I normally don't push things with Asa, especially in front of other people, but I can't help my temper right now. I'm furious at his cavalier attitude about bringing in someone else, despite the fact that he promised me he was getting out. I also can't deny the fact that I'm pissed that it's Carter. I'm angry at myself for developing a false first impression of him in class today. I thought I was better at reading people, but the fact that he's involved with Asa shows me that I don't know a damn thing about reading people. He's just like the rest of them--but I should expect it by now. As hard as I try--as hard as it was leaving my childhood home in order to get away from this same type of lifestyle, only to end up right back in it—it makes me feel ignorant. How can I crave and work toward a normal life so incredibly bad, yet I keep falling right back in the middle of this shit? It's a damn curse.
"Asa," I say, pleadingly. "You promised." I toss my hand in Carter's direction. "Hiring new people isn't getting out...it's getting in deeper."
I feel hypocritical asking him to stop doing what he does. Every month I let him send a check for Stephen's care with the same dirty money I wish he wasn't making. But it's easier for me to allow that, since it's not for me. I'd take the dirtiest money there is if it meant my little brother would be taken care of.
Asa's eyes grow dark and he takes a step toward me. He gently places his hands on my arms and rubs them up and down. He leans his mouth in toward my ear and increases his grip on my arms, squeezing with all his force until I wince from the pain.
"Don't fucking embarrass me," he whispers quietly enough that only I can hear him. He eases his grip and runs his hands down to my elbows, then kisses me lovingly on the cheek for show. "Go put that sexy red dress on. We're having a party tonight to celebrate."
He steps back and releases me from his grip completely. I glance at Carter, who's still standing in the doorway, eyeing Asa like he could rip his head off at any second. He cuts his eyes to mine and for a second they grow softer, but I don't hang around long enough to be positive. I turn and run up the stairs to the bedroom. I slam the door and fall to my knees, hugging myself. The muscles in my arms are throbbing from the pain, so I try to rub it away. It's the first time he's ever physically hurt me, but the injury to my pride hurts so much worse. I never should have questioned him in front of someone. I know better.
But I also know that I don't deserve what he just did to me. No one does. I want to grab my bags and pack everything I own. I want to leave and never come back. I want out. I want out, I want out, I want out.
But I can't leave. It's not just me who would be affected.
* * *
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CARTER- 4
Chapter Four
"Sorry about her," Asa says, turning back to me.
I unclench my fists and attempt to hide my disdain. I've known him all of three hours, and I've never despised someone more in my entire life.
"It's all good," I reply. I walk over to the bar and casually ease myself into one of the seats at the table, despite the fact that I want to run upstairs and make sure Sloan's okay. My mind is still reeling from the fact that Sloan is involved in this. She was the last person I expected to run into coming here. Watching Asa kiss her like he did, and watching her respond like she did, made me officially regret taking on this assignment. This just became a hell of a lot more complicated.
"She live with you?" I ask. Asa hands me a beer out of the fridge and I untwist the top, then bring it to my mouth.
"Yep," he says. "And I'll cut your fuckin' dick off if you so much as look at her the wrong way."
I eye him, but he doesn't skip a beat. He shuts the door to the refrigerator and saunters to his seat on the other side of the bar as though the sentence never even left his mouth. How he can physically hurt her like he just did, then act like he gives a shit about her, has me floored. I want to bust the fucking beer bottle against his head, but instead I grip it harder, keeping my temper in check.
He opens his beer and raises the bottle. "To money," he says, clinking the bottle against mine.
"To money." And watching assholes get what they deserve.
Dalton walks in with a beer in one hand and his cell phone in the other, interrupting with perfect timing. He looks at me and nods, then turns his attention to Asa. "Hey, man. Jon wants to know what to do about the alcohol situation. Is it BYOB tonight or are we providing, because we don't have shit."
Asa slams his beer down on the bar and shoves his chair back, standing up. "I told that asshole to stock up yesterday," Asa says, storming out of the kitchen.
Dalton nudges his head toward the front door and I get up and follow him outside. Once we're alone in the middle of the front yard, he turns toward me and takes a swig of his beer, mostly for appearances sake. Dalton hates beer. He's more of a crown and coke kind of guy.
"How'd it go? You think you're in?" he asks.
I shrug. "I guess. He's desperate for someone who can speak Spanish. I told him I was good, but not fluent."
Dalton gapes at me. "Just like that? No questions asked?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "God, he's such a dumbass. Why do the new ones think they're so untouchable? Fucking pretentious prick."