Chapter Sixteen #2
Her eyes almost bulge out of her head when the word detective leaves my mouth. Good, let her feel uneasy. Let her taste a fraction of the fear she made me live with on a daily basis.
"I wanted to meet you." Silas has to force out the words, his eyes fixed on my mother the entire time.
He slides his hand from my hip up my back, not stopping until his hand is gently gripping the back of my neck.
"I thought telling you in person that I'm going to make an honest woman out of your daughter was the respectful thing to do.
" He places a soft kiss on my temple, the gesture both protective and surprisingly sweet, makes me wish this wasn't just Silas putting on a show for my mother.
I watch his movements as he begins opening the takeout containers, the steam rising from the food. He makes a plate for each of us, carefully portioning the food onto the cheap paper plates that come with the meal. Together, we carry the plates and alcohol to the kitchen table.
We had never had a kitchen table until I salvaged this sad piece of furniture from the neighbor's garbage a few years back.
The man who lived beside us went to prison on a life sentence for killing his brother, who happened to be sleeping with his wife after he left for work every day.
The landlord put anything left behind in the house out on the curb in hopes it would be taken, and he wouldn't have to haul anything away.
The wood is water-stained and scratched, held level by a folded piece of cardboard under one leg.
It's still better than anything else in this house.
"Have a drink with us, Mom." I sit down at the table and pour the spiked vodka into a paper cup.
"I brought you your favorite vodka to celebrate.
" I slide the cup across the table towards her.
She hesitates, but only for a second, the siren call of free alcohol proves too strong.
She walks over taking the seat across from me, her shaking hands grab the cup and she downs the entire thing in one big gulp.
"Another," she demands, pushing her cup back towards me.
"Mom," I smile and pour her a second drink, but I don't slide the cup back towards her.
"Don't you think you should slow down a bit.
Have a nice meal with us and get to know Silas.
" I'm startled when Silas sits down beside me, placing a few limes and salt on the table in front of him, and I give him a questioning look.
"I decided you were right. We should properly celebrate this joyous occasion with body shots.
You know the rules," he slides my plate in front of me, "food first." He leans in close, his warm breath fanning across my ear, "If I have to endure much more of this insufferable cunt's voice without some serious chemical assistance, I'm going to down the bottle of vodka myself as an act of mercy.
I don't care how many people I've killed, no one should have to listen to her bullshit. "
"You're really embracing this whole son-in-law role, you're a natural."
His mouth drifts even closer, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin just below my ear.
"Eat quickly, Charlotte. The only thing that might make this tolerable is getting to trace my tongue along your skin to catch every grain of salt then washing it down with tequila.
The sooner we start, the sooner I can forget I'm sitting across from this waste of space. "
My thighs press together involuntarily beneath the table. I have to squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying desperately to ignore the effect he is having on me.
"Eat. Now."
"Yes, Sir," I breathe, unable to resist the urge to push his buttons.
He fixes a stern look that should intimidate me but only makes my stomach flutter. "Behave yourself."
I throw my head back, letting out a genuine laugh. "Not a chance. "
He shakes his head, taking a drink from the bottle of tequila before lowering himself into the chair beside me.
"Well, aren't you two just fucking disgusting together," my mother hisses, her lip curling in obvious distaste as she watches us.
"Mom—" I start to interject, but the words die in my throat as Silas smoothly slides the drink I'd poured across the table toward her. The liquid sloshing inside from the movement.
His smile is all predatory charm as he meets her glare. "Here, Sabrina, this should help make that attitude of yours go away. Quickly, if I'm lucky."
Mom just stares at him, her drug-abused brain missing the double meaning in his words. But I catch his meaning crystal clear, and I have to press my palm hard against my mouth to stop the giggle threatening to escape.
"Charlotte." My mother's voice drips with venom, drawing out each syllable like my name personally offends her just as much as my presence always has.
Her bloodshot eyes narrow as she looks between us, that familiar expression of contempt I've seen a thousand times before across her weathered face.
"I don't think I care much for your boyfriend. He's got a smart mouth on him."
Silas huffs out a laugh, his fingers curling around the bottle as he reaches across the table, filling mom's cup exactly halfway again.
"That just proves not everyone has good taste, Sabrina," he practically purrs, sliding the paper cup closer to her with two fingers.
"Please, drink up. We wouldn't want you getting parched. "
As I pick at my plate, I notice how uncomfortably rigid Silas is sitting. Almost like a statue, his back is ramrod straight, shoulders tense, maintaining a careful distance from every surface as if touching anything might contaminate him .
My eyes drift down to where he's meticulously laid a double layer of paper napkins across his chair, creating a barrier between himself and the old, dirty seat cushion. The sight is so absurdly fastidious, and so perfectly him , that I can't help but laugh.
"Is my childhood home not up to your standard of cleanliness?" I tease, gesturing at his makeshift seat cover.
His lips quirk up on one side, "Oh no, it's absolutely charming.
Your mother's really outdone herself with the whole ambiance she's created," he drawls out sarcastically as his eyes scan the filthy room.
"I'm just eagerly awaiting the welcoming committee.
Surely a resident cockroach or rat will make an appearance soon.
Afterall, a house doesn't really feel like a home without a pet. "
He leans in close; his whispered words meant only for me to hear.
"We should burn this dump down to the ground too.
Think of it as a public service. Taking out the trash, cleaning up the block…
Neighborhood beautification at its finest. Hell, they would probably give us a community service award just for the trash clean up alone. "
"How altruistic of you."
"Not all heroes wear capes, Princess." He pours more vodka into my mother's cup. "I'm just doing my small part to make the world a better place."
With each drink, her movements grow more sluggish, her words more slurred. I look at the bottle and see that Silas had given her more than I noticed. Over half the bottle is gone.
"Do you think she's had enough?" I don't bother being discreet with my question. Nothing will stop her from taking another drink at this point.
"I think she had enough three drinks ago." He pours more into her cup. She is drinking the vodka as fast as he is pouring it. "But who are we to deny your sweet mother a drink? Let her have as much as she wants."
I watch her head slowly start to droop, then snap back up just to begin to droop again.
"You know what's funny, Mom?" I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table.
"I used to dream about having family dinners here.
Just a normal meal where you actually acted like a mother.
" I dip a piece of chicken in gravy and take a bite.
"Instead, you were too busy getting high or drunk to even notice if I ate. "
"You ungrateful little bitch," she mumbles, her chin dropping to her chest. "I gave you everything." The words come out thick and slow.
"Everything?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You gave me to Corey to pay off your drug debt. That's what you gave me."
Her bloodshot eyes widen slightly at my words. "I didn't."
I keep my voice steady despite the rage burning in my chest. Rage that's been building for eighteen years. "Don't lie, Sabrina. Selling your own daughter to pay off a drug debt… That's a new low, even for you."
Her head lolls to the side as she struggles to focus on me. "He offered good money. More than you're worth."
Beside me, Silas's hand balls into a fist. I place my hand over his, feeling the tension thrumming through him.
"You know what the best part about having a detective for a boyfriend is?" I ask, conversationally as her head starts to droop once more. "He knows exactly how to make things look like accidents."
Her eyes open just enough that I can see the moment it finally registers what is happening to her and the danger she is really in. "You..." she slurs, trying to stand but stumbles backward, grabbing the chair to stay upright. "You little bitch."
"Careful now, those are some harsh last words. "
"I should have gotten rid of you when I had the chance. You're nothing but worthless trash. Always been more trouble than what you're worth."
The words have barely left my mother's mouth when Silas explodes into motion. One second he's beside me, the next he's launching himself over the table with frightening speed. The movement sending plates and food scattering across the dirty linoleum floor.
His large frame slams into my mother, her drugged-up body offering no resistance. They both crash to the ground, her head bouncing off the floor with a sickening thud. Silas already has a cushion ripped off one of the kitchen chairs before she even knows how she got on the floor.