Mutual Release (24 page)

Julie sank to the floor, unable to process what she’d been told. Until her body finally rejected the alcohol and she leaned over the toilet, retching until her throat ached and her ribs hurt. By the time she came out of the bathroom the apartment was empty.

Chapter Five

When the inevitable happened about three weeks later, Julie just nodded her head at her mother’s girlish glee and walked out of the room. Bart Hardin was to be her stepfather. They were moving out of this shitty apartment, one in a long line of them, and into his giant, hulking house on a hill overlooking a park. She could go to college; he would pay for wherever she got accepted. She was getting a car, a boat, a summer house on Lake Michigan, a fucking pony, and a house full of servants, caviar and champagne and whatever else. But all Julie heard was that she had to live under the same roof as the man who raped her with his eyes every time he was in the room with her. And her mother was convinced Julie was trying to seduce
him
?

She dialed Amy’s number and lay back on her single bed in the perfectly adequate room she would give anything to stay in, sending her mother away to live the life she always dreamed of with a big, strong, wealthy creep to take care of her. “Well, the deed is done,” she said when her friend answered.

“Really? You did it? When? Who? Did it hurt? Did you come? Tell me all about it.”

Julie groaned and put her hand over her eyes. “No, you bimbo. I didn’t have sex. Poor Nathan won’t even look at me anymore. I think my giant tits scared him or something. No, my mom. She is marrying the super jerk, Bart.”

Amy whistled. “Wow, you’ll be a member of the Hardin family. Big bucks there, my friend. Enjoy it. Make him buy you whatever you want by just batting your eyelashes.”

Julie shivered as she twirled the cord around her finger and rolled over to her stomach. “God. Gross. I told you about him. He is dying to get his nasty hands on me.”

“Yeah, but I think you’ll be okay. I mean you are a hot chick and all, but you’re only there a few more months. Milk it for all it’s worth, sister. I would.”

* * * *

The wedding was small, as befits a third for the groom and a first for his down-market employee. Julie and Amy sat and watched, giggling while Julie’s mother simpered and smiled and waved at the sparse crowd. Julie would have given anything to have enjoyed it. She knew her mother honestly believed this thing she’d just done would solve all their problems. But every time her new step-dad laid his beady eyes on her, she glared back at him.

Amy elbowed her over the champagne toasts. “Um, I think you should come live with me.”

Julie scoffed into her bubbly drink. “Oh sure, now you believe me.”

“Julie, I am not kidding.” Julie frowned and downed her drink, grabbing Amy’s to suck it back, as well. “I don’t like this. You’re my friend and I… don’t like the way he’s… Oh, hello there.”

Bart had appeared, looking somehow rumpled in an expensive tuxedo, his dark eyes darting around and taking in the crowd in the restaurant’s bar where they were hosting a small reception. He grabbed their empty glasses and refilled them, arching an eyebrow at Amy, who leaned away from him. Julie giggled. Bart shot her a funny look.

“Thanks for coming, Amy,” he said, putting on his sincere face.

Amy blinked. Julie sighed. The guy could flip the creep switch on and off so fast, it did take you by surprise the first few times.

“Oh, um, well, Mr. Hardin, I’m… um… Congratulations.” She raised her glass, clinked it to Julie’s and Bart’s, and they drank in awkward silence.

Julie’s heart pounded. This was going to be bad. She turned to Amy, who still had a shell-shocked look on her face at Bart’s hypnosis. “I may take you up on that, Amy.” She tried to get the girl to snap out of it.

“Huh?” Amy smiled when Bart, now handsome somehow, refilled her glass. “Oh, right, ha-ha,” she said, still mesmerized by Julie’s new stepfather.

“You are welcome to stay over anytime. I know you girls love your sleepovers and stuff. If you promise not to invite any boys, of course.” He raised an eyebrow and Julie nearly threw up on her shoes.

Amy blinked as the man moved away, glad-handing and pouring more champagne. Julie’s mother never even acknowledged she was in the room the entire time.

“Okay, Jules, I gotta go,” Amy said about an hour later. Julie was well towards drunk by then, wondering how the hell she would get home. She grabbed her friend’s arm.

“Don’t leave me with him. Please?” Panic had her throat in a vise. She gulped at Amy’s sympathetic look.

“Oh, I think he’s probably harmless. Just count the days, and spend the Hardin fortune. You can come over anytime. But I have a date tonight, so…” She did a little eyebrow dance. “Tom has promised to do the deed, although I think he’s more nervous than I am.”

“Great.” Julie flopped back into her chair, mad, jealous, and more than a little afraid of what awaited her now that the movers had boxed up her entire life and transferred it into the giant Hardin family mansion on the hill.

* * * *

To his credit, Bart Hardin was on his best behavior for at least a month, playing the role of benevolent stepfather to perfection. Then just as Julie was starting to relax and enjoy herself, driving her own car to school, never sweating the groceries or the rent money or anything that used to haunt her childhood days, something shifted.

She should have known better. Should never have accepted the offer of a date from no less than the slobbery kisser himself, Nathan Harrow. He’d been passing her notes in class, poking fun at their goofy drunken moment on the grass at the doomed party. Actually agreeing to go out with him was her first and ultimately catastrophic, mistake.

She’d gotten the full, painful, messy, and embarrassing de-flowering story from Amy. But somewhere in the middle of all that, Amy and Tom had gone and fallen in sick high-school love with each other and were inseparable. Tom tolerated Julie’s presence. He was a nice guy. But he was a guy, an eighteen-year-old one at that, who now had regular sex at his disposal and was not about to let Amy’s best friend get in the way of it too much.

The night of the first true date of her entire life, Julie was a sweaty, nervous wreck. Her mother was out, having taken over management of Hardin’s restaurant and never happier than when at the damn place. Julie sometimes wondered if she’d married Bart just for that, not for the Hardin fortune which, like many old money ones, had gotten tattered around the edges thanks to Bart’s stupid investments. He loved to remind Julie her future was secure. She could rest assured that her college money was there, even if she wanted to do something silly like go out of state. Luckily, even while her mother declared the whole concept preposterous, Julie had many teachers on her side, helping her fill out applications, getting her the app fee deferments, and writing killer essays. She’d applied to ten different colleges, three of them Ivy League, which she reminded Bart of more than once, making him scoff and whip out his bank statements as if in some kind of dick-measuring contest.

Nathan was due to pick her up at six. They were going to dinner and a movie. A real date, no fooling around, no parties, no cop raids. And Julie wished she could crawl under her bed and hide until it was over. She liked Nathan. He was funny, cute, and admitted his own failings like a champ. He was the “cool kid” hero of their senior class. Not the super jock or the super nerd but a strange combination of the two.

Julie bit her lip and stared into the mirror in her private bathroom, the one connected to her giant bedroom full of expensive furniture in the huge house where she’d tiptoed around her stepfather so long she’d forgotten how to walk like a normal person. She sighed, patted some powder on her face, applied mascara, ran the brush through her newly highlighted and smooth blond hair, with hands that boasted a fresh manicure. She spent a moment marveling at how she’d become such a sell-out in exchange for a few feminine luxuries.

“Julie!” Bart hollered up the steps. “Your date is here.”

Julie winced at the tightness in his voice. “All right. Coming.”

She grabbed a cardigan and yelped in surprise when she saw Bart filling the doorway, his brows furrowed. She could smell the beer fumes from across the room. Taking a long breath, she reminded herself of how normal he’d been since marrying her mom, how non-threatening, supportive even. But she sensed the reappearance old predatory Bart now, and her skin pebbled with fear.

She squared her shoulders and started for the door. He didn’t move. “Did you let him in?” she asked, trying to keep the quaver out of her question.

He frowned again. She smiled, hoping to defuse whatever scene he thought he could make. “Yeah,” he growled, moving a bit to the side as if to let her pass. “He’s in the study.” Just as she was trying to ease past him in the small space he left her, his hand shot out and gripped her wrist so hard she cried out.

“Ow, Bart.” She tried not to beg him to let her go. She squared her shoulders, drew on some hidden reserve of strength. “Let go of me.” Their eyes met. She refused to look away. He narrowed his gaze, gave her wrist one last painful squeeze.

“Don’t let him… take advantage of you,” he said in barely a whisper.

She tried not to spit in the man’s face. His ratty eyes were dark, and he oozed the scary and familiar raptor vibe she’d associated with him for so long. She slid back into frightened victim mode so fast it startled her.

A sudden realization hit her so hard she nearly stumbled when he let her go. A rush of irrational power filled her chest, making her smile, cock her head as if flirting with the disgusting man. Her first real taste of the control she had over the opposite sex was a buzz, and she let it fuel her next ill-considered words.

“Oh, I plan on it, Bart, as a matter of fact,” she tossed over her shoulder, putting as much distance between them as she could while making a beeline for the study and relative safety with Nathan. As she skipped lightly down the long mahogany steps, the words came trippingly off her tongue. “I’m gonna give it up to him tonight, Bart. You lose. Hey, Nathan!” she called out.

A calculated move, and one that backfired on her later with a vengeance.

Chapter Six

By the time the movie was over, Julie had decided Nathan was either gay or she smelled bad. The guy had not made any kind of a move all night. They’d shared a nice Tex-Mex meal, used their fake IDs to obtain a couple of margaritas, and headed for the movies right on time, nothing but moderately awkward conversation between them.

She sighed as he opened his car door and handed her in. She decided to use her tequila-fueled courage to turn it up a notch. Her plans were set. She needed this boy to step the fuck up.

They sat, sharing a bucket of greasy popcorn between them, in the ancient dance of handholding, groping, and purposefully casual movie-watching. But Julie needed something more. And Nathan was not giving it up.

Desperation started to sneak in, color her vision. She blew out a puff of air at one point towards what she assumed was the end of the interminable movie she couldn’t even name. He kept leaning in to whisper to her, kiss her neck, then move back to his seat, staring at the flickering screen. She sighed, slumping down, never more aware of her virginity, the one thing she needed rid of, if only to put Bart off her scent.

* * * *

They sat in her stepfather’s driveway, trying to make the best of a tough moment. Julie was convinced Nathan couldn’t stand her, was eager to get away, to escape. She didn’t really blame him.

He put a long arm over her shoulders, leaned in close. Julie prepared herself for the donkey kiss, the tongue, the nasty weed-tasting lips. But he surprised her. His lips were soft, his touch gentle. He put a hand to her face. “I’m sorry, Julie,” he whispered into her neck.

She sighed. “Don’t be. I was drunk, high, whatever. Let’s start over.” She smiled into his lovely eyes and willed him to read her mind. Putting her hand on his thigh, she tried to arrange her face into a “fuck me” look. But he frowned and shifted away from her, using the excuse of opening the door and climbing out to get away from her touch.