she had. It had given her the power to realize she could choose her life. She could move forward, leave this behind, and stop letting it have power over her.
She could stop being afraid of it sneaking up to pull the rug out from under her carefully constructed lie.
But first she had to face it. She had to face them.
So last night on that red-eye flight, she’d made decisions. She was sick of her past defining her future. She was sick of hiding Star Smith under thirteen years of lies. She was sick of blaming herself for the things that had been done to her. She was sick of apologizing and covering things up and hiding.
Yes, she was dead sick of hiding.
Jess pulled up in front of the trailer and stepped out of the car before she could lose her nerve. Then she leaned back in for the pepper spray she’d piled on top of her jeans and tee shirts at Walmart. She was mad and she was committed, but she wasn’t stupid. She had no idea who might be behind that door these days.
With leaden legs, she made her way up to the tiny porch, stepping over a bin of Old Milwaukee cans. A white plastic chair with three legs sat propped against the wall of the trailer, and she paused for a strange moment, wondering how anyone sat in it without falling right off the rickety little porch.
She faced the door, took a deep breath, and knocked.
First there was silence. Then she heard shuffling steps come toward the door.
“Who is it?” The voice was creaky, smoke stained, older than her nightmares.
“It’s Je—” She took a breath, lifted her chin, squared her shoulders. “It’s Star.”
The inside door whipped open, and behind the screen stood Roxie, dressed in the same robe Jess remembered from high school. Her bloodshot eyes skated up and down Jess’s body while her mouth worked its way into a fake smile. “Well, if it ain’t you.” She called over her shoulder. “Luanne! Get out here! You’ll never believe who’s here.”
Jess waited uneasily while Luanne came out from somewhere down the hall. Behind Roxie, the trailer looked like time had stood still. The same yellow glass ashtray sat on the Formica table, still overflowing with butts. The same cuckoo clock was still a little off-kilter on the wall, and probably still hadn’t been wound since Jess was ten.
The same Luanne came to the door. Only not really the same at all.
Jess almost stepped backward in shock when she saw her aunt. Instead of the jet-black hair and coral lipstick she’d always sported, her hair had gone silvery, sparse. Where her body had always carried about twenty extra pounds, it had now gone rail thin under her T-shirt and leggings. Her mouth looked pinched and old, especially when she worked her features around to mimic Roxie’s version of a smile.
“Well, well, well. Who’d believe it?”
“You want to come in?” Roxie raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow.
“No, thank you.”
Roxie crossed her arms and looked through the screen, left and right at the other trailers. “Not sure this is the best place to talk, if you know what I mean. Why don’t you come in?”
“I don’t have a lot to say, so it’ll be fine.” Jess was never, ever going to cross that threshold again, certainly not by choice. She gathered her words, anxious to be gone, but also focused on being clear enough that she’d never have to come back here again.
Luanne’s eyes narrowed. “Assume you’re here to talk about the money?”
“I am.”
Jess didn’t miss the superior look that passed between the two of them.
“Okay.” Roxie lifted her chin. “We’re listening. You thought about what we said?”
“I have.”
“So you’re going to share your little windfall, then? So we don’t have to—take drastic measures?” Again with the eyebrow. Jess fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“I’m not afraid of your—drastic measures, Roxie.”
“You don’t say?” Roxie turned toward Luanne, a sneer overtaking the benign smile. “She’s not afraid, Luanne.”
“She says that now. We’ll see what she says from a ten-by-ten cell. Maybe then she’ll be afraid, eh?” Luanne let out one of her gravelly laughs, then had to cover her mouth while she coughed.
“I’ve already been to the police. And I know now that Billy’s going to spend the rest of his life behind bars. Your threats don’t hold water, I’m afraid.”
Jess saw her mother’s shoulders fall, but at the same time, her bony chin hiked up in defiance. “They weren’t threats.