A Better Life Read online

  “Damn!” Curt bemoaned. “That was a bumpy freaking ride! Made Jell-O of my butt! You guys okay?”

  Pete nodded and said nothing.

  Jess, still holding the captive girl’s hand, said, “We’re fine. Good to be out of that thing, though. You think it was tough in the front, try being in the back.”

  Curt laughed. She felt a swell of love for the man. He may have been a lowly mechanic in a run-down garage amidst the dust and death of the desert, but he was a good man, a kind man.

  Not like her father.

  Not like him.

  Curt moved towards her, grinning, and placed a palm on her cheek. Speaking quietly, he said, “You sure you’re okay? I know he can be a bit of a handful…”

  As if on cue, Pete growled. “Okay, now that we’ve all sucked each other’s dicks, can we get inside? I need a fucking drink.”

  “Hey!” Curt snapped. “Not in front of the kid, you understand me!?”

  Pete spit in the sand. “Whatever…” He skulked off, taking in the house.

  “Yeah…whatever…”

  Curt looked down at the little girl, his face softening. “And you, sweetheart…how are you?”

  “I’m okay, I guess,” Emily answered, dutifully.

  Curt smiled. “Good. That’s good. You know that nothing’s going to happen to you, right? We’re not going to hurt you, honey. No one is. This’ll all be over soon, I promise. I want you to know that you’re safe here.”

  Emily nodded. “Okay.”

  “And in the meantime, you have my girl here…” He pointed at Jess. “…to keep you company. The house is pretty darn cool too, and my other friend is inside and has brought along all sorts of toys and things for you. You’ll be fine. Try to think of this as a holiday with friends.”

  Again, a small nod. “Okay.”

  “Okay…Oh, and ignore him.” He nodded at Pete. “He’s a bit of a grump when he doesn’t get his sleep, but you won’t see much of him anyway, darlin’” Curt ruffled the girl’s hair and gave Jess a soft peck on the cheek. “We’d better get inside.”

  From the small patch of dried-up lawn that separated the grand old home from the scorched desert, Pete shouted over his shoulder. “Can we get a fucking move on!? We don’t need to parade the kid out here for all the world to see, do we?”

  “I hear one more curse word in front of that little girl, I’m going to cut off a piece of you that’s too small to sew back on, Pete!” hollered a woman’s voice.

  Jess grinned when she heard the familiar and amusingly fearsome voice pour from the old house’s doorway.

  Curt strolled up the lawn to the porch steps, embracing the portly woman stood there as Pete entered the old house, his face burning red.

  “Hi, sis,” Curt said, kissing the big woman on a flushed, rounded cheek.

  Emily, Jess thought to herself, still grinning, meet Lisa.

  2

  “Not bad…not bad at all,” said Jess, admiring the bedroom as she entered.

  It wasn’t false positivity. The room was nice.

  In fact, it was a whole lot nicer than the flea-bitten, two-room sardine-can that she and Curt called home. She wondered briefly what had made the owners leave this place. It was glorious, even when compared to her own bedroom when she was a child, living in the lap of luxury, spoiled for material want by parents bereft of anything else worthwhile to offer.

  She thought of her old bedroom, full of fineries, overlooking the lights of Vegas from a dizzying height atop her father’s grandest hotel, and thought, I’d take this here room over that one, any day of the working week.

  Jess watched as the young girl’s eyes flitted from toy to toy, book to book. There were dolls and plushies of all shapes and sizes; bears, Disney characters, a large Scooby-Doo replete with goofy smile and lolling tongue, a collection of small, brightly colored ponies that Jess couldn’t place from any cartoon she knew. The books ranged from young adult paperbacks to coloring-books complete with handy selections of crayons or pencils affixed to the covers. There was an old, Victorian dollhouse, inhabited by small forest critters; mice, foxes, badgers. The room itself was dimly lit by a small bedside lamp decorated with stars and crescent moons. The bed, though old and worn, looked soft. Clean and comfortable sheets - supplied by the always reliable Lisa, of course - were the icing on the cake.

  Emily would be fine here.

  Jess watched with pleasure as the young girl sprung onto the bed, light as air, and immediately made for one of the young-adult fiction novels.

  Quietude in a person was not definitive proof of their intellect, but during the ride out to the house, Jess had suspected the girl to be not only self-assured, but admirably bright for her age. She hadn’t been wrong.

  “I’ve heard of this one!” Emily declared, holding aloft a book which featured some sort of looking glass on the cover. Jess couldn’t make out the title as Emily tossed it aside and picked up another. Then another. “And this. And this!”

  Jess laughed. “And what about the toys? You still play with toys, right?”

  Emily stopped fiddling with the books and drew Jess a look that said, ‘are you kidding me?’.

  “I’m eight, Jess. I love toys.”

  Jess tried to conceal her amusement. “That’s great to hear. We wouldn’t want all these cool toys to go to waste, would we?”

  “Nope!”

  Jess laughed aloud. Damn. The girl was cute.

  Suddenly the giddy excitement seemed to ebb from the girl and she flopped back on the bed, her head landing on one of the pillows propped against the headboard.

  “Jess?” she asked.

  “Yes, honey?”

  “How long are you going to keep me here?”

  Jess felt her face flush red. “It shouldn’t be long, sweetheart. No longer than we need to, I promise.”

  “You’re wanting money from my daddy, aren’t you?”

  Jess sat down gently on the side of the bed. The bed sunk in such a manner that her thigh brushed against the girl’s. She felt the warmth of the child and appreciated the contact.

  “Something like that. We’re not bad people, honey. I want you to know that. What the man said outside was the truth. We won’t hurt you. We just need a little something to help us live our lives better, that’s all.”

  “Are you poor?” Emily asked, bluntly.

  Jess laughed. “Yes, I suppose we are poor.”

  “How come?”

  “That’s just how the world works, honey. Not everyone has the chance to reach their potential, even when they deserve it.”

  “What about your mummy and daddy? Can’t you ask them?”

  “My mum is dead, honey.”

  “And your daddy?”

  Jess saw her father leaning over her, drool running from his lips and falling onto her face as she trembled beneath his weight. His shadow taking up the whole world. His breath sour, his nose peppered with a white dust that seemed to drive him to madness. His groin pressed against her leg. A hardness there…

  Jess smiled to conceal her sadness. “He’s dead, too, Emily.”

  Emily rested her open hand on Jess’ leg. “I think you’re nice, Jess. I think you’ll reach your potential,” she said, with a reassurance beyond her years.

  The assurance with which Emily spoke was almost enough to convince Jess of it. Almost. “I hope so, kiddo. I hope so.”

  “I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do everything you need me to do. But one thing…”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “Can I have something to eat? I’m starved.”

  Jess laughed, stood up and made for the bedroom door. “Course you can, Emily. I’ll be up in five minutes with the best darn sandwich this side of the Mojave. That woman down there…my friend…she really knows her way around a sandwich. Prepare to be dazzled!”

  Emily giggled.

  Seeing the girl smile, she wondered why she’d felt so uneased by her demeanor back in the van. “When I come back and…only if you like…you and I can play together for a while. Maybe read a book or do some painting. Whatever you want to do.”

  “I’d like to do any of those.”

  “Me too.” Jess opened the bedroom door. She passed through and made to close it behind her. It pained her to say what she had to say next. She felt sick to her stomach as she uttered the words. “I need to lock this door, Emily…”

  “I know. It’s fine.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Really… it’s okay,” the girl answered, un-phased. “I have my books!”

  Jess smiled then shut the door. She bolted the latch, hating herself for it, took a deep breath and made for the rickety wooden staircase that led to the ground floor of the house where her companions awaited her arrival.

  She was halfway down before she paused, confused.

  She thought back over the conversation with the girl, replaying it in her mind, trying to remember every word they’d shared as best she could.

  Something didn’t sit right.

  What was it, though?

  The girl had been much more communicative since arriving at the house, but that wasn’t it. She’d seemed delighted with the room, too.

  So, what’s eating at you?

  She played the conversation over again, saw the girl wearing that wry expression when she asked her if she liked toys.

  ‘I’m eight, Jess…’

  That was it!

  ‘Jess…’

  How in the hell does she know my name?

  3

  Curt was sat at the end of the table. He stared down at the sandwich Lisa had made for him. It looked delicious; fresh tomatoes, sliced and placed over smoked ham, garnished with a condiment of her own devising, (one which she’d never share with another livin
g soul, even on pain of death), and crisp lettuce, all squeezed between two thick slices of whole-wheat bread.

  The condiment was the special ingredient that sealed the deal. It was out of this world.

  Yet Curt had no appetite.

  Lisa was over by the kitchen sink, staring out into the fading light. Pete, Curt’s workmate and a grade-a asshole at the very best of times, was working his way to the bottom of a bottle of Becks. Not the first bottle he’d had, either.

  And was that the smell of liquor I detected on his breath earlier?

  Yeah…yeah, I’m pretty sure it was.

  Let it go. For now.

  If he keeps at it…

  He won’t.

  But if he does…

  He heard Jess coming down the stairs before he saw her and immediately looked up, not wanting to miss a thing.

  Holy Jesus, she was something.

  Her shoulder-length hair - a dark and shining brown – swayed from side to side as she skipped down the remaining stairs. Her full breasts pressed against the Velvet Underground t-shirt she wore, disfiguring a smirking, oh-so-cool looking Lou Reed as he oozed drug-chic. Tight jeans clung to her long, lithe legs, tightening further at the ankles. She wore sandals that showed off her slender feet. Her toenails were painted grass-green.

  It was her eyes, though, that truly took his breath away.

  Behind those beautiful almond eyes of hers resided her true beauty. Past the pain, past the sadness…a determination and will to fight that had quickly won his heart. Her soul.

  And after all these years together, not for a single moment had he felt anything for Jess besides love, admiration and an ever-replenishing bucketful of good old-fashioned lust.

  She was one hell of a woman.

  And she was a survivor.

  Just like he was.

  It pained Curt that he’d been forced to make Pete ride back there with her and the kid, but Pete was a wild driver and Curt had no intentions of putting either the kid or Jess in harm’s way, especially when the moron was already getting his buzz on from the booze.

  Curt sincerely hoped that, for Jess, being able to ride along with the little girl made up for Pete’s unsavory company. Jess’ heart was as vibrant as her smile and she positively loved children. They had no kids of their own, he and Jess, not with each other and not with anyone else, and he knew the hurt it caused his wife. Spending time with the girl would be good for Jess.

  I just wish it were under different circumstances.

  Can’t always get what you want in this life.

  It had been a good idea, having her ride with the kid, despite Jess’ fragile condition, both physically and emotionally.

  It was worth the risk, he told himself, just to see her glowing as she’d climbed into the van with the kid.

  Curt watched the woman he loved descend the stairs and move towards him. She wore a bemused expression on her face, as though something troubled her. Perhaps not ‘troubled’, but, certainly, something was on her mind.

  There was no time to inquire before Jess spoke.

  “Emily’s hungry,” she said.

  “Aren’t we all,” Pete interjected.

  Lisa huffed from her place by the window, “Then eat something, Pete, instead of hitting the fucking bottle like it’s prohibition-era Chicago. What are you, an idiot?”

  Curt stifled a laugh. Jess’ silence spoke volumes.

  His sister, Lisa, was a feisty creature and not one to be messed with. She always managed to shut Pete up real fast. That tough-guy exterior of his never failed to crumble and dissolve when Curt’s older sibling was around.

  As Jess pulled out a chair and sat by his side at the table, Curt watched Pete with amusement, curious to see how the man would react.

  “I was just saying,” Pete grumbled.

  He sounded like a ten-year-old kid, freshly scolded.

  Lisa ignored him. Over her shoulder she asked, “I have some sandwiches here, Jess. You wanna grab a selection and take them up to the little princess? She could use something to eat, poor child. Stuck in that van for so long with nothing to fill her belly.”

  “She was just saying the same thing,” Jess responded. “They all made with your secret sauce, Mama?”

  “You damn well know it, sister.”

  “Nice! She’ll love ‘em.”

  “And don’t you mind Pete. He means no harm. Just a miserable son of a bitch, is all. I should know…I married him, once upon a time.”

  Jess blurted out laughter, Curt damn near choked.

  “Give it a rest, Lisa,” Pete moaned. “I ain’t in the mood for your shit.”

  Lisa, Curt realized, was far from finished. “I saw the way you were talking in front of that precious little girl, Pete. You’re a no-good sonofabitch and ain’t no one will ever convince me of anything different. Just what in the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

  Pete slammed his near-empty bottle of Becks on the table. “It was my goddamn idea, woman!”

  Lisa noticeably flinched when Pete’s bottle hit the table. Not for the first time, he wondered if, behind the bravado, she feared Pete. And if so, why?

  If I ever find out that he hurt her…

  Lisa went back to staring out the window. As an afterthought, she added. “That was it,” Lisa responded, sounding far less playful. “But hell, don’t feel too good about it. Even a broken clock tells the right time, twice daily. You managed only once in over a decade.”

  Jess grimaced, sensing the atmosphere stretch from gentle ribbing to something more serious.

  “The only damn thing I ever done right was leaving your fat ass in the dust.”

  “Hey!” Curt snarled. “You don’t ever talk to my sister that way again, you hear me? You do and you’ll be scooping up your teeth with a spoon, Pete! Where I come from, we treat women with respect. Mind your manners!”

  Pete piped down quick, though he continued to sulk.

  What Lisa said had been true, Pete was a mean, miserable bastard, but he was weak. He saw himself as a lion, but lions were courageous, noble creatures.

  Pete was many things, but nobility and courage were not among his attributes.

  What he was, was an ex-con. The type of asshole who coasted by on the misfortune of others. The kind who rarely earned and often took. The only reason he’d even accepted the job at Curt’s garage had been down to it being a prerequisite of his parole. The only reason Curt had offered it, was down to his older sister being married to the man at the time.

  What Lisa had once seen in Pete, Curt had no idea, yet while it was true that Pete was a no-good drunk and a leech, the depth of Lisa’s hatred for the man had often seemed…severe…to Curt. Again, he wondered, as he often did, if there was more to their break-up than Pete simply being Pete.

  In the end, it made little difference; Lisa and Pete had a kid together – a handsome, gentle boy of ten-years-old, named Billy – and so were tied together for the duration of this weird old thing called life. And family was family.

  Worried for little Billy, Curt had offered the father of his nephew the job and had held his tongue and curbed his patience ever since, even during the divorce and in the years afterwards.

  The parents being divorced didn’t mean his nephew shouldn’t be provided for, so he’d kept Pete on as a mechanic - the one and only skill the man had at his disposal.

  And until this whole…road trip…had begun, Curt had also managed to keep Pete away from his own home life and away from Jess. It ate away at him that she was even near the unscrupulous bastard…as though his sly, insidious nature were an affront to Jess’ purity. As though it could taint her, somehow.

  But needs must.

  And the whole crazy, desperate thing they were doing had been Pete’s idea.

  Jess let out a rasping cough, pulling Curt from thoughts of his workmate. She reached into her shirt pocket to retrieve a hanky and raised it to her lips. “Excuse me,” she said quietly. She looked frail, worn-out, weak. Curt thought he saw a trace of crimson on the handkerchief and felt something twist and churn inside him.

  “Are you okay, baby?” he asked her, worriedly.

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Listen, if you need to lie down…”

  “Curt…baby…I’m fine. Just lost my breath for a moment there. Steep stairs, you know…?”