Page 60 of Saving Grace

She was a mafia princess to the people on the outside looking in and that was all that mattered to her. Sometimes she would parade her friends in and out of the house like it was a museum, even after Atticus told her how dangerous that was. You could hear her walking the house proclaiming loudly “Roman brought me this, Roman brought me that.”

I knew Atticus well enough to know he hadn’t married her out of love. He hated superficial. She was like the kids at school who had contributed grief to his already hard life. Despite all that, I thought he should have had a bit more decorum about how he treated her in front of others and where I was concerned.

I told him I didn’t think me being there to plan his anniversary party was appropriate. He told me he didn’t care what I thought. That was a given.

He went into my closet and pulled out the red wrap dress I was now wearing and dared me not to put it on.

After the alley incident I didn’t really want to fight with Atticus anymore so I did what he said.

It was torture, being forced to be there while Sophia and her redhead, green-eyed friend glared at me. The party planner, a gay white guy who was too entertained by all the drama wasn’t making it any easier. Petty bitch. He kept trying to include me. Asking what I thought. Then there was Atticus who sat next to me carrying on a conversation about a football game with Tank as if everything were normal. This situation was not normal by any stretch of the imagination. It was a shit show of a circus. Cue the fucking clowns.

I took a deep, calming breath that was useless.

The grandfather and his bodyguard kept exchanging glances as if they were waiting for me to blurt the truth...

I ground my teeth.

I wanted to scream. With a huff, I pushed myself up from the table. I was completely fed up.

All eyes fell on me.

“I need some air.”

I excused myself without looking to Atticus for the approval I knew he expected me to ask for.

Fuck him.

I felt the heat of his eyes on my neck as I walked away.

I heard a chair scrape against the tiled floor and then heavy footsteps. I knew it was Tank.

I was okay with that.

We ended up sitting on the expansive deck off the back of the house. I chose a reclining lounger. I straddled it, pulling my dress up to just above my thigh. It was a test. Out of my peripheral I observed Tank who had already taken a seat in the rocker next to me. He wasn’t even looking my way. Loyal to Atticus. I knew that already but had to try.

I would need help if I was going to get AJ and myself away from the nut house. Sophia was my only hope. She wanted me gone enough to help. I had until AJ came back from camp in two weeks to figure out how I would use her.

Taking a seat, I laid back and focused on the sky. The stars looked like flowers blooming in black velvet. It was calming just sitting there.

I looked over to Tank and he was doing the same thing.

“How long do you think he will keep me here.” I interrupted the silence that had stretched between us.

“As long as it takes.” He didn’t elaborate and I knew he wouldn’t so I asked another question.

“How do you see this ending?”

Tank turned to face me; the chair groaned under his weight. He cocked his head.

“I see it ending very bloody,” he rasped.

“I see the same” I nodded. “Why don’t you tell him to let me go before it comes to that. You’re the only one he’ll listen to.” I urged him.

Tank grunted. “He does listen to me, but not about you and either way, there will be blood. It’s been a long time coming, arabinrin.” Tank had taken to calling me sister in Yoruba.

“The circumstances that brought us to this moment were in the making long before he brought you here. You can only treat a lion like a house cat for so long before it roars. Atticus wasn’t built for this life. For this family. He’ll tear it down brick by brick until he’s free.”

“So, they’re doing to him what he’s doing to me.

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