Sidewalk Flower (45 page)

He whispered to her.
 
“Trissy baby, God, I’m so sorry.
 
I don’t know how to get us out of this.
 
I can’t hurt you.
 
I don’t know…”

“Jaxon, you have to.
 
They’ll rape me and probably shoot us if you
don’t.”
 
He was shocked she could still
think and speak.
 
Her jaw trembled under
the protection of his palm.
 
“Just do it
and get it over with and maybe they’ll leave us alone.”
 
The look on her face forgave him for what he
had to do.
 

“Come on, now!”
 
J.D. hollered.

“Now wait, J.D., give him a minute.
 
A little kissin’ might be what the faggot
needs to get his pecker goin’.” Sam’s disgusting tribute to his painstakingly
slow approach silenced J.D.

Touching his forehead and nose to
Trissy’s, he whispered over and over how sorry he was.
 
As his body hung over hers, he closed his
eyes and tried to picture them someplace else.
 
Maybe a time and a life where they might have ended up
lovers.
 
But all he could see was
the kindness, loyalty and sacrifice she’d shelled out for him over the
years.
 
She was a beautiful girl, soft
skin, curls in her honey blonde hair that fell in pieces down the sides of her
face.
 
Eyes that made the truth flow out
of his soul whenever she locked them in on him.
 
He tried to think of her as one of his conquests.
 
He needed more.
 
His mind wouldn’t be deceived with just these
thoughts.
 

He leaned down to press his lips to
hers.
 
Shared fears kept their eyes
open.
 
He deepened his kiss.
 
Her lips went tight, jerking him out of the
mood he was trying desperately to contrive.
 
“Shhh, it’ll be over soon,” he promised her blindly.
 
He had both hands now at the sides of her
face in an attempt to block her peripheral view.
 
A drop of his blood fell, leaving her cheek
stained.
 
She took in a shallow breath
and let it back out.
 
He tried the kiss
again.
 
Meanwhile, their audience slammed
at his silent shield with disgusting insults.
 

“This is taking too long, Sam.
 
He doesn’t even have her panties off
yet.
 
He’s dicking around, I’m tellin’
you.”
 

This time, Sam didn’t warn J.D. for his
impatience.
 
Coming from just a couple
feet behind him, slime coated Sam’s words.
 
“You look like you need some help, freak.”
 
With the rifle now aimed at his head, Sam
ordered Trissy’s panties to be removed.
 
J.D. gave him a sneer and then took out a pocket knife, cutting into the
silk band that rested on her hip.
 
He
then ripped his knife through the other side, stealing the fabric out from
under her backside and tucking her torn underwear into his shirt pocket.
 
“All right then, you have exactly five
minutes.”

He tried to expel the threat from his
mind.
 
But it really was now or
never.
 
He had to somehow get himself
hard and get this done.
 
He’d spend the
rest of eternity apologizing and making it up to her.
 
He closed his eyes and pictured Vangie
splayed out beneath him.
 
He felt the
pain inside him that she stroked with her vengeance, the thing she called love
that he knew was far from it.
 
He undid
his zipper and tried to conjure up the filthy dark part of him that had played
with countless girls after shows backstage.
 

He buried his head in the thin lace strap
that fell between her breasts, silently begging for forgiveness as her chest
heaved slowly up and down.
 
He thanked
the heavens she hadn’t passed out yet.
 

“Jaxon, what can I do?”

Nothing, he didn’t want her to do
anything.
 
He would bare this burden for
them both but her words yanked him back out of the dark hole he had to crawl in
to for this to work.
 
Her touch would
only serve to remind him of what he was about to do.
 

“Just close your eyes and go someplace
safe, baby girl.”
 
After he watched her
eyes close, he again went to the thoughts of all the women he’d screwed over
the years.
 
The sexy,
slutty ones who’d thrown themselves at him.
 
The naïve, innocent ones he’d lured in, if
only to figure out how far they would actually go in their dares.
 

He couldn’t get hard.
 

Not like this, not with Trissy.
 

He was gonna fail her.
 
He covered her body with his in a last ditch
effort to seal her from the approaching stomp of Sam and his leaches.
 
She lay still, silent.

Chapter
Twenty-Nine

Trista’s mind stumbled, searching for a
safer time and place…

“
Mama,
how come Lily and Jack don’t have to cook or clean?
 
It’s always me.
 
Do you love them more?
 
‘
Cause
they’re
daddy’s and I’m not?”

“Trista
Jeane, that
is enough of that crazy talk.
 
You know I don’t love any of you kids more or
less; I love you all the same.
 
I need
your help because you’re a big girl and they’re too little yet.
 
Besides, I like spending this time with
you.
 
Don’t you, honey?
”
 
She saw herself as a young girl, holding up
the edge of a lemon-colored corner of fabric, helping feed it to her
mother
 
at
the sewing
machine.
 

“Yes, Momma.
 
I
do.
 
This is gonna be a real pretty
dress.
 
Yellow’s my
favorite
.”

Concentrating on the warmth she
remembered of the moment, she could almost feel her momma patting the top of
her tangled golden curls.

“I know,
baby, now be careful, I don’t want you gettin’ your finger threaded in there.”

“Yes, Momma.”

“I love you,
baby girl
.”

Her mom paused from guiding the hem
through the machine.
 
Young Trista beamed
proudly at the encouraging glance from Momma that she could take over.
 
Her mother’s rosy cheeks and curly hair
reminded her of what she had hoped to be when she grew up and became a lady.

“I love you
too, Momma
.”
 

. . .

“Trista, is
Momma gonna be okay?
 
She looked real
scared.
 
Why can’t we ride with her?
 
I wanna ride with her and hold her hand.”

Her little half-sister, Lily, sat close
to her side in the back of their family’s station wagon.

“Lily, hold my hand, okay?
 
Is that
better?
 
All right.
 
Momma’s going to the hospital and the doctors
are gonna take care of her.
 
We’ll see
her after they make her better.
 
Daddy’s
driving right behind the ambulance, see?
 
Jack, hold Lily’s other hand please.”
 

The two half-siblings had been a
wonderful part of her childhood, until Momma had died.

. . .

“Daddy?
 
Daddy?
 
Why can’t I come?
 
I don’t want to sleep alone.
 
It’s scary without Trista in here.”

After her mom’s death, her safe place
vanished.
 
She didn’t want these thoughts
that came to her now.

“Hush,
buttercup.
 
You go back to sleep.
 
Trista will be back, she just has to do some
chores.
 
Okay?
 
You know your momma is an angel up in heaven,
always watching over you.
 
There’s
nothing to be afraid of here in your room.
 
Now back to sleep.”
 
The
voice lied.
 

She tried desperately to force her mind
away from this place.
 
But she couldn’t.

“Okay,
Daddy.
 
I love you.
 
Tell Trista I said good night please.”

“I will, baby
doll.
 
Good night.
”
 

She remembered scrambling back to her room
for fear of being caught listening at her siblings’ door while her stepfather
spewed his lies.

. . .

“
Trista,
what are you doin’ out here?
 
Daddy’s
blisterin’ mad lookin’ all over the place for you.
 
Your dress is all wet.
 
Are you crying?
 
What’s a matter, Tris?”
 

She saw beautiful little Lily, completely
unaware of the torture her big sister kept hidden.

“Shh, Lily.
 
I don’t
want to talk about it right now.
 
Please
promise me you won’t tell Daddy where you found me.
 
Okay?
 
Promise?”
 
She
pinned her down with a stern yet pleading look.

“Okay, I
promise.
 
But you better get home.”

“Lily, swear
you won’t tell him?”
 
They
were older now, but still children and she had hoped her little sister would
keep the promise.
 
It had been a lot to
ask of a nine-year-old.

“
I
swear, Trista, on Momma’s grave, I swear.”
 
She remembered Lily criss-crossing an x-pattern over her heart.
 
It was the last fond memory she had of her
little sister.

Lily knew nothing of the man she called
Daddy.
 
But for this, Trista was and always
had been grateful.

. . .

“
Frederick
Elstone, this will be the last time you ever see that girl.
 
You hear me?
 
You should be locked in jail and have the key thrown away, at the very
least.
 
If I could, I’d take Lily and
Jack, too.
 
You know I would, you filthy,
sick man. I don’t know what Jeanette ever saw in you.
 
Now get out of my way or I’ll have the cops
back here quicker than pigs on grits.”

The strong, rapturous voice of Gramma was
a lifeline she held onto as she waded through the thickness of these memories.

. . .

Stumbling forth in time, she had finally
reached a place of security.

“Trista
Jeane, Trista Jeane?
 
Wake up, hun.
 
We’re here.
 
You need to get your studyin’ done and then help me with settin’ up.
 
You take the soda fountain and I’ll heat up
the grills
.”
 
Gramma was already bustling around though she
hadn’t actually left the truck yet.
 
She
tried desperately to hold onto this place.
 

“Yes, ma’am.
 
Gramma,
where are we?”
 

“Fort Smith, dear.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Don’t you
worry, sweet pea.
 
I promised you we’d
never make any stops in Duketown and I meant it.
 
Your gramma doesn’t make a promise she won’t
keep.”
 
True to her word, Gramma had never pulled
their travelling diner anywhere near the town, and they rarely ever mentioned
it by name.

“
I
love you, Gramma.
 
Thank you
.”

“
All
right now, we’ve got a busy night ahead of us so let’s get this diner set
up.
 
Lessons first
though.”
 

“Yes, ma’am.”

. . .

She recalled the bittersweet way her
gramma’s face shone with both pride and fear as she left her childhood to the
past.