Page 25 of Love is Angry

To be honest, I don’t have Madison’s best interest at heart here. Hell, no. A whore is a whore. But Dad would have a field day tormenting her. I refuse to give him even one ounce of satisfaction here. He’s not a good man. I cannot let him do harm. If anyone is going to make Madison miserable, it’ll be me.

“Since when do you give a crap about that girl?” Dad asks Laura.

Before she can answer, I decide to make myself clear. “You’re going to leave Madison Willis alone, and you’re going to keep her name out of your mouth. Your philandering has damaged this family beyond repair. I refuse to give you or that money-grubbing bitch any more of the spotlight.”

“You’re in no position to tell me what I can or cannot do,” he replies, his eyes reduced to black slits that dare me to keep going. He’s itching for a fight, it seems. I like Il Truffatore too much to get myself banned, though the prospect of sucker-punching him is tempting. There’s barely anything between us. He’s not as fast as he used to be. I could just bolt upright and swing out with my left hook. That’s all it would take. “Last time I checked, you still rely on me, at least financially, since I’m the one paying your tuition.”

I smile. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. Your filthy indiscretion ruined our family. Mom is dead—”

“Roxanne’s problems ran deeper than my fidelity issues,” Dad hisses. “She never showed any of it to you, of course, because she couldn’t bring herself to drag you into her mess. But your mother was a troubled woman. Beneath the surface, behind that controlled and neatly manicured façade, your mother was a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Dad, stop, please!” Laura is so close to crying, it breaks my heart. This isn’t where I saw the discussion going when I brought Madison up.

“Roxanne never knew about Madison,” Dad says. “And that’s the last you’ll hear from me about your mother. It’s a delicate topic for each of us. Rhue, don’t fight me on this anymore. We should be closer and stronger together, not arguing like this over…over a gold-digging skank.”

“I’m not the one who’s arguing. I merely want to make myself clear,” I reply. “You implied you’re going to do something to her. My guess is you’ll try to get her kicked out of Cornell or something equally messed up to stop our paths from crossing.” Ted discretely moves around the table and removes our empty plates, drifting away like a colorless ghost. “None of that is going to happen. You’re going to leave Madison Willis alone. She wants nothing to do with me or our family, so whatever you said to her seems to have stuck. Therefore, this is a non-situation that does not warrant your attention.”

Dad cocks his head to the side. Whenever he does this, I feel like he’s about to kick me in the nuts. Like he’s torn between laughing and breaking my face. He’s a hard man to read, but he oozes danger and determination.

His Latino spirit has helped him elbow his way through business and politics alike. His biggest mistake was trying to do the same with his family. I can see past his threatening bullshit. Yeah, he’s got money and power and whatever--but I am my father’s son, and two can play the wretched game. “It sounds like you’re giving me an ultimatum of sorts,” he says. “Are you trying to threaten me, son?”

“No, God forbid. I’m merely stating a fact. If you do anything to hurt Madison, I will make sure the press hears about your affair. There will be no more dogging and hounding the whore,” I tell him. “If anything, I’d say she has already paid her dues. In the end, she was never the problem. You were. You couldn’t keep your dick in your pants.”

He’s about to say something, but Ted shows up like a godsend with our pasta plates. All I can do is smile, knowing that my father is well aware of my inability to sell bullshit. I meant every word I said. If he so much as thinks about damaging Madison’s academic life, I’ll know, and I will take action. I’ve got nothing to lose. The sins of the father do not reflect on the son. The press will sell that in glorious headlines. He’s aware that I’m not messing around.

There will be no more talk about Madison Willis, now.

Dinner will go as smoothly as can be in this dysfunctional and miserable family, but at least the whore is out of my father’s reach. She’s my plaything and no one else’s. Only I get to torment Madison Willis.

Chapter 12

Madison

A month has flown by since I first arrived in Ithaca. It should be a reason to celebrate—a month away from Rochester and every bit of nastiness that comes attached to that city. But one particularly handsome dollop of that nastiness somehow followed me here, albeit unintentionally. Rhue and I haven’t spoken in days, and our last interaction had five words in it, tops, of which two were ear-ringing expletives.

It’s been quiet since. Blissfully quiet.

I’m thinking about him. Specifically, I’m thinking about the days before he saw me with Julian. When my soul was pure and my heart sang different songs. When Rhue was all I was dreaming about. Those were good times. Simple times. Unfortunately, there’s no rewind button in this life. I can only move forward, and my path is as rocky and as complicated as ever. There’s a weight on my chest that I haven’t been able to remove.

I want to breathe fully and freely again, but my throat closes up whenever Rhue pops into my head, like an uninvited moth drawn to the flame.

I’ve been tossing and turning for nights, oddly enough. While I have enjoyed the silence, the absence of him, I can’t help but think that this isn’t how things should end between us. We could and we should do better as human beings, as members of the same faculty and participants in the same society.

It’s getting colder in these parts and the winter sports are in full motion. Perhaps that has been the reason for Rhue’s silence. Practice is bound to work away the mass of his energy and the upcoming games certain to steal his attention. Perhaps it’s a stupid move to tempt fate and my own sanity in the same go, but once I’m done with my run, I find myself inching closer and closer to the arena. There’s only slight hesitation as I push through the door.

Cameron spots me from the edge of the bleachers. I give him an awkward smile and try to go elsewhere with a good view, but the game is surprisingly packed. I catch glimpses of the players on the ice in their academia-colored gear as they chase the puck into enemy territory.

“Madison!” Cameron calls out, and I freeze. I’m not sure why. He runs over. There is warmth in his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“What are you sorry for?” I ask.

“I’ve been a dick,” he sighs, his shoulders dropping. “That guy, Rhue. He got into my head that day, and I haven’t had the common sense to question the things he said. Hell, even if what he said was true, it’s still not a good reason for me to shun you the way I did. For that, Madison, I owe you a huge apology.”

I can’t help but smile. “You’re kind and sweet, but to be honest, there isn’t much to forgive. I should have known my reputation would follow me into Ithaca sooner or later.”

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