Page 47 of Rolling Thunder
“Eventually, I mortgaged the farm and paid in full to put my mom in a top-notch rehab program for three months. After only a couple of weeks, she checked herself out early and went right back on the shit. The farm income wasn’t nearly enough to pay the mortgage, so I had to go back to the club. I’ve been doing one night a week for the past six months or so. Last month was the first time I had enough money from the horses so I wouldn’t go when Trent wanted me to.”
“The night we went to the Sleepy Tiki,” he filled in quietly.
She nodded, then paused, waiting for any of the possible responses. Condemnation. Worse, excitement. The absolute worst were the men who were turned on by it.
“Is that a deal breaker for you?” she demanded finally.
“I get the feeling you’re trying to run me off so you don’t have to tell me the rest.”
And that was the God’s honest truth. She took a long drag on her cigarette and suddenly was unable to speak again.
“Do you want to be a stripper?”
“No. I fucking hate it.”
“It’s not a deal breaker. What’s a deal breaker is you shutting me out when I should be protecting you.”
“God, why can’t you just get mad at me?” she demanded.
“Why, so you don’t have to tell me what’s really going on?”
“Yes!” she cried desperately, her throat feeling thick.
He stood up and stepped in front of her on her track of pacing.
She stopped.
“You came here because you need my help. I’m here, baby. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Nothing you say is going to change my mind.”
He gently put his hands on her face and held her still while he kissed her mouth. It was a tender kiss, reassuring.
Fortified, she struggled on. He went back to his chair, and she raised her whiskey bottle once more, surprised at how light it had become.
“The cops are after Trent, I guess. He’s afraid I’m going to talk. So he’s threatening me. He’s threatening to tell you everything unless I keep quiet and go back to work for him. I’d basically rather die. He threatened to hurt Canyon Bill.”
Her voice broke a little, and it was the first she knew of the emotion welling up inside her as she tried to get this out. She stood perfectly still, taking thin breaths and trying to swallow down the desperation threatening to erupt from her.
He walked slowly back to her. “But if you tell me everything, he’s got nothing on you anymore. And you know I won’t let him hurt you,” he filled in, quiet and steady.
She gulped the whiskey. Her throat warmed and her stomach rolled. This was her last chance to bail, and he had so far not given her an excuse to run. Only her conscience stood in the way now.
“If I tell you, you’re involved. It’s the kind of shit you’ve just spent the last five years of your life trying to get away from.”
He took the bottle out of her shaking hand and set it down on the railing. When she swayed a little, he took her hand. His hand felt so warm and strong, and she felt cold despite the unusually balmy night. He led her back to the swing and sat her down. After pulling a chair up in front of her, he sat, still holding her hand. “Then I guess you’re just going to have to trust me. I want you to tell me.”
She held his hand and thought, to let it go would be impossible now. “My mother waited tables in his bar. Bought drugs from him. But he had his eye on me. We never had enough money. My mother put it all in her arm. My grandma wouldn’t give her money after we left the farm. Not even for me, because it never made it to me, and she knew it. So, my mother got me a fake ID so he could cover his ass, and I started dancing.”
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen when I met him. First, we were sort of…dating. I was fifteen when he convinced me to dance. I had a set. He called it Sweet Sixteen. It was very popular. The club did well. My mother had lots of drug money, but there were some fans who weren’t content with just the show. They wanted to fuck me. And Trent was always talking about how good the money was. I wouldn’t do it. I already had to get so drunk just to get on stage, there wasn’t enough booze in the world to get me to where I could let them touch me.”
She pulled out another cigarette, and he lit it for her without waiting for her to try. His steady gaze was no longer a comfort. Now it was a searchlight exposing the worst thing she’d ever done. She got up and paced away from him again.
“Sometimes we’d stay after the club closed and party. Now, I hear the girls whispering about how you can’t take a drink from Trent after hours, but I didn’t know that, then. And I drank with him after the club closed one night. I woke up with five hundred dollars on a table in the back room. He had a video. He still has it. He’s kept it all these years.”
She stood still, leaning on the four-by-four supporting the porch roof, smoking in the dark. “He’s going to show you the video so you’ll know I’m a whore, if I don’t do what he wants.”
“Let him. I’ll break his neck.” The anger in his voice surprised and scared her. “He let some man rape you and then kept the evidence of his crime? Either I kill him, or I take you to the cops.”