“Go ahead and tell her! I’ll tell her you stuck your hand on my ass and suggested we could have fun together. See how long she sticks around then. You’re lucky I haven’t gone to the cops.”
He grabs my shirt and pulls me into him, beer-soaked breath washing over my face. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”
His eyes roam over my face, and then his mouth slowly curves into a leering grin as he presses into me. “Your loss, babe. Would have been nice.”
“Do you cheat on Mom all the time? Or just with members of her own family?”
I don’t even see his hand flashing out as his fist catches me across the face.
Some instinct makes me shove him hard and he staggers backward. I spin on my heel, and my feet have a mind of their own because in the blink of an eye I’m running, breath sawing in and out as my shoes slap over the concrete. In a minute, I’m down a block, then another, my chest getting tighter and tighter, one ear listening for the sound of pounding behind me. On the third block, I grind to a halt, place my hands on my knees and suck in air, leaning on the wall of the nearest building as I scan down the street. There’s no sign of Jake. I straighten as I lean back against the brickwork.
The worst part of this is that Jake has found out where I work, despite James’s best efforts to lie on my behalf.James met your stepdad, Sadie. Even worse, he thinks Jake is youractualdad.Maybe that’s why James didn’t want me living with him.
My phone buzzes in my pocket:
Jake’s messaged me about your pay. He says he was expecting some money to come into our account.
Mom.He’s roping her in now? Christ. Well, two can play at this game:
Tell him to earn his own money.
Does my mom know about this debt that he has? I can’t believe she does; she’d be livid.
Come on, baby girl, we always pull together. He’s having a rough time finding a job at the moment. I’m at work. Can you talk to him?
He wanted me to ask my company for an advance on my paycheck, Mom. I can’t do that. I told him that.
Oh, really? Okay. I’ll talk to him.
I put my phone back in my pocket and wend my way through the streets toward the PATH terminal. A woman glances at my face as she passes by, and her eyes widen. I draw my shirt in around my neck and step into a doorway, digging a mirror out of my backpack. The whole side of my face is red, and as I take in my skin, my eyes prickle. That’s going to look terrible once the bruise comes up.Goddamn Jake.In all these years, he’s never hit me, and I’m pretty sure he’s never raised a hand to my mom either, and she’s been with him for fifteen years. Why’s he all riled up? He’s easy to handle in the usual run of things. On instinct, I snap a quick picture of myself. As I gaze up Fulton Street, my eyes snag on a CVS on the corner.Hmm.
I slide in the door to the pharmacy, but nobody gives me a second glance, so I track down the makeup aisle and stare at the startling array of foundations and concealers—more money. I swear my only expenditure is food in Queens. I even debated whether we needed milk the other day, and I’ve spent eighty-six dollars on two nights in a hostel in less than twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, everything is locked away in clear cabinets, so I can’t try anything.
“Can I help you?”
The voice comes from behind my left shoulder.Okay, Sadie, you can do this. She doesn’t know you from Adam: Channel your inner woman from the projects who’s married to an asshole.
“I’ve got this bad bruise coming up on my cheek and I want something to cover it,” I say as I turn around.
Her eyes narrow on my face and she purses her lips. She doesn’t even appear surprised, like this is another day in the office for her, like women walk into pharmacies downtown with bruised faces all the time.And perhaps they do.Or maybe she lives somewhere shit like Queens.
“Yeah, I think you need a thick concealer for that. Can I take a closer look?” she says.
I nod and she steps toward me, placing gentle fingers on my face as she examines it. “It’ll be a difficult bruise to hide.”
Tell me about it, I don’t say as my heart sinks. I’m going to have to invent a story at work tomorrow.
“L’Oréal’s the way to go. It’s one of my favorite brands, and all their stuff is bulletproof.”
Her perfectly made-up face is all the evidence I need, so I follow her down the aisle until she stops and unlocks another of the see-through cabinets, pulling out a small and a large tube. “Concealer and a foundation stick. Use them both and it’ll give you the best coverage—trust me.”
I grimace and nod at her. “Where do you live?” I blurt out.
“Queens,” she says.
I was right!
“I’m not sure what I’m doing working downtown, if I’m honest,” she adds.
