Delusion Road (21 page)

“You gonna tell me what all the mystery is?” Wynn asked.

He’d already drained the Coke, and the empty tumbler in his hand reminded Willa oddly of a pin-pulled grenade. “I just got back from the mall.”

“Yeah?”

“I ran into someone there. Someone you know.”

He scratched at the thread of lettuce or celery with a fingernail. “You gonna make me guess?”

She thought she could hear something creep into his voice. An edge. Impatience? Or was her imagination just working overtime? No way could he have done what Bailey had accused him of. But she’d come this far, hadn’t she? He deserved to know what the girl was saying about him. “Bailey Holloway.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You hanging out with that one now?”

She shook her head. “We just ran into each other. Spent some time talking.”

“Talking, huh?”

She watched as he shifted the tumbler from one hand to the other, the motion slow and deliberate, his knuckles whitening as though he was gripping the glass. Tightly.

He seemed to notice her staring at his hand, and he set the tumbler on the ground, leaned back in his chair. “I wouldn’t think you two would have a lot to talk about.” There was that edge again.

“Bailey told me about something that happened to her. Something involving you.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his gaze steady.

Ordinarily, she would have thought he was waiting for her to continue, but his silence suggested more than that. His eyes were suddenly wary, and his face bore the same expression she’d seen
dozens of times in the past year. He always looked that way when he studied players on an opposing team just before a game, sizing them up. He’s waiting to find out what I know, Willa thought.

And then she felt sick. “It’s true, isn’t it,” she said as something inside her crumbled and fell away. “What she told me you did to her.”

She’d hoped to see confusion on his face, maybe indignation, even anger. At the very least, something that looked like denial. She hadn’t expected him to grin. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “No need for you to be jealous.”

The sound of the pool’s pump suddenly seemed louder. It had to be, the whir drowning out words, masking meaning. He couldn’t have said what she thought she’d heard. “What?” she asked.

“There’s nothing for you to be jealous about,” he repeated. “Guys have needs. Some girls are willing to do something about them.”

Willa’s head reeled with the unspoken accusation
—needs that you don’t meet.
She thought of all the times she’d sought advice on those women’s websites, all the times she’d returned to “Ten Top Tips for Pleasing Your Guy” and wondered where she was going wrong. “You’re blaming this on
me
?” she sputtered, her intention to keep anyone from hearing forgotten as her voice climbed a register. “You’ve never
once
—”

“I respect you, Willa. I’d never treat you that way.”

That way.

A wave of nausea washed over her.
That
was his need? To physically attack a girl, make her struggle, make her scream as he overpowered her?
That’s
what he needed to get off? “You’re sick,” she breathed.

Something glimmered in his eyes. “Careful, Willa,” he said.

“Or what? You’ll do to me what you tried to do to Bailey?”

“I didn’t do anything she didn’t want.”

Willa felt her jaw go slack. “You think she actually
wanted
that?”

“Her kind always does.”

“Her
kind
?”

“You know what I mean. Look at her mother. The apple didn’t fall far from that tree.”

Willa recalled thinking the same thing about Keegan the evening they volunteered at Casino Night. Hearing Wynn say those words now, she knew she’d never use that expression again. “You think you can use her
mother
as an excuse?” she asked, her head whirling.

Wynn raised that eyebrow again. “I don’t need an excuse. She got in my car. She was totally into it. If she’s saying anything different now it’s because she figured out it was just physical, that I’d never give you up for her. She just got mad and went running to you.”

But Bailey
hadn’t
gone running to her. Willa had
made
her tell, and she’d heard the emotion in Bailey’s voice as she spoke, had seen it on her face, on her whole body. No way could she have faked that.

Wynn seemed to think he’d made his case. “If I’d really done something wrong, she’d have gone to the police, right? But she didn’t.” He grinned again. “Girls like her, it’s the only thing they’re good for.”

Something between a gasp and a sob caught in her throat. How could she not have known this about him? How could she
have missed seeing it all this time? Sure, he’d called Francine Holloway a mattress, but everybody in their group had, Willa included, something that now shamed her. As bad as that was, though, this was so much worse. She felt her stomach lurch at the sudden knowledge that this part of him had been there all along, but she’d been so caught up with playing her role in The Wynn and Willa Show that she’d never even suspected it. She pulled herself to her feet.

Wynn did the same. “I thought you’d be grateful,” he told her.

She gaped at him.
Grateful
?

“Men do it all the time,” he said. “Why do you think whorehouses have been around forever?” He seemed to be waiting for her to agree, possibly even to thank him for not expecting her to satisfy his needs. “Bailey means nothing to me,” he continued, raising his arm as if to put his hand on Willa’s shoulder, but she jerked backwards, fighting a shriek that shared space with the bile in her throat.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Look, Wil—”

“Don’t even
speak
to me!” She turned, heading toward the gate leading to the driveway, but she stopped in mid-stride to look back at him. “Bailey might not have gone to the police, but I could,” she said, her voice shaking.

He looked skyward as if she were a child talking nonsense. “You weren’t there,” he said. “Anything you’d tell them would be hearsay.”

She felt her fingers curl into useless fists. He seemed to know a lot about laws involving sexual assault.

And then something clicked inside her head. “You’ve done
this before, haven’t you? That’s why you came to live with your dad last year. Did things get out of hand in Halifax? Somebody press charges?”

He scowled. “Nobody takes people like them seriously.”

People like them.
My God, she thought. I’ve been going with this guy for five months!

And then she remembered the mess in the library—the dirty rug, the scattered papers, the dust on all those shelves—and the d’Entremonts’ housekeeper, a young Jamaican woman who’d come to Nova Scotia earlier that year on a work visa.

“Besides,” continued Wynn, “think about how it would make
you
look.”

“Me
?”

“People would wonder what was wrong with
you
, wouldn’t they? Wonder why I’d have to go to girls like that for what I need?”

Willa had never been so angry in her life. She felt her hands tremble, but she pressed them tight against her legs so he wouldn’t see.

“And then there’s the other thing,” he said.

She forced herself to say the words he was waiting for. “
What
other thing?”

He smiled, clearly enjoying himself. “Ask your father.”

“My
father
?” she seethed. “What does
he
have to do with any of this?”

He just shrugged.

“You son of a bitch.” She’d barely breathed it, but she could see in his eyes that he’d heard.

“Easy, Willa. No need to make more of this than it really is. We were due for a first fight, anyway.”

She felt the shriek threaten again, struggled not to give in to it. “You and I are
done
,” she choked.

He glared at her, his eyes flashing. “We’ll see,” he said. “By the way, I wouldn’t go mentioning this to anybody else,” and she could hear the threat beneath the words.

“I thought you haven’t done anything wrong,” she sneered.

But he wouldn’t be goaded. “Coach Cameron told me if I play like last year I can expect to be scouted by all the big universities. I don’t need the distraction.”

The distraction.
She could no longer stand to look at him. Pivoting, she hurried across the pool deck and had almost reached the gate when his voice stopped her again.

“Remember, I don’t expect anybody else to hear about this.”

“Really?” she shot back at him. “I bet your
dad
would like to hear about it. He told me he doesn’t know much about what you do. Maybe I should have a chat with him right now.”

“Be my guest.”

Willa turned and saw Wynn’s father standing in the patio doorway watching them, an empty glass in his hand, his face flat and grey like the pool deck she was standing on now.

And all at once she understood that her earlier efforts to keep him from overhearing had been unnecessary.

Laird d’Entremont already knew.

Willa eased the SUV into the parking space beside the Cadillac Escalade with the licence plate
Jaffrey 1.
She’d been crying when she left Wynn’s, but not because she’d felt heartbroken
or betrayed. She’d probably have to face those feelings later, but right now all she felt was anger. Wynn’s father
knew
! And so did his stepmother. But at least the woman had done something about it. Or tried to. Now it was Willa’s turn.

She reached for her bag and pulled out her makeup case, doing a quick repair job—she’d have to walk the gauntlet of dealership employees, most of whom had known her since she was a child. She shut off the engine and got out, surprised again that the heat and humidity hadn’t lessened. Walking past the showroom’s plate glass windows toward the main entrance, she avoided looking at her reflection for the first time.

“Well, look who’s here!”

She manufactured a smile for Bob Hartley and Ed Benjamin, who sat on the leather furniture in the lounge area, obviously between customers. They were quite the contrast—Bob tall, lanky, and nearing retirement, while Ed was built like a barrel and had yet to turn thirty.

“Hi, guys,” she said, hoping they wouldn’t sense the forced casualness in her voice.

“What? No gown?” Bob teased.

She tried to smile again, but thoughts of her Arthur Mendonça reminded her of how self-involved she’d been that night, focused only on how she looked, while Bailey was struggling to stop her boyfriend from raping her. “My dad around?” she asked.

“In his office.”

“Anybody in there with him?”

“Not that I know of. Want me to buzz him for you?”

“Don’t bother. I’ll just go right through.” She crossed the
expansive showroom, passing a gleaming silver Yukon Denali, then turned down a hallway lined with offices. Through their open doorways, she could see people talking on phones or working at computers.

“Willa! What brings you here?” A smiling Shirley Patterson got up from her manager’s desk and hurried toward Willa, giving her a hug. Shirley had been working in the parts department when Willa’s dad had bought the business from the previous owner, and he’d kept her on, promoting her several times in the years that followed. Carleton Jaffrey had often said no one knew as much about the various departments in the dealership as Shirley did, and he didn’t know what he’d do without her. Willa had always thought of her more as family than as her father’s employee.

“You’re not having a problem with your vehicle, I hope,” said Shirley.

“No, it’s fine,” replied Willa. “Just here to see my dad. Okay if I go in?”

“Sure. But when you get a moment, stop in and visit, okay? We haven’t chatted in a long time. You can bring me up to speed on that young man of yours.”

Willa forced a smile. “Will do,” she said, continuing toward the door at the end of the hall, its brass plaque proclaiming “Carleton Jaffrey, President” in an elegant script.

She knocked, heard her father say “Come in,” and opened the door. He looked up from a large spreadsheet splayed across his desk and smiled. “Well, this is a nice surprise.”

The moment she saw him, she burst into tears.

Carleton got up and hurried around his desk. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

She moved into his open arms, pressed her cheek against his chest, and sobbed.

He reached out and shut the door, then held her for a long moment before leading her to a comfortable chair and easing her into it. He perched on the corner of his desk, one hand still holding hers as he pulled some tissues from a box and passed them to her. “What’s wrong, Willa?” he asked, his face etched with worry.

Willa managed to stop sobbing long enough to say “Wynn—” before the tears came again.

“Did you have an argument? Honey, it’s not the end of the world. All couples argue. Look at your mother and me—”

“No,” said Willa, finally getting herself under control. “We didn’t have an argument.” She coughed, blew her nose into the tissue, and then started at the beginning. It took her longer than she’d intended because she’d had to reach repeatedly for tissues, but she managed to get through it.

When she finished, her dad’s face looked like he’d been gut-punched, which was pretty much how Willa felt. He squeezed her shoulder gently, then moved around behind his desk and sank into his chair. “My God,” he breathed. He sat staring at the spreadsheet in front of him for a moment, then looked up at his daughter. “Did he ever hurt you?”

She shook her head.

“And you have no reason to doubt Bailey’s story?”

“No.”

He leaned across the desk, taking Willa’s hand in his again. His fingers gripped hers so tightly she could tell he was struggling with his own emotion. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, sweetheart. It must have been awful hearing those things.”

She nodded, but what had happened to her this afternoon didn’t begin to compare with what had happened to Bailey. It was a wonder she’d been able to function at all.

“When I think,” said her father, his voice thick with loathing, “how I welcomed that animal into my home—” He seemed unable to finish his thought, but he didn’t need to. That same thought had ricocheted around inside Willa’s own head since she’d left Wynn’s place. And to think she’d actually wanted to take their relationship to the next level. She gave an involuntary shudder.