’m shaking in my flip-flops,” Kami barks back.

“Stop it, Shannon,” Dare says.

“I demand to know who that girl is,” she spits out.

“Teal Covington.” His voice is hard and cold.

She stops to study me, like I’m an interesting exhibit at a museum, until Dare shepherds her out.

“You’re w-w-with me,” she stutters.

“We’ve never been an ‘us.’”

She doesn’t seem too upset about it. “What do you mean? I know you love me.” She pinches his ass.

“I pay for services rendered.” His voice is low but not quiet enough for us to not overhear.

I don’t understand why he’d be with a girl he doesn’t like. He and Lisa were together throughout high school. Did she dump him? I almost feel bad for him. I know he really liked her at one time.

Kami gives me a playful shove. “Darius Tucker likes you. What’s up with that?”

“No, he doesn’t, and he never did before.” He barely tolerated me when we were kids. His mom told him to be nice to me.

Dare drags Shannon off, but not without glancing back at me. Disgust rims his eyes and sets a hard line to his jaw.

What is up with him? He needs to get over it.

Later that afternoon I sit in front of the boob tube with Lulu. Given I have no car, how will I get to therapy now? I also have no cell phone, so my life is pretty much over unless I count Kami’s charity. She has a date tonight and probably most nights until her boyfriend goes off to college. We need some serious girl time.

Bored with watching TV, I stare at my cast then look outside. How will I get a job now? Through the large picture windows and accordion glass doors, I watch the ocean curl into itself, sighing wistfully.

“Let’s go for our walk,” Lulu says, patting my leg.

The home phone rings before we get up, startling me.

I pick up, and Daddy blasts into my ear. “Are you all right? Why didn’t you tell me about the accident?”

I cringe. He sounds really worried. I shouldn’t have been such a chicken-shit and called him. It’s better when I do. “I’m fine, Daddy. How did you find out?”

“Lulu and Sheriff Tate called me. You stay away from Darius Tucker.”

Thanks Lulu. I grimace at her. “Dare saved me before the swamp took the SUV.”

“I don’t care. Stay away from him.” Daddy carries on with his tirade. “You need to see Doctor Lambert right away. We can’t take any chances. You could’ve been seriously injured.”

He’s my old psychiatrist while I lived here. “He didn’t help me the last time, and I think he’s retired.” During my sessions, he’d sometimes fall asleep. “Please let me find someone.” The Parisian doctors who supposedly cured me did nothing also. I need to find the right person for me.

“I can make some calls and find you a new one.”

“I’ll be eighteen soon. Please let me handle this.” I’m not a child anymore. In the fall, I’ll be on my own. I pretty much am now.

“You have to visit one this week. Don’t wait.”

“I will. I will.” It’s nice that he worries, but I can find a doctor. I’m not incompetent. I’m just crazy.

“How are you going to get around now?”

“I have my old beach cruiser and Kami said she could drive me.” When I was a kid, I rode that bike everywhere.

“I should come home. I’ll get a flight out tomorrow.”

I don’t want him to give up any more of his life than he has. We spent years here while the doctors drugged me, analyzed me, and drugged me some more. I don’t want to go back to the stupor I walked around in until I was deemed cured.

“Daddy, you love what you do. I promise I won’t drive, and I can take care of Lulu. If worse comes to worse, I’ll take a taxi.” It’ll suck not being able to drive, but we’ll manage.

He lets out a breath. “I don’t know. I should be there to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself, so there’s no need to rush home. I’ll find another doctor. Please, just give me a chance.” Therapy better work this time. With all the money Daddy has spent, I should be perfectly healthy. “I’m not a little girl anymore. In a few months, I’ll be off to college.”

“Don’t remind me.” Sadness echoes in his voice. He’ll be lonely. He hasn’t even dated since Mama left. “Let’s see how it goes for a week, but if you need anything, you call right away. Don’t wait.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Get a phone tomorrow, so I can call you.” Warmth resonates in his stern tone.

I smile. I love him. He’d take off work to drive me to therapy, and he taught me how to drive in a foreign city. I wasn’t very good either. I backed over someone’s bike in the country. “I will.”

“And Teal. I love you. Please have the doctor call me. I wish one of those damn doctors could figure out what’s wrong.”

I exhale heavily. “Me too.”

The next morning I search online. Most of the psychologists are a few cities away, but there are a couple not too far, but only one that works with my particular problems.

Most therapists have an answering service, but this guy picks up on the first ring. “Miles Grant speaking.”

“Hi, I’m looking for a doctor to…” Now what do I say. I’m broken. I’m nuts. “I have blackouts.”

“Is it just fainting or do you lose moments of cognizance?” His voice is matter of fact with a hint of warmth and understanding.

He’s not a coddler, and I like that. “Both.”

“So you’ve seen other doctors? Do you have a current clinician?”

“I just moved back from France, and I have copies of my whole case history since age eight.”

“Age eight.” He hesitates. “PET scans?”

I like that he’s efficient. “I have lots of pretty pictures.”

He laughs, not at me, but with me. “Normally, I work with sexually abused children, and you sound like an adult.”

“I’ll be eighteen this Saturday.” I hope he’ll see me. I don’t want to drive to Raleigh or some other city, and so far, he hasn’t mentioned a cadre of drug therapy.

“I work best with small children. That’s my specialty. You see kids really like me because I look goofy. I resemble Groucho Marx—the caterpillar brows and all, silly smile, thick glasses. You probably don’t know who that is. You’re too young. Heck, I’m too young to know who he is.”

I laugh. “If you’ll take me, you’re hired, and I do know who the Marx Brothers were. When can I get an appointment?” Please, please take me. I have no way to travel to Raleigh, which means Daddy will come home to take me. Since my illness, he’s given up so much for me.

“You’re in luck I just opened my practice here, so I’m wide open. In cases like yours, I do work with a neurosurgeon. She’ll request a full physical. Can you be here in an hour? We’ll start with a two hour session and see how it works from there.”

“Right now?”

“It’s raining outside, so my tan can wait.”

“I’ll see you then,” I say, choking down a laugh.

I like this guy, and Dad will be ecstatic I went to see him so soon.

Carrying a box full of medical records, I slip into a taxi well after lunch and tell the cabbie to drive me to Dr. Grant’s. When I arrive, he opens the door, holding an umbrella to shelter me from the rain. He must’ve seen me with my arms full through the front window.

He is exactly as he described himself—Groucho Marx minus the mustache and a little taller. Instead of wearing a psycho-killer lab coat, he has on a polo shirt, khakis, and bright yellow flip-flops adorned with plastic sharks.

He lifts one foot. “You like?”

“Very hipster,” I say.

“The kids go crazy over them. It usually scares off the more mature crowd.” A lopsided grin opens his expression.

“I like them.” And I admire him for being himself.

He takes the box from me. “It’s heavy. Come in.” He escorts me past a reception area into another room and past a large window looking into his office.