Page 68 of Resilience

Then the old ladies had something of a church session of their own. The Tulsa charter was staying in Laughlin until Ben Haddon, the Nevada VP, was buried. Duncan and Chris were heading west to join the Bulls, and the women were deciding who among them would go. Willa was definitely going; Ben’s daughter was engaged to Zach, Willa’s oldest son. Jenny and Cissy were going. And Marcella. The rest of the old ladies were staying to mind the home front.

Athena wasn’t an old lady—although Sam had his patch now, which she’d learned from her mother, because he hadn’t told her himself in either of their calls, the dope—so she wasn’t invited to be part of that discussion. She wanted to go to Laughlin, but her mother wouldn’t consider it, and Sam didn’t want her there, either. Apparently there was still some danger in Nevada. Knowing that did nothing to ease her mind about Sam being there. Or her father. Or anybody else she loved.

When their discussion started to become an argument, Mom pointed out that they had business of their own to attend to, and that Dad being away gave them room to handle it cleanly, without having to lie or dodge.

Thus, when they finally got home, Mom ordered Greek for dinner, and they sat together at the kitchen table and discussed Athena’s revenge on Hunter.

The plan was simple and didn’t require any lawbreaking or even hacking. Mom knew of a local underground company that specialized in a very particular kind of fuckery: everything from practical jokes to pranks that bordered on actual torture. They even sold package deals for prolonged mischief.

The bulk of her mother’s private investigation work dealt with troubled marriages and divorces. Lots of cheating spouses and the like. Athena found it incredibly demoralizing to know the extent to which people who’d vowed to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives could end up being astonishingly shitty to each other instead, but Mom had a level attitude about it all, maybe because she’d been doing her job for more than thirty years.

When someone learned their supposed life partner had been fucking their way across the Great Plains, they were usually both devastated and furious. Most wanted not only a divorce but payback. Mom had figured out that giving them a legal option for revenge that was much speedier and sleeker than the divorce proceedings would be tended to cool the hottest expressions of anger and stave off any intention for actual violence.

This company, for example, would deliver—anonymously and untraceably—a box full of bedbugs to the home of the ‘revengee.’ Just that one box would wreak plenty of havoc. But if that wasn’t enough, you could do a package deal and get a box of lice sent the next week, and maybe termites after that.

Perhaps vermin wasn’t your revenge kink. The company had options themed for terror, shock, torment, public embarrassment, and more. They also had playful prank options, like glitter bombs and creepy-clown-o-grams.

When Mom had brought this idea up at the clubhouse, it had seemed more promising than the others, but they hadn’t had the opportunity to dig into it. Sitting here in their own house, going through the website—which was buried deep in another site; this wasn’t a company that, like, did a lot of advertising—Athena was underwhelmed. These things seemed mean, but not really vengeful. Honestly, they seemed passive-aggressive and cowardly. Not all that much different from TP-ing his house.

“He raped me and made me pregnant, Mom. I don’t want to send him a gag gift.”

Mom’s shoulders did that lift-and-drop thing that signaled an impatient sigh. “These are our options, Athena. You don’t want to drag him online, and I get it—unless you out yourself, we’ll have to invent something, and that could have consequences down the road. You don’t want to alter the sex offender list, and yeah, that’s not my favorite, either. I don’t mind skirting the line, but I don’t like to cross it, and that would be outright illegal. The club does all the outlaw shit we can manage. This is what’s left.”

“It’s not enough.”

Mom regarded her for a long time. “You want to hurt him. Physically.”

Athena nodded. “He hurt me.”

“I know, starlight.” Mom reached out and cupped Athena’s cheek. “It makes me sick that he did it, and I want to hurt him, too. But I don’t want the fallout for you. Or anybody. As you say, his father has pull. I don’t know how to hurt him and protect you, and all of us.”

“Dad would.” Athena’s hands shook as she signed that.

Again, Mom stared until Athena felt squirmy. “You said you didn’t want that.”

“I don’t want him, or Sam, or any of our family hurt doing something for me. And I want to do it for myself. But it’s like there’s just no way to be both safe and satisfied.”

That made her mother smile grimly. “No, baby, there’s not. There never has been. That’s why I don’t like to call it revenge. You’ll never get revenge, if what you mean is to cancel out the hurt done to you. That will never happen. You will not feel less hurt because you’ve hurt him back. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hurt him back. Justice is an earned consequence, so he doesn’t get away with it. Maybe losing his job is enough.”

“It’s not,” Athena replied at once. “Not even close.”

“You could report what he did. Officially, I mean. To law.”

Athena goggled at her mother. “No. Absolutely not.”

“No, I didn’t think so. And I agree. The stats for finding justice the legal way are horrible. And Hunter’s too connected, anyway. I just figured it had to be said out loud. It is, technically, an option.”

“Not for me.”

“Okay. Well, personally, I’d be glad for your father to know. I hate these secrets, and ... “ She stopped, let her hands fall to the table, and stared out the French doors. When she returned her attention to Athena, her eyes sparkled with denied tears. “Fuck, starlight. I want to be able to talk to him about this. Because you’re our baby. You are the most precious thing in the world to me—to us. I’m a boiling pot of rage about what that shitty little toad did to you, and trying not to dump that all over you is hard. I need my guy.”

Again, Athena felt her throat fill with tears. Cripes, she’d been crying so much lately. It sucked. “Sorry, Mama,” she signed.

“Don’t be sorry. This should be your call. Start to finish, it’s your call. But if you want advice from your mom, let’s bring your dad in. He knows how to get the justice you want, and stay as safe as he can doing it.”

Athena nodded. She had tried to find another way, but this was the only way to do it right. “I told him if he quit at the school, I wouldn’t tell Dad.”

Mom smiled—and oh, Athena knew that smile. It had never been directed at her, but she’d seen it turned toward some people who were about to have a very bad day. “Then I’ll tell him.”

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