We Begin at the End(13)

Star slipped a hand around Duchess’s shoulder and pulled her close. She kissed her head as they crawled along the freeway. “There was a guy there tonight, he’s got a studio in the valley. He gave me his card and told me to call. This could be it.”

Duchess yawned, her eyes growing heavy, the streetlights beginning to blur.

“The Duchess of Cape Haven. You know I always dreamed about having a daughter. Pretty bow in her hair.”

Duchess knew that.

“Do you know about Billy Blue Radley?”

Star smiled. “Your grandfather used to tell me about him. I thought he was making it up.”

“He was real. Radley blood, Mom.” She thought about asking after her father again, but let it slide because she was too beat to get into it.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Sure.”

“Serious, Duchess. Everything I do … all I got, it’s all for the two of you.”

Duchess stared out at the night. “I just wish …”

“What?”

“I just wish there was a middle, you know. Because that’s where people live. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing … sink or swim like that. Most people just tread water, and that’s enough. Because when you’re sinking, you’re pulling us down with you.”

Star wiped her eyes. “I’m trying. I’ll be better. I said my affirmations again this morning. I’ll say them every day. I want to do it for you.”

“Do what?”

“I want to be selfless. Selfless acts, Duchess. They’re what make you a good person.”

It was almost midnight when they drove through town, Duchess dying a little when she saw Darke’s Escalade in the driveway.

They drew up, the gate open, Darke would be in the yard, on the porch, waiting, staring out into nothing in that way that scared her, like he could see something in the shadows. She didn’t like him. He was too quiet, too fucking big, stared too fucking much. She’d seen him outside of school, by the fence, just sitting in his car and watching her.

“I thought you were pulling the midnight shift tonight?” Duchess said.

Star had been cleaning offices over in Bitterwater.

“They … I didn’t show last night so they told me not to come back. Don’t worry about it. I can tend bar at Darke’s place, that’s probably why he’s over.”

“I don’t like you working there.”

Star smiled, then held up the business card again like it was proof of something. “Our luck is turning.”

Duchess scooped up her brother. He was light, thin legs and arms, his hair getting long but she could not afford to take him to Joe Rogers on Main, where the other boys went. She was glad he was too small to notice, the other kids too, it would change soon enough, she worried about that.

Their shared bedroom, posters she’d hung, science and planets, he would be the smart one. One book on the shelf, Max all hungry and wild, but the end, that’s what Robin loved, because the supper showed Max was cared for. She borrowed it from the small library in Salinas, renewed it every other week, two miles each way on her bicycle.

Outside she heard talk. Darke owned the house, Star could not afford the rent. Duchess was old enough to know what that meant, young enough to keep from understanding it.

Her mind ran to her schoolwork, the shit she’d be in if she didn’t complete it. She couldn’t get detention, there’d be no one to collect Robin. Star could not be trusted.

She made the decision to doze till sunrise and get on it early. She parted the drapes. The street slept, across was Milton’s house, the porch light burned all night, moths gathered and fluttered. She saw a fox, graceful as it left light for the shadows. And then, by Brandon Rock’s house, she saw a man, and he was watching her window. He could not see her, the way she stood, back just enough. He was tall, not like Darke, but still tall. Cropped hair, stooped shoulders, like pride had slid right from him.

She lay back in her spot.

And then, as her eyes grew heavy, she heard a scream.

Her mother’s scream.

She moved from the room with practiced care, a girl used to the terrors of night, to a mother who courted the worst of men. Behind her she closed the door, he would sleep, even if he got up he would not remember. He never remembered.

She heard Darke’s voice, steady, like always.

“Calm down.”

She watched through the door, the edge, the room cut into a slice of hell, the lamp on its side, throwing shade over her mother, who lay on the rug. Darke watched her intently, like she was a wild creature he’d just sedated. He was too big, too big for the chair and the small house and too big to take down.

Duchess knew what to do, which boards made noise, and she moved along the hallway to the kitchen. She would not call 911, there would be a record. As she dialed Walk’s cell she heard the noise and turned too late, and then Darke took the receiver from her.

She dug her nails into his hand and clawed until she felt him bleed. He guided her from the kitchen, his hand firm on her shoulder. She scrabbled, knocked the side table down, a photo of Robin came to rest by her eyes, his first day of kindergarten.

Above her Darke stood. “I won’t hurt you, so don’t call the cops on me.” Voice so deep it was almost inhuman. She had heard stories about him, just snippets, that a man cut in front of him on Pensacola and Darke pulled him out of his car and stamped his face to mush. And that he did it with a calm that held bystanders mesmerized.