Just a Number(11)
I arch my body toward him when he brings his hands around and grabs my breasts, and I whimper when he lets them creep down and over my ass. Gripping firmly, he prepares to lift me up onto the kitchen counter…and then the front door opens.
“Amy?” Dad calls out, forcing Owen and me to part like the Red Sea. We’re both wild-eyed and panicked. This is far worse than this morning. “Owen?”
“I’m so sorry,” Owen rushes to apologize, and I shake my head, silently telling him he has no reason to.
When I see that my handprints are still clearly all over Owen’s shirt, I look down at my own shirt and begin to swat at it frantically in an effort to get rid of any incriminating evidence. Owen does the same, and we’re successful in hiding most of it when Dad enters the kitchen.
He looks between Owen and me, one of his eyebrows arched suspiciously, and his eyes widen. “What the hell happened here?”
6. My Sacrifice
My heart races, and I can’t seem to get enough oxygen as panic takes a firm hold of me and squeezes. Alan is going to kill me. He’s going to beat me to death and then force his daughter to help him hide the body as her punishment.
Okay, so this is probably pretty far-fetched, but the room does seem to be getting darker around the outer corners of my vision, and my chest feels tight with every breath I take. How are we going to get ourselves out of this? I look to Amy for help, but she seems just as stunned as me—fearful for her life, even.
“It looks like a bag of flour exploded in here.”
“Oh,” Amy breathes with relief, and my heart slowly returns to a normal pace. “Owen was being a smartass, and I felt the strong urge to throw flour at him. Little did I know he would retaliate.”
“Like I would just sit there and take it,” I rib playfully.
Alan eyes us suspiciously again, but before he can figure everything out with his incredibly in tune powers of observation, Amy smiles and gets back to the forgotten dough. “So, Daddy, what are you doing home so early?”
“Turns out one of the guys isn’t feeling well, so my partner and I have agreed to take the graveyard shift,” he explains. Through my periphery, I can tell Amelia is looking at me, but I can’t bring myself to look her in the eyes. “I just stopped by to grab something to eat for dinner tonight and to let you guys know I won’t be home until late.”
“Okay,” Amelia replies, pressing the last crust into the pan and brushing her hands on the dishtowel to get rid of the flour. “Well, let me make you something for dinner then.”
Amelia rifles through the fridge looking for something to make him while he and I discuss our days so far. Alan seems irritated that Gretchen would show up here after what she did to me.
“I think you need to go out and find some hot, young thing to help you forget all about Gretchen.” Hearing Alan say something so crass isn’t unusual to me, but behind me, Amy starts coughing. We turn to look at her, and she’s setting her knife down with a trembling hand and shaking her head.
“Amy?” Dad inquires, preparing to stand from the table.
Holding up one hand, she clears her throat. Her face is a little red, and I worry that our secret is about to be revealed. She’s never really had a great poker face when it comes to her father. I hold my breath and prepare for the worst. “I’m fine. I just never would have figured you as the type to suggest something like that.”
Alan grumbles gruffly. “The situation more than calls for it.”
I notice a small smile form on her lips as she looks back down at the countertop. “I, um, actually don’t think it’s such a bad idea.” This time, it’s my turn to choke and sputter on the sip of wine I’ve just taken. Finding some kind of sick pleasure in it, she looks at me and shrugs. “I’m just saying, if you’re lucky enough to find someone who’d be willing to help you out with something like that, then why the hell not?”
Alan seems thrilled that Amy’s taken his side—though, I suppose if he knew she was really suggesting that I forget about my cheating wife with her, he might kick me out of the house and lock her in a tower for all eternity.
I guess I’ll just have to keep that to myself.
“Okay, Dad, here’s your dinner. You sticking around for a bit longer?”
Alan looks at his watch and sighs. “Can’t. You two have a good night, and I’ll be home late, so I’ll see you in the morning.” He takes his lunch bag from Amy and kisses the top of her head. “Sleep well, Amy.” Then he turns to me. “Sorry, but now that Amy’s here, you’ll have to take the couch.”