Keeping Secrets in Seattle - By Brooke Moss Page 0,84
under the awning and stepped out into the rain.
“No, Nora. Everything isn’t okay.” My voice quavered.
Cameron’s head snapped up. He shot a glare at me just at Guthrie glanced at him.
“Is there a problem?” Guthrie asked in his mellow, former-hippie-turned-English-professor voice.
Cameron reached for the sliding glass door. “Not sure,” he said quickly. “Excuse me, I’m gonna hit the head.”
He hadn’t gained any class over the years. Cameron was the type that grabbed girls’ backsides so hard in the hallway between classes it left bruises and spit wads of phlegm in the drinking fountains at school. My mouth opened, and a thousand insults scrolled through my head like the billboards in Times Square, but not a word came out. I was apparently frozen and mute.
Nora frowned. She’d probably forgotten how much of a pig Cameron was. “Of course. Do you remember where it is?”
“Violet, are you all right?” Guthrie’s soft voice was almost drowned out by the rain.
The sound of a car coming to a screeching halt around the house sounded, and the slam from inside the Parkers’ house when Gabe walked in was so loud that it rattled the windows. Everyone on the porch went silent. Cameron stopped with the door halfway open as Gabe became visible through the glass, lumbering through the house with his fists at his side. As he powered toward the door, his face contorted into a grimace so livid, he looked like a different person. Gabe’s shoulder bumped a picture frame as he whisked through the kitchen, and it fell to the floor and shattered. He didn’t even slow down.
Nora reached to open the glass even further. “Gabriel, we were wondering—”
“You and I are going to talk!” Gabe shouted. His finger was just inches from Cameron’s face.
Cameron’s hands immediately went out, palms up. “Whoa. Dude. It’s nice to see you, too.”
Gabe backed Cameron against the deck railing, their puffed-up chests flush.
Guthrie put a hand on either of their shoulders, and his head went from left to right half a dozen times. “Calm down. What’s going on?”
Through the corner of his eye, Gabe spotted me, and in an instant his expression flashed to concern. “Vi? Are you okay?”
I finally found my voice, though it sounded like I was speaking while a vice clamped on my throat. “I’m fine.”
Cameron’s beady eyes bounced between Gabe’s face and mine. “You’ve got the wrong idea.”
Gabe grabbed his collar, jerking him up so they were eye to eye. Cameron scrambled on the tips of his toes, his arms going to the deck railing so that he didn’t fall backward. “Do I?” Gabe growled ferociously. “Do I, Cam?”
“Someone had better explain to me what the problem is right now.” Nora was using her authoritative lawyer tone, which typically indicated that she was about to lose her cool.
My vision tunneled, and all I saw was Gabe and Cameron, locked in some sort of pre-ass-kicking embrace. “I’ve got something to say.”
“Dude. I’m out of here,” Cameron said. Sweat glistened along his hairline, and rain soaked the arm of his shirt that hung out from under the awning. “What is your problem, man?”
Gabe jerked him by his collar, and Cameron slammed into the deck railing. It groaned under the force. “You’re my problem!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cameron’s voice was starting to sound panicked. Sure, he’d been a wrestling star in high school, but a career in journalism and four or five years behind a desk had made the difference between his, and Gabe’s six-foot-one frame, vast. He turned to Guthrie. “Get him off of me!”
“Did you honestly think I’d never find out?” The tendons in Gabe’s neck were taut as he gave Cameron another shove. “That she’d never tell me?”
The sound of Cam’s shoes shuffling on the wooden deck was almost as loud as the rain. He looked at me for the briefest of moments, and I saw an all-too-familiar rage covering his eyes like dark clouds. “That bitch is a liar.”
“How could you have done that to her? I loved her.” Gabe pulled Cameron’s face so close that just a few centimeters separated them. Cameron’s toes were now barely touching the deck floor as Gabe exuded vehemence that practically dripped off him. The veins in his arms bulged as he worked to hold the struggling Cameron in place and fend off his father’s arm at the same time. “How many other women have you hurt? Huh? How many other girls did you lock in your bedroom in high school?”