Page 2 of Rival
I’m standing over her, a good foot taller, clenching my fists tight enough that I feel a pinch in my nerves to ground myself.
Her shoulders hunch, and she curls over herself. Finally, she realizes I’m not playing around. I shouldn’t have to get this pissed off just to get my point across. I’m hanging on by a thin wire. If she’d just keep her mouth shut and do as she’s told, it would make this whole evening more bearable. Of course, she doesn’t.
Edith Sophia Hughes, named after her mother’s grandmother, can’t let bygones be bygones. She always has to have the last word.
“You didn’t tell me you were havin’ dinner. I’d have come down—”
My arm shoots out, the back of my hand connecting with her cheek. A sense of peace washes over me as her head jerks to the side, her loose hair covering her face. I know I probably shouldn’t smack her around, but I’ve tried everything else I could to get her to obey me.
I don’t expect much. Be where you’re supposed to be when you’re told. Eat meals when they’re served. Keep quiet and clean up after yourself. Give me some time to myself in the evenings so I can unwind. Don’t embarrass me in front of my friends. Nothing outrageous, but she’s constantly testing her limits.
With a sigh, I plant my hands on my hips and stare down at her. “Just… go to your room. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for some silence every once in a while. You owe me that much.”
Edith shuffles sideways until she’s past me, keeping her eyes lowered as she quickly puts away the pan and bread. I keep my arms crossed as I watch, not wanting anything left out before Griffin arrives.
I hear the soft click of the front door, then Griffin calls out, “Where you at, Clay?”
My head turns toward the door leading to the living room, but when Edith looks that way as well, I grip the ponytail she’s got her hair tied in, and drag her toward the stairs. When she cries out, I smack her again and hiss, “Shut your fuckin’ mouth and get outta sight. We don’t need a fuckin’ bitch watchin’ our every move tonight.”
I wouldn’t hit her if it didn’t work. The moment my hand connects with her face, she always presses her lips together and quiets right down. Shoving her toward the stairs, I release her and whisper, “Don’t you fuckin’ come down. Nobody wants to see ya, and nobody wants a little girl hangin’ around. Mind your business and stay up there ‘til mornin’. You hear me, girl?”
“Clay?” Griffin shouts again, so I take a step toward my daughter until her hands fly up in a placating manner.
“G-Got it. I won’t come down.”
I wait a moment as she scrambles up the stairs, then blow out a gust of air in relief as her bedroom door shuts softly. Edith has been weird around my friends since she was a little girl, and I honestly don’t want to deal with the questions that normally follow if she’s around.
Hollering over my shoulder to keep Griffin in the living room, I shout, “I’m here! I’ll be there in a second.” I grab a few beers and walk back into the living room.
My best friend’s younger brother is standing in the middle of the room with a bottle of what looks like vodka in his hand. Raising a brow, I lift my chin in question.
“Don’t give me shit. I didn’t feel much like stoppin’ at the store and this is all Corb had at the house. Can I get one of those?” He jerks toward the bottles in my hand.
“Couldn’t even pull somethin’ brown?” I ask, handing over a beer.
With a shrug, he falls onto the couch and puts his booted feet up on the coffee table. “They didn’t have much. This’ll do, though. Want me to throw it in the freezer?”
“I’ll take it.” Edith didn’t pick up everything in the kitchen and I don’t want him seeing the mess she left behind. “Want anything to eat while I’m in there?”
“Got some chips?” He cracks his bottle open and sighs loudly, closing his eyes as he gets comfortable, readjusting his feet, the soles of his boots squeaking on the tabletop.
My cheek ticks, hating that his feet are on it, but I decide not to say anything. “Yeah. I’ll grab it and a few more beers.”
I don’t mind Griffin Graham so much, but it was his brother I had been friends with since high school. Griffin was always one of those boys who tagged along with the older crowd, never finding his own group. I can count on one hand the number oftimes he’s been over without his brother, but I’ll deal with it. It’s better than drinking alone on a Friday night.
Shoving the bottle of vodka into the freezer, I snag the chips from the counter and the rest of the bottles in my fridge. When I’m back in the living room and dropping the bag into his lap, I cock my head as he looks around the room.
Snapping at him, I grit out, “What?”
“Don’t you have a kid? She already go to bed or somethin’?”
Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms across my chest, ignoring the cold of the beer against my side. “Yeah. Why?”
Griffin opens the bag of chips, not picking up on my annoyance over his questions. “No reason. Just figured a little kid would be runnin’ around tonight. It’s barely eight.”
“She’s a fuckin’ teenager. Not a little kid anymore.”
My buddy’s brother pauses and glances up at me. “Didn’t mean anythin’ by it. Figured since it’s Friday, she’d be hangin’ around. That’s all.”
