me there.”
His dark eyes are troubled and he starts to rise. “I’ll go with you.”
“No.” She kisses him. “No. I’ll be back soon.”
The smoke smell is stronger outside. Ren walks slowly, pausing on the porch of the brothel. The wind plays havoc with her hair and darkens her vision with dust. But in the west, toward the mountains, she thinks she sees a faint orange glow. It could be a brush fire or it could be the last gasp of the vanishing sun. It’s impossible to tell.
Why does she feel like she is being slowly choked from the inside? Every step toward the house is more difficult to take than the last one. She tells herself there is no reason to feel this way. Yes, it was her mother’s face at the window, her mother’s cold eyes of loathing, but there is nothing Lita can do to her. If she tries, Ren will convince Oscar that they have no choice but to leave, authorities and tabloids be damned.
The porch light is dark and she fumbles for the doorknob. The pickup truck is still gone, meaning Monty has not returned. For all their differences, Ren would rather have Monty around right now. No matter how much he despises Oscar, he would never stand still and allow Lita to hurt her. Ren has no such faith in her father.
At first the house is silent and Ren breathes with relief. She tiptoes past the front room and takes a right turn down the hall towards the bedroom she shares with her sisters. Suddenly she wants very much to be where they are.
A door opens at her back and light splashes the dark corridor. “Loren,” says her father. “Come here please.”
Ren tries to calm her quickening pulse as she turns around and cautiously enters her father’s study. She has never been frightened of her father in her life and she isn’t afraid of him now. But when she sees Lita sitting in a leather armchair with her legs crossed, a triumphant smile on her lips, Ren can hardly breathe.
She can’t do anything to me. She can’t do anything if I don’t let her.
Ren crosses her arms and stares straight ahead as August closes the heavy door at her back. That’s when Lita unexpectedly rises, crosses the room, and with the strength of a man strikes Ren across the face so hard her ears ring with the echo.
“You fucking whore,” Lita spits.
Ren barely notices the pain. There is just the shock of being hit. Her nose feels funny and when she touches it with her fingers they come away bloody. She inhales hard, levels a loathing stare at the woman who gave her life and says with stark clarity, “You goddamn bitch.”
“Stop it,” August demands but there’s no authority in his voice. Only exhaustion. “Goddamn it, both of you. Stop.”
“Gladly,” Ren says and turns to leave the room. Whatever these people need to talk about, they can do it without her. She needs to find Oscar. She needs to let him know that remaining in Atlantis is no longer an option.
Lita tears past August and blocks Ren’s exit. “You’re going nowhere. Not tonight. Not ever.” She shakes her head as her silver earrings catch the soft light of the Tiffany lamp on August’s desk. “I knew you were a loser, Loren. I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Enough!” August actually raises his voice this time. “Lita, you’ve crossed the line.”
Lita throws him a withering look. “Oh, be quiet, old man. You might strain a vocal chord pretending you care.”
Ren clenches her fists. If Lita wants a fight she can have one. “Get the hell out of my way you poisonous cunt.”
Her mother seems merely amused. “Trashy little words from a trashy little girl. My god, I always figured you for a pathetic fool but assumed you would know enough not to slut it around with the gutter rat your crazy aunt kept for a pet.”
Ren closes her eyes, wishes to be somewhere else, anywhere else. “What is it that bothers you, Lita? That I’m with someone you consider inappropriate? Or that I’ve found something you’ve never had?”
“Oh,” Lita says softly as her smile returns. “I guess it’s time you heard. Loren my dear, sweet, supremely idiotic child, I’ve had everything you’ve had. Only I had it first.”
That’s what Brigitte meant. It’s not true. It’s not even in the same hemisphere as the truth.
“If you think I’ll believe that you’re more vile