Page 107 of Savage

“Ma.” Tank squeezes the bridge of his nose, as though he feels a tension headache coming on.

“Oh relax, Jonah, I’m just messing with you,” she says. “Now, go and set another place at the table, please. I need Ivy’s help here.”

Jonah?I mouth, and he rolls his eyes.

“If you tell anyone you heard that I may be forced to suffocate you in your sleep.”

Adeline makes a shooing motion and ushers him into the dining room. “Away with you. Ivy and I need a moment to chat.”

He gives his mother a stern look, and the same wry grin I usually see on his lips is eerily echoed on his mother’s. Tank leaves the room, and I turn hesitantly back to Adeline.

“You eat meat, Ivy?”

“Er, yeah,” I say, and then my eyes widen a fraction, and I attempt to be not so … me. “I mean, yes. Thank you.”

She smiles and pulls two glasses from the cupboard above her head. Taking a bottle of Moscato from the fridge, she pours a glass. I glance nervously between Adeline and the wall separating the dining room. I’ve never been a big drinker; my vices are much more potent than alcohol. Even so, I want that drink bad. Blindly, I take a step forward, but Tank’s voice booms from the other room, “No wine, Ma.”

She frowns and looks at me. “Shouldn’t Ivy be the judge of that, Son?”

He storms back into the kitchen like a hurricane, hell bent on ripping up every last vestige of my ease. “No. Wine,” he says, though he isn’t looking at her when he says it. I glare at him and swallow hard, crossing my arms over my chest and turning to look at the fridge—which I find really appealing all of a sudden.

I want to crawl inside my own skin. The shame of what I am slams into me and I need to get out, to be as far from here, from him as possible. “Do you have a bathroom, Mrs Whitecross?” I say.

“Of course, honey,” she says, giving her son a long, reproachful look before turning back to me. “Down the hall, second door on the right.”

I nod and stalk down the hall, finding the bathroom and shutting myself inside. I lock the door and lean my forehead against it, blinking back tears. I hate this emotional crap. It feels like every five minutes there’s a new reason for my eyes to start leaking all over the place. My head hurts, my body, too, and Tank’s humiliation leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It’s not like one drink is going to make me slip up and turn Adeline’s house upside-down looking for coke. He’s no doubt out there right now telling her all about how pathetic I am, how lost and alone and worthless I am. I’m furious that he brought me here.Why would he bother? He couldn’t just tie me to a chair like before?

I stand in front of the sink and run the tap. I don’t splash water on my face because I’m wearing enough eyeliner to be an emo poster child, but I do place my shaking hands beneath the stream and get lost in the feel of the cool water over my fingertips. Then I dry them on an embroidered hand towel and stare at my reflection.Unhappy girl. The same girl I’ve seen for the last twenty-one years. The same worthless, fucked up junkie I’ve stared at in the mirror every day since I was a teen. I close my eyes and swallow back tears, so they won’t ruin my makeup.

A thought occurs to me then. I’m in a bathroom alone. Adeline doesn’t know I’m a junkie, and she had no idea I was coming, meaning she also had no time to put away any medication she may have lying around. Spurred on by the promise of escape, I yank open the cabinet as if my life depends on it. There isn’t much to choose from: lotions, a pre-packaged spare toothbrush, some tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner, and little hand soaps in the shapes of flowers. And then on the top shelf right at the very back I find what I’m looking for: Nurofen, Panadol, Panadeine Forte and OxyContin.

Blessed be the rich with back problems.

I pull the oxy out and open the box. There are three tablets within. It’s not coke, but it’s enough to take the edge off. Maybe if I took the Panadeine Forte with an OxyContin, or maybe I could just pop a couple of the Panadeine now and hide the oxy in my bra until later. I stare down at the boxes before me, and then I do the unthinkable—I place them back in the cabinet, neatly stacked the way I found them, or as close to it as I can get. My hands are shaking as I quietly close the cabinet and hurry to the door before I can change my mind. I yank the handle and barrel into Tank. I give a startled cry and jump back as though he just hit me.

“Find everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Thanks.”

I know that guilt is written all over my face. He glances at me at the bathroom, the unused toilet, and then finally his eyes roll over the cabinet and back to me. I’m waiting for him to say something, anything. To accuse me of taking his mother’s drugs. And even though it would be a totally valid argument, I hate that this is the first thing he thinks. I hate that I’ve given a reason for him to think this way. I hate that he knows me well enough to know that I’m not above stealing drugs from an old lady who needs them.

“Anything you wanna tell me?” He crosses his arms over his massive chest. I mimic the gesture.

“No, Tank. I don’t have anything to say to you at all.” I attempt to push past him but he grabs my arm and yanks me back, and while the sudden jolt to my already wired system comes as a shock, the tenderness with which his thumb smooths over my arm is just as surprising. “You’re hurting me.”

He grins and tilts his head to the side, searching my expression. “By doing this?” he asks, and his thumb moves in smoother, more purposeful strokes over my flesh.

“Let’s just get this shit over with,” I say, and then regret it as I’m turned and shoved up against the wall.

“This is my mother’s house. This ‘shit’ is a meal she prepared for us, and you are her guest. Show some fuckin’ respect, or I’ll put you over my knee and spank you until your arse is red raw and can no longer sit at a table to enjoy a meal.”

I suck in a deep breath and close my eyes, ignoring the way my pussy aches to have him do all of those dirty, wicked things he just promised. “I didn’t … I didn’t mean it like that.”

I glance up, wanting him to believe me. I wish he hadn’t brought me here, but I’ve got nothing against Adeline. I feel raw and vulnerable, exposed, and for once oddly chastened by his disappointment, rather than angered by it.

Tank surprises me by reaching out and tracing his calloused fingers over my cheek. “You make me crazy, you know that?”

No. I don’t know that. I didn’t know that was possible, to drive Tank crazy. He’s always so calm, and so … stoic. Nothing fazes him … ever. So to hear him confess this makes my stomach twist all up in knots.

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