Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
Linnea
Ihurry to the bus stop, thankful I don’t have long to wait before it arrives and doubly thankful that Mom’s at work. I have absolutely no doubt Reggie will be lying in wait at the house for me, but I plan to outsmart him.
He won’t hang around all day. Too many other dodgy deals to make.
Too many payments to collect either by way of cold, hard cash, a beating, or sexual favors.
One thing I know for sure is Reggie loves his job, and that works in my favor.
I can almost picture him tapping his foot impatiently, checking his wristwatch every few minutes.
Well, he can wait all he likes - which he won’t - I'm not going back there, not today. Well, not until much later on, anyway.
The bus lurches forward, and I slump into my seat, letting out a shaky breath.
My heart aches, along with my bruised cheek, a dull throb that won't go away no matter how I try to distract myself.
Stupid, stupid girl. How could I have been so naive?
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing away the image of Sir's cold eyes, his dismissive tone as he cast me aside like yesterday's trash.
I don't even know his real name. That thought hits me like a punch to the gut, and I have to swallow hard against the lump in my throat. All this time, all those moments I thought were special... and, yeah, I don't even know his name.
That should have been a big, fat flag, waving in front of me and reminding me not to give away the emotional parts of myself he was never interested in.
To remind me it was only ever my body and my submission he wanted from me, not my feelings.
My hopes and fears. My… no, I don’t want to call it love.
But it was something.
A tiny seed that germinated and was nourished under his brutal, freeing hand. And now it’s broken, crushed and trampled under his heavy boot.
Stupid, stupid girl.
You didn’t give him your name, either.
I almost laugh out loud at the thought that pops into my head, my subconscious trying to find yet more ways to absolve the man who’s come to mean far too much to me over the past eighteen days.
Is that really all it is?
No, I didn’t give him my real name. But I did give him something to call me by, which is more than I got from him.
And I liked being Juno. It was a relief to be someone else for a little while; a girl without a tragic past or an uncertain future.
Juno - the Roman goddess who is said to protect women and represent battling through adversity to protect family, while still maintaining dignity and strength. That’s why I chose it.
What a fucking laugh.
But it was better than a distancing, generic ‘Sir’.
The bus rumbles on, carrying me further from him, from the hope I’d started believing in, and closer to Reggie and his threats.
I shake my head like I can shake off the thoughts. I wish it were that easy.
But what I really need to do is make a plan to get out of this mess we’re in.
First, I need to get to mom. Tell her the truth. Tell her I believe Dad was murdered by the mob for not paying his debts, and that the same will happen to us - or worse - if we don’t find the money, which is impossible now, or just disappear.
I’ve protected her from it all this time, but I can’t do it anymore, because I have to leave, and I can’t do that without her.
The bus lurches to a stop, jolting me from my thoughts. I blink, realizing we've reached the end of the line. With a sigh, I haul myself up and stumble off onto the sidewalk.
My feet automatically carry me to Mom's workplace, a dingy diner on the outskirts of town.
The neon sign flickers weakly in the grey afternoon light.
What had started as a beautiful day has clouded into something dull and overcast with black storm clouds brewing.
Fitting; almost like it reflects the aspects of my life today.
Through the smudged windows, I can see her shuffling between tables, coffee pot in hand.
Tears well in my eyes. She shouldn’t be doing this. She’s still not fully recovered from her cancer treatments, but she’s aware of the debts… some of them, at least.
For a moment, I hesitate. How can I burst her bubble of blissful ignorance about dad’s dealings with the mob? I know she’ll feel guilty. He borrowed the money for her, so she could get treatment and live. But there's no choice now. We're in too deep.
The bell jingles as I push open the door. Mom looks up, her smile faltering as she takes in my appearance.
"Linnea? What are you doing here, honey? And what happened to your face? Did someone at your new job do this to you?" Anger clouds her face. Yeah, I told her I had a temporary live-in post that paid well, which was true enough.
I have no idea what she’ll think if I tell her what I was really doing. I never want her to know I sold myself and my soul to get us out of trouble. Telling her about dad will be bad enough.
I force a wan smile. "Can we talk? It's important."
She frowns, glancing at the mostly empty diner. "Give me five minutes to clock out. My shift is already over."
Which means she was picking up a bit of overtime to try and help out, especially since I haven’t been at home to make sure she doesn’t overdo it.
Those five minutes stretch like eternity as I perch on a cracked vinyl stool, drumming my fingers drumming on the discolored but spotlessly clean counter. I’m a bag of nerves. Does Reggie know where Mom works?
My heart thuds heavily, dread filling me at the conversation to come. How do I even begin to explain everything?
Finally, Mom hangs up her apron and grabs her purse. "Alright, honey. Let's go."
We step out into the gloomy afternoon. The air feels leaden, matching the weight in my chest. Mom loops her arm through mine as we walk, the contact both comforting and guilt-inducing.
"So, what's this all about?" she asks gently. "And don't think I've forgotten about that bruise. Who hurt you?"
I take a deep breath. "Mom, there's... there's a lot I need to tell you. About Dad, about our debts. About why I've really been gone these past weeks."
She stops walking, her clasp on my arm tightening. "Linnea, you're scaring me. What's going on?"
I glance around nerves getting the better of me, acutely aware of how exposed we are on the street. "Not here," I say. "Let's go somewhere private."
She frowns. “Let’s just go home, we can talk in private there…”
“No!” She flinches at my sharp denial, and I die a little inside as I see real fear echo in her tired eyes.
We end up beside a small stream nearby, sitting on a secluded bench beneath a drooping willow tree.
The branches sway gently in the breeze, creating a curtain of green that shields us from prying eyes and makes me feel a modicum of safety, which I doubt is real, but I cling to regardless.
I close my eyes, just for a second, steeling myself for what's to come.
"Mom, I need you to listen carefully and try not to interrupt," I begin, my voice little more than a whisper. "What I'm about to tell you is going to be hard to hear, but we don't have much time."
She nods, her face pale with worry. I can see the questions burning in her eyes, but she remains blessedly silent.
"Dad, he… he…" Fuck I don’t want to tell her this.
“He what, Linnea?” my mom prompts, her voice soft and hesitant. “Tell me.”
"He got involved with some dangerous people. The mob. He borrowed money from them." I finally admit, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
Mom gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. "Nooo!” She lets out a mournful cry. “Why would he do that?”
She knows what this means.
“He did it to pay for your treatments,” I tell her, hoping to soften the blow, all the while hating myself for the pain I'm causing her. "And now they're after us for the money. That's why I've been gone. I've been... trying to earn enough to reimburse them."
Her eyes narrow. “What did you do?” she demands, surprising me with her insistence. “Did they…?” She touches a gentle hand to my cheek, and I know what she’s thinking.
I clasp her hand in my own and squeeze. “No, no, nothing like that.” Although that will come next. We both know it. “I’ve been working through a specialist agency for a wealthy man as his… maid.”
Something flickers in her expression, like she knows, but I can't bring myself to verbalize the truth about what I've been doing. The shame burns through me. I can't let her know how far I've fallen. Literally.
“Linnea…” She pulls me into a tight embrace, and I can feel her trembling, but I pull back, wiping my eyes, and rush on before she can say anything.
"There's more, Mom. We're in danger. Real danger. These people, they don't mess around. I think..." I close my eyes, forcing the words out. "I think they might have killed Dad."
She goes still, her face draining of color. "What?"
"His 'suicide'... I don't think it was intentional at all.”
“I knew he’d never take the coward’s way out,” she whispers, almost to herself, as she stares at nothing. “I knew he’d never leave us to fend for ourselves without an income after he remortgaged the house.”
She’s right. I always believed that, too. Dad did so much for both of us. Hell, he borrowed from the mob to give Mom a chance at life. He would never have deserted us when we needed him most.
She turns to me with a fire in her eyes I haven’t seen since before she got sick. “What happened with your job?” she asks astutely. I should have known she would.
I sigh. “The enforcer guy who collects payment for the mob saw me in the swanky neighborhood where I was working and followed me back to my employer’s house.”
“What did he do?” she growls, going all mama bear. It fills some of the cold places inside me.
I purse my lips. “He wanted me to steal for him, and when I refused, he got angry, threatened me… and then the guy I worked for arrived home and misread the situation, so he threw me out. Reggie was waiting outside when I left,” I tell her, running my fingers over my bruised cheek.
“I got lucky. The doorman chased him off, but he’ll be looking for me. They'll be after us now, so we need to leave, Mom. Tonight. We need to sneak back home after dark in case they’re waiting for us there, pack the essentials, then just put a pin in a map and drive "
Mom’s shoulders heave, and she lets out a broken sob. Curling my arm around her, I give her what comfort I can. “I know it’s hard to leave our home, Mom, but it’s better than paying with our lives, like dad did.”
Or our bodies.
Mom shakes her head. “It’s not that. The car was repossessed while you were away. We have no vehicle.”
A cold, wet dread seeps through my lungs as the one and only escape plan I'd come up with - my single, solitary lifeline - vanishes before my eyes.
The air grows dense, pressing down around me like a suffocating blanket, stealing my breath. As if from a great distance, I hear the brittle snap of a dry branch breaking as a squirrel scurries through the tree, and the fragile remnants of my hope shatter with it.
My mind spins. The car was supposed to be our shelter, our refuge. Not just a vehicle to get us from A to B, but somewhere to sleep, to shield from the elements, to store the remaining dregs of our life inside.
I try to think of a new plan, anything at all, but my mind flattens out as blank and dead as the grey sky above at this latest setback.
When the hell will we ever get a break? What the fuck did we do in a past life to deserve all this?
Mom's head droops, her shoulders collapsing inward, like every bitter disappointment of the last decade has chosen this exact moment to press down on her.
For a second, I think I'll collapse right alongside her.
Sink into the hard, splintering wood of the park bench, let the world and its problems pile on until I'm compressed to dust. The urge to fold, to lose myself in her despair, beckons.
But something else, something ugly and stubborn, rises up in its place.
No. I can't let this be the end. If I do, then Dad really did die for nothing, and all the hurt and humiliation I've suffered so far is wasted. I grit my teeth and force my spine straight, blinking away the tears that want to overwhelm me.
I will not curl into a ball. I will not give up. I will take every punch the universe throws at us, and then I'll claw my way back up through the dross and detritus to find a way to keep us alive and safe.
We can buy bus tickets to get out of here, but there’s no money for motels, and we’d need to leave everything behind, all the mementoes of our lives. Photo albums, trinkets, all the little things that mean so much. But if that’s what it takes, then by god, I’ll do it.
I gather Mom up in my arms, steady her shaking with my own. "We'll find another way. We'll figure something out," I promise, and I mean it.
She nods, lip wobbling, but her eyes flicker with that faint, familiar fire again, and I know she’s on board, so I cling to that spark, even if it's just an ember. We sit like that for a minute, listening to the wind and the far-off sound of traffic, while I start making a mental list.
I pull back from Mom and squeeze her hand.
"Listen, tonight we sneak back to the house, keep to the shadows, and pack only what we can carry.
We leave again through the back door and cut through the old golf course—nobody patrols there anymore.
We'll get as far as we can on foot, then figure out step two. Okay?"
Mom nods again, her eyes wide and terrified, and I worry this is all too much for her health, but her jaw is set, and it’s better than the alternative. That really would kill her. At least this way there’s a chance.
"Okay, honey. Whatever you say."
I try to smile, but it comes out crooked, more grimace than reassurance.
Still, it's enough to keep us moving. I stand and help her up, brushing dirt and dead willow leaves from her sweater, and together we shuffle out of the park, every step heavy with the knowledge that every man we pass could be watching for us.
But I will not break. I will do whatever it takes, and the world will have to go through me to get to her.
A dark, sleety drizzle starts to fall, stinging my cheeks as we make our way to the bus stop. The next phase begins now. Get home, get out, get gone.
Far away from the man I’ve known for such a short amount of time, but who has had such a profound effect on me.
The man I stupidly allowed to shatter my heart. At least with everything else going on, I don’t have time to dwell on that.