Chapters (68)
- Dedication
- Title Page
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Copyright
“I’m not sure that’s what I’d call it.”
Craig tipped his head. “Perhaps cheerful bordering on deranged? Did Mommy tell you my therapist is coming today? To talk to me? So I can share my feelings?”
“Thanks for your help,” Duckworth said, and started to get up.
“Wait!” Craig Pierce said. “Don’t go just yet.”
Duckworth sat down again slowly.
“I never liked my father,” Craig said. “I was never good enough for him. And then all this shit happened to me. The charges, the humiliation, the shame I brought down upon the family. But you know what was absolutely worst of all?”
Duckworth waited.
“It was losing my manhood. Havin’ all my equipment bit clean off. That was why he couldn’t come up here and look at me. You believe that? He couldn’t even look at me.”
Duckworth could think of nothing to say.
“I’ve never told my mother what actually happened when my father brought me my tomato soup.” Craig smiled. “She thinks good ol’ Dad came up here and just got very sad, then went downstairs and had his heart attack.”
Duckworth heard himself asking, “So what did happen?”
Another mischievous grin. “This.”
Craig spread his legs further and flung back the robe to expose all that remained: ugly purple-blue bruising, jagged scars and mangled skin. Duckworth was put in mind of a blue cabbage that had been through a food processor.
“I said to Dad, ‘How about them apples, or lack thereof?’”
Duckworth got up and left the room.
Twenty
TWENTY
CAL
I went back into the Plimpton house with Bob Butler trailing after me. Gloria was in the kitchen, pouring herself yet another glass of wine while her aunt watched disapprovingly.
“Where’s Jeremy?” I asked.
“He went upstairs,” Gloria said. “He was very upset. Can you blame him? That asshole Galen comes by here in that car?” She shook her head. “Honest to God, I am surrounded by people who really don’t have a clue. Jesus, Bob, how could you let him come up here at all, let alone in that goddamn car?”
Bob said, “I had no idea.”
“Unbelievable,” Gloria said to him, but now she was turning her sights on me. “Did you really throw Jeremy’s phone into a fryer?”
I nodded unapologetically.
“It might keep him from making further dates with his girlfriend.”
“The Wilson girl?” Gloria asked.
“Yes,” I said, “Charlene.”
“That little slut,” Gloria said.
“For God’s sake,” Madeline Plimpton said. “Pot, meet kettle.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gloria asked.
Ms. Plimpton just shook her head and left the room. Gloria sighed and took another drink.
“Aren’t you hitting that just a bit hard?” Bob asked her.
“With what I’ve been through, you’re lucky I don’t drink straight out of the bottle.” She put down her glass and waved a finger at him. “I’ve had an idea.”
“What’s that?”