Chapter 7
7
DULCE
“ Y ou know Ford Keller, and you didn’t tell me?” Katie asks as soon as Danny and Ford go outside.
“I don’t know him,” I deny, pretty sure she can hear the lie in my voice. “We went to the same high school.”
She looks doubtful. Then her eyes widen in horror as I pull the wad of money from the tip jar. “You’re not giving that back. It’s not like he has trouble keeping the lights on.”
I drop it back in the jar grudgingly.
She cleans out the coffee machine. “He is so hot,” she says with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Don’t you think he’s hot?”
I check the orders for the day on the tablet, and my tone is informal. “I have eyes.”
“The way he looked at you… Jesus…”
I almost drop the tablet. “What are you talking about?” I ask, confused.
She grins and lowers her voice so the two ladies don’t overhear. “Ford Keller wants you.”
I shake my head. “No, he doesn’t.”
I’m the last thing he wants. Right?
“He isn’t the only one. Officer Mays wants to marry you, I think. He definitely wants to fuck you.”
“Katie,” I scold, but my cheeks flush, looking over at the two ladies still seated at the small table. I’m glad they’re engrossed in their phones, probably posting that they spotted celebrity race car driver Ford Keller.
“That is the last thing that crossed my mind.”
She grins. “Well, you should.”
I look up like I didn’t hear her. “Should what?”
This town is full of gossip about shit that’s nobody’s business. Katie thinks she is playing matchmaker, but she has no idea how evil the people here are. If they want to keep you quiet, they will. They’re all liars, and you can’t trust anyone.
I had my heart in my throat the whole time Danny and Ford were both here, having a silent stare off like two wild animals ready to fight.
One man wants me to be someone I can’t, and the other is the reason I can’t be that person.
I couldn’t help the feeling of fear and anxiety churning in my stomach. I didn’t plan on giving Danny all that food. It was supposed to be a homemade bagel and a coffee.
Four years ago, I fell for their little game and paid for it in blood. Does he know what his friends did to me? He had to be a part of it somehow, right? How else did they get my number?
The truth is, I want to put it past me, but as much as I try, I can never seem to stop hating him.
Ford shows up in my dreams, nightmares, and now my bakery. Since he left, I try to avoid seeing or hearing about him as much as possible. I ignored him on the news. Changed the channel when any of his races would pop up. I tried to tell myself he was just another celebrity on social media and TV. A person you know based on what they did in front of the world.
I don’t know why he’s come back, but I’m pretty damn sure it’s not to apologize to me or try to make amends.
“He’s been around,” Katie says, scrolling through her phone. “Models, socialites, fans. Different women. Different countries.”
“Good to know. I’ll make sure I don’t touch him with my hands.”
“Why not?” she asks with a smile, her voice lifting at the edges, but her eyes tell me she is curious to know why.
My head snaps up, and I meet eyes the color of blue glass not realizing Ford walked inside. Ignoring the way my insides flip every time he looks at me.
“I wouldn’t want to catch anything,” I say, playing it cool.
Ford smiles, causing my heart to race. “I’m clean.”
“If you say so. What would you like to order? I’m running behind,” I say impatiently.
“Are you working on something new?”
“No,” I say a little too quickly.
I always am, but I’m not doing this with him right now. It’s been so long since I’ve been near him, and I don’t know how I feel about it. I’ve played out scenarios in my mind if he ever came back, and this wasn’t it. How is it possible that he looks better than yesterday? Muscle and tattoos, eyes bluer, and his cologne more exotic. My pulse quickens at the undeniable wave of attraction. But then, disgust follows, like a shadow creeping behind me.
I hoped he would have forgotten me or at least given me the courtesy to stay away. That he would’ve taken the hint yesterday and realized he wasn’t welcome here. Maybe call and cancel his order. But he didn’t. He made sure I was aware of him like he did in high school. He could be in any room, out of sight, and I could feel his stare mocking me.
“How about a bagel and those macarons?” he orders with a gleam in his eye.
“You know you could head over to Betty’s diner,” I say sharply. “She is still in business. Get a full breakfast.”
Everyone here is still in business, and from what I’ve learned, if they look the other way and keep their mouth shut, it will stay that way.
He leans in, his eyes scanning my face. “I like your cookies,” he says, lowering his voice. “I’m sure everything else you make is just as good. Maybe even better than anything I can find in this town.”
“Macarons are originally from Italy. I’m sure they taste better over there.”
He has raced for Lamborghini. That was the magazine I couldn’t help seeing in the checkout line at the grocery store. The town of Airy's own celebrity hero.
He smiles. “I’ve had them, but your cookies are better. Pretty sure everything of yours is better. I want to taste it all.”
He’s clearly talking about more than my baked goods, but I’m not playing his stupid game.
“Alright, I have bagels, macarons, banana nut bread?—”
He interrupts. “You know what? All of them.”
My hand hovers over the screen of my tablet. That means I would have sold out, and it’s only 8:45 a.m.
A few seconds stretch to almost a minute.
“Is that okay?” He says each word slowly.
I swallow.
“Of course.”
"How about dinner?"
“We close at six.”
When he doesn’t reply, I look up, and his eyes are fixated on my mouth. I hate when he does that. He never used to do it, except that day alone in his car.
“I meant dinner with me. You and me Friday night?”
Katie starts having a coughing fit. I look over, and I can tell she is faking it, but I ask, “Are you okay, Katie?”
She pulls out a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’ll be fine,” she says, but she’s still coughing, and her eyes are wide.
I turn to Ford. “I can’t. I have plans.”
He raises his brows skeptically. “How about Saturday?”
“Weekends aren’t a good time.”
He frowns, looking annoyed and suspicious. “Oh?—”
“I don’t want to go out with you.”
I don’t think anyone has ever rejected Ford Keller. In another universe, I would have said yes, flushed, and felt those little butterflies I used to feel when I tried to get him to notice me in high school, but those butterflies turned to knives, cutting me on the inside so I could bleed out.
I should scream at him and tell him he is a monster, but I don’t. I can’t because I know there will be an underlying threat after it. Another lawyer will pay me a visit.
“Is there a?—”
I cut him off. “Anything else I can get you? Coffee?”
“Coffee would be good.”
“Good,” I say, my stomach churning. “Katie can finish ringing you up. Have a great rest of your day, Mr. Keller.”
I turn away and push through the door to the kitchen, letting it swing close.
I slide down onto the floor, placing my hands over my face, stifling a sob. I cry because the one boy I liked took everything from me, and now I’m not sure if he was part of it or not.
It’s been four years, and he still makes me feel a strange mix of longing, fear, and hatred.
Four Years Ago
DULCE
I glance at my phone with a flutter in my chest like tiny wings beating simultaneously, still not believing the message I received from Ford asking me out to prom. The Friday, May 31 st prom ticket I thought was useless is taped to the old dresser mirror in my bedroom.
I turn to the side in the floor-length mirror, giving myself a critical once-over in my mother’s prom dress and pushing the fear from facing everyone at school.
The dress flares out, snug at the waist, and almost knee length. It feels smooth against my freshly shaved legs. The white cotton thong made me feel like I wasn’t wearing any underwear. The dress was strapless. I couldn’t afford to buy a strapless bra to push up my breasts, but I didn’t need it. Half my breasts were uncovered, and it gave me a sense of confidence. A dreamy feeling filled with excitement ran through me that Ford would find me attractive.
“You look beautiful, Dulce.”
I look at my grandmother’s reflection in the mirror and feel a pang inside my chest. She looks tired. The sky is overcast, and the lights in my bedroom make her look pale like white salamander.
When I was in ninth grade, she was diagnosed with cancer in her lymph nodes. She underwent treatment and went into remission. Now, it is back with a vengeance, wanting to finish the job. Cancer is a bitch. It’s evil. It makes you watch your loved ones die slowly. Treatment gives you hope, but it doesn’t make it easy.
“Thank you, Grandma.”
“Who’s the lucky boy?”
I smile. “Ford Keller.”
“Ford Keller,” she repeats but doesn’t seem surprised for whatever reason. She knows who he is. I mean, who doesn’t? His parents are rich.
I look at myself once again in the mirror, smoothing my dress. I almost declined his invitation when I received the text at 3:30 after school from an unknown number. I didn’t plan on going. I had already told Mary to leave for the day. At first, I wasn’t sure if the invitation was real. When I asked who it was, Ford’s name popped up. My heart beat wildly. Blue eyes swam behind my eyes as my fingers typed the only reply that would make all my dreams come true. Yes.
“Are you sure you will be okay until I come back?”
She waves her hand from her wheelchair. “I’ll be fine,” she says.
She needs the wheelchair because the cancer has metastasized to the bone, and she can’t walk. I bathed her when I got home because she hates when Mary does it, and then I made her dinner—mashed potatoes and meatloaf.
“Are you sure? It was last minute. I could send him a text and tell him I can’t go. I know I told you I wasn’t going.”
“Dulce Webster,” she says with a horrified look. “You will not stand up that boy. He asked, and you accepted. I know you’re nervous, sweetheart. It’s what happens when the guy you have a crush on asks you out.”
I whirl around. “Grandma…”
She sucks her teeth. “You can’t lie to me, Dulce. I see the look in your eye every time someone mentions Ford Keller.” She pushes the button on her refurbished motorized wheelchair, which I found on eBay for half the price, and goes to her room. “Can’t blame you, honey. He’s a looker. I heard he is moving to Europe to race cars. This is your chance, so don’t waste it on an old bird like me. I want to see you happy before I…”
My chest squeezes as she stops herself from finishing the sentence. I know what she was about to say, of course. I know what’s coming, even if we never say it out loud.
She’s dying, and there isn’t shit I can do about it. Except watch her slowly and painfully wither away.
Nothing, but watch her die slowly.
“I don’t want to leave you, Grandma,” I tell her with tears stinging my eyes, knowing I’m not just talking about being apart from her tonight.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” she assures me. “This is the first time I've seen you smile in a long time. This is your night. Prom is one of the most memorable nights in a girl’s life. If your parents could…” She seems to struggle to catch her breath like she always does when she talks about them.
I don’t want to see my grandmother unhappy, so I smile and tell her, “Alright, Grandma. Let’s get you to bed. Ford will be here soon.”
“What time did he say he would pick you up?”
“Seven thirty.”
I don’t want him to see how run down the inside of our house looks. We need new floors and fresh paint. The kitchen is outdated because we updated the bakery to keep business going. All the money we make goes to the mortgage and keeping the lights on. We never have to worry about food because we work with food, but there isn’t room for anything else.
I follow her to her room, my late mother’s silver heels making the loose floorboards groan. She pauses near the stairs. “Hold on,” she says and reaches for her phone in her pocket. “Stand over by the staircase,” she says and then coughs.
“Grandma…”
“I need a picture of you in the same spot your mother stood when it was her prom. Make sure you take pictures with Ford.”
I blink back tears, realizing how much this means to her. I stand at the foot of the stairs, smoothing my loose hair and smiling as she snaps the picture.
“Gorgeous,” she says with glassy eyes. “You look so much like your momma.”
I smile. “Thank you, Grandma.”
I follow her to her room near the living room and wait until she turns the chair so that it is easier for me to assist her to bed. I carry her bridal style, balancing steadily in my heels and feeling how frail her body is in my arms as I place her gently on her hospital bed.
“I could have walked, Dulce. I don’t want to wrinkle your dress.”
“Oh, Grandma. I don’t care if you did.”
She gives me a once-over after I make sure she is comfortable and secure in her bed. “Good.” My grandmother’s Rosewood Grandfather clock chimes. “It’s already seven thirty. It’s not wrinkled, and you don’t have a hair out of place.”
For a fleeting moment, dread sinks in when I glance at my phone. There’s no text from Ford. Has he stood me up?
I try not to, but I can’t help wondering if I’ve fallen for another prank. Picturing myself waiting for him all night while he’s at prom, laughing with his friends
Maybe agreeing to go was a bad idea. If I’d said no, I wouldn’t have to worry about being made fun of. I wouldn’t have to face them.
School will be over in two weeks. My attendance is perfect, and my grades are good enough that I can miss the rest of the year and still graduate. I wasn’t planning on going to graduation, anyway, since my grandmother can’t go and I have no other family to watch me take the stage.
My phone pings.
Ford: I’m outside.
I get up out of the chair in nervous excitement, realizing my grandmother is already fast asleep. I place a soft kiss on her cheek and make sure she is hooked up to her monitor.
Dulce: I’ll be right out. Wait for me where you dropped me off.
I shut the front door, making sure it’s locked. The sun has already disappeared in the horizon. Gripping my clutch, I walk up the square trail of steps leading to the main road, careful not to get my heels stuck between the cracks. A large black SUV gleamed under the single streetlight.
I bite my lip and squeeze the clutch in my hands. A sense of dread comes over me, causing nausea to snake up my throat. I only prayed for one night. One special night.
The back door to the SUV opens. Everything happens so fast. The door slams shut. The locks click, and the SUV bolts forward.
My eyes go wide, dread making my skin crawl. “You look pretty tonight,” Trent drawls from the front passenger seat with a dark smile. No.no.no. Please, God.
My chest feels tight, and my vision blurs.
I turn my head, and the seat next to me is empty. Chris watches me from the rearview mirror. They’re both dressed for prom, but it’s just the three of us in the SUV.
“Where’s Ford?” I croak.
They both laugh.
“Where’s Ford?” Chris mocks.
“Did you actually think Ford would ask an ugly cunt like you to prom?” Trent says with a gleam in his eyes.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
“Somewhere special,” Chris says, “where desperate cunts like you go when no one wants them.”
“Please, take me back home,” I beg, panic seizing my chest.
“I’m afraid it’s too early. What would Granny think?”
I try to open the door, but it’s locked. I pull the lock, but it quickly slides back in place.
“Tsk, tsk. Not yet, baby,” Trent says with a sinister grin. “We haven’t reached the best part.”
I unlock my phone, but Trent snatches it from my hand.
“Give me my phone,“ I demand in a hard tone.
“I’m afraid that is not going to happen,” Chris says flatly.
I jolt when Trent’s finger rubs down my arm. I pull away from his touch, making me want to throw up. “Fuck off, Trent.”
“You know what, Chris? I kinda think she looks pretty tonight.” Trent leers at my chest. Nausea crawls up my throat. “I didn’t know she had a rack like that.”
I sink in my seat and move closer to the door trying to the handle. “Let me out, Chris!”
Fear swirls in my gut. They wouldn’t?
“All the pretty sweet skin,” Trent continues like he didn’t hear me. “I bet your cunt is just as sweet.”
I wipe my eyes. Fear squeezing my chest. “Stop it, Trent. You’re better than this. Both of you. Don’t…”
The car stops to a screeching halt, causing me to fly forward and hit the back passenger seat. It gives me whiplash, and I feel my neck snap.
“What the fuck, Chris!” Trent yells, rubbing the back of his neck.
“We’re here,” he says calmly and gets out.
I look out my window and see nothing but darkness and trees on both sides of the road. We’re in the middle of nowhere. There are no houses. No signs of life.
“Where are we?” I ask in a shaky voice.
My door opens. “Where the fun begins,” Chris says and grabs me by the arm, dragging me out of the car. “You said you wanted out.”
“What are you going to do?” I say between sobs.
“Whatever the fuck we want,” Trent says, breathing heavily.
“What—”
Chris shuts the door. “Let’s go. We got her out here. Fun is over.”
“You’re leaving me here?”
Trent throws my phone on the ground, stepping on it with his dress shoes for good measure and causing it to shatter. Then he says, “Yeah.”
I wipe my face. “Why? I never—” I sniff. “Did anything to you.”
“Someone had to be the end-of-the-year prank this year, and none of the girls like you,” Trent says.
Chris opens the driver’s side door and calls out, “Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”
Chris’s hard stare aims directly at me, and I wonder how I got it all wrong. He was supposed to be the nice one. Sometimes in study hall he would smile at me, at least when his friends weren’t around. But apparently, he’s no different from them.
Trent turns to open the door.
“Please, don’t do this, Trent,” I beg, my legs shaking. “Why are you doing this?”
He pauses for a second, then says, “They hate you because you’re good. You don’t make mistakes, and you’re beautiful without trying.” He gets in, slams the door, and the SUV takes off.
I watch the taillights until they are tiny specks disappearing into the darkness. I'm surrounded by tall, foreboding trees on the dimly lit road. A shiver creeps down my spine with each rustle of leaves. The faint moonlight dances and twists as it barely breaks through the dense canopy of clouds.