Unbeautifully(7)

I hadn’t even had the advantage of leaning on my real mother. When I was eight, she’d left us, moved to Forsyth, a forty-minute drive from Miles City, but where Cage and I were concerned, she might as well have been in another country. She worked ten-hour shifts waitressing at a diner, after which she spent her nights drinking with whatever skeezy boyfriend she had at the time. She called infrequently and rarely kept dates to see us.

And now . . .

Eva was out of bed. She was eating, showering, once again taking care of herself and her daughter.

My father was back on his bike, back at the club, doing what needed to be done.

But things weren’t the same. When they were home together or at the club, their relationship seemed strained. They never did anything together anymore, they rarely spoke to each other unless it concerned Ivy, and eventually my father reverted to his old behavior. Not coming home for days at a time, and even when he did, he was still sleeping almost every night at the club. And Eva, she didn’t seem to care what he did. She spent most of her time with Kami and Devin, and her trips home to her family in New York City became more and more frequent.

Cage had easily reverted to his old idiotic self—joking, drinking, and womanizing. He was always either at the club or out on a run. And me . . .

Because of my grades, Montana State University was no longer an option for me, not until I completed two years at Miles Community College. Which outright sucked.

My two closest friends, Anabeth and Ellie, were going to MSU. The three of us had planned for years to go off to college together, to room together since we always did everything together. Until my family fell apart and I’d been forced to take on responsibilities that took me away from my life.

A life I didn’t have anymore.

I scanned the gymnasium, decorated to the theme of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The floor was littered with giant multicolored papier-mâché trees covered in tinsel; silver stars and moons hung from a ceiling covered corner to corner with pastel-colored balloons. It was beautiful; it was everything I’d wanted it to be when I’d still been on the planning committee. And instead of enjoying it, I was standing in the hallway watching my date bump and grind the school slut to Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby’s Got Back.”

Even worse, I didn’t care.

“Danny?”

Finally. I’d called the club over an hour ago asking for a ride.

I glanced back over my shoulder and found Ripper, as usual, in head-to-toe leather. Leather pants, leather boots, a tight Metallica T-shirt, and his leather Horsemen cut. His long blond hair was pulled back in a man bun, he had a toothpick between his teeth, and a pair of aviator sunglasses hid his missing eye.

“What the fuck are you doin’ out here instead of in there with all your . . .” He trailed off as he surveyed the gym. “ . . . with all those stupid-looking fucks,” he finished, making a disgusted face. “Never mind. I know exactly why you don’t wanna be here.”

“You didn’t go to your prom?” I asked.

“Naw. Split Cali at seventeen. Didn’t even finish high school.”

I nodded. “Okay.” I sighed, turning my back on what was supposed to be my last happy memory of high school. “Let’s go.”

“Danny girl,” Ripper said quietly, not having moved an inch. “Girl’s gotta dance at her prom. And you lookin’ the way you’re lookin’, at least one dance, baby.” He held out his hand. “End of an era, ya know.”

I looked up at his beautiful, ruined face, wondering how he did it. How he managed to keep going after what Frankie had done to him. Frankie hadn’t done anything to me, not outright anyway. I’d gotten the backlash of Frankie; his actions had caused a domino effect in which I’d been the last to fall down, with everyone else piled on top of me. I wasn’t so sure I’d gotten back up yet.

I wasn’t so sure any of us had.

“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “But I don’t really see the point.”

Ripper walked me out on the dance floor during the beginning of Sarah McLachlan’s “I Will Remember You.”

“Terrible fuckin’ music,” he muttered, pulling me up against his chest and holding tight to my waist. My four-inch heels allowed me enough extra height to put my arms around his neck and rest my cheek against his worn leather cut.

From across the room, I could see both Anabeth and Ellie gaping at me.

Whatever. I closed my eyes. I didn’t care what they thought. I didn’t care what anyone thought anymore.

And . . . this really wasn’t so bad. We weren’t actually dancing, just swaying slightly. Ripper felt tense and I got the feeling he had never danced before, but it was nice and I felt myself start to relax for the first time since everything had fallen apart.