Page 57 of Jig's Last Dance
“What about Ice Man? Did he um, with women?”
She cocks her head to the side, studying me like an ant under a magnifying glass. “That’s your dad?”
Slowly I nod, clenching my hand into a fist. She frowns before she says, “No, I don’t think he participated, but he had to have known.”
“Okay,” I say, sucking in a breath. “You never heard what happened to him?”
“I—”
“Iris? Hurry the fuck up!” John barks, and I gasp, pressing back against the shower wall.
Iris looks at me in warning, but it’s too late. The door swings open. I slide to the floor and push against the wall. Iris’ insistence on shoving me into the shower makes sense now because he can’t see me unless he looks around the open door.
“I’m shitting,” she snarls.
“Hurry the fuck up, or I’m going to take it out on your ass!”
I shrink at the vehemence of his words, but Iris is unaffected. She stares at him and waves her hand. “You know I can’t shit while you watch. Dirty fucker.”
Incredulous, I stare, but he does close the door. She huffs and turns to me in warning before a full minute passes where I think I might pass out.
After, she stands from the toilet and flushes before running her hands under the water. Glancing at me in the mirror, she says, “I don’t know what happened to him, but you might find more at my house.”
“Your house? Rain—”
“Don’t worry about her. It’s empty,” Iris hisses. Slowly, I nod, gasping when she grabs my arm. “Now me.”
I nod, suppressing a wince because her grip fucking hurts, but it’s her creepy ass stare that keeps me immobile. “In my room, under the bed in a pink box, is another small wooden box. Take it.”
“Take it where?” I ask, searching her gaze.
“Just take it. Keep it. I’ll get it from you later.”
She’s gone before I can comment, and I sit in the damn bathtub for ten minutes before emerging. Although that whole weird-ass interlude felt like a lifetime, it was only twenty minutes.
I have five hours before I should head back to school. The walk is just enough time for me to calm down before my pulse starts to race again. Just because Iris said no one is here doesn’t mean it’s true. How the fuck would she know anyway?
For this reason, I slow and assess the situation before approaching. It looks quiet, I don’t see anyone in the windows, and the driveway is empty. But again, that could mean jack shit.
Meandering toward the house, I cut through the yard of the neighbor and hide behind their bushes before crossing into the side yard of Iris’ home. There’s a fence separating the back, but luckily, it’s unlocked. I slip through before sliding against the side of the house.
The yard behind is overgrown with weeds, once-tended rose bushes now wild and free. The sweet fragrance tickles my nose as I ease along the wall and peek through the sliding glass door.
The furniture is covered in sheets and otherwise empty.
Feeling marginally better, I try the door, unsurprised to find it locked. Walking around the house, I try each window, about to give up when the window on the side leading into what appears to be a den, opens. Fist pumping the air, I hitch my leg over the sill and flop to the floor with a grunt. Fuck me. Being short sucks balls.
After brushing off my ass again, I look around the room. It’s dark in here, and I open the shades a smidge to see by. There’s nothing but a couch and a television. No drawers, no shelves, no nothing.
With my heart thundering in my chest, I creep out into the hall, tiptoeing past the kitchen and turning into the living area. I’m assuming no one would hide nefarious shit in the middle of the living space, so I bypass that and head up the stairs.
At the first door on the right, I poke my head inside. The space is clean, with just a bed and a dresser. I open the drawers, but they’re empty, the closet the same with just the hangers. The bed is made under the cloth, and there’s nothing beneath it. If this was Iris’ room, it was emptied since she’s last been here.
The next room on the left is the master, and with shaking limbs, I close myself inside. The bed is also covered by a cloth. I start with the bedside drawers and squeak when I find sex toys in the bottom right.
Fuck me. The next few reveal nothing but a Bible, some loose papers, and other detritus that are meaningless to me. The dresser drawers are filled with nothing but clothes.
In the closet, I start at the back, pulling down boxes filled with memories, winter garments, and more papers. Each box reveals life beyond what I know, and as I rifle through the contents, I feel a spark of sadness for Iris. How did she get from this beautiful home to where she is now? With her fucking stepfather, no less?