Chasing Taboo

The living room was still cluttered with last night’s empties, the TV screen was starting to get a little cloudy from dusting neglect, and Ace was cleaning his Sig Sauer at the coffee table. It would have been a quiet, sleepy night at 912 if Tyrone, a veteran non-Asian Blade, hadn’t showed up at eleven o’clock to drop off gang dues. Stone was relaxing, lazily overseeing the operation at the kitchen table as Wildcard took care of business. Stone rocked his chair to and fro, his fingers interlaced with boredom as Ace was off in his own world in the living room. It was indeed a pretty calm night, but only by 912 standards.

“A’ight, here it is,” said Tyrone, sliding three stacks of cash across the kitchen table. “That covers Cojack, Bones, and Lil Jay.”

With a lit cigarette rested on his lips, Wildcard counted the cash and cross referenced it with Hero’s ledger. “It’s all good.” He tucked the money into a folder.

Thump. Stone tilted his head as the first sound came from upstairs.

“Hold up, nigga,” grumbled Tyrone, “I didn’t drive my happy ass up here to watch you tuck my money into no folder. I want to see that shit go into the safe, I wanna witness that shit.”

“Fuck you.” Wildcard’s eye squinted into a glare. “You know Hero’s the only one who got the combination.”

“Well where the fuck is Hero?”

Thump. Thump—crash. Tyrone looked up this time.

Wildcard looked at him questioningly. “What the fuck is the problem?”

Tyrone looked back at him. “My problem is Hero. We gettin’ real sick of that bitch-ass nigga, he never come down no more. He breeze on in actin’ all high and mighty and shit, but what – half the locks on the front doors down there is still broken, air conditioner don’t work in half the damn building, and it smells like shit.”

Thump. Stone sneered. Thump-thump-thump. Tyrone looked up again.

“Well, stay up on the hustle and we gonna get your shit fixed,” said Wildcard. “Your priority is gettin’ paid.”

“Gettin’ paid? Nigga, I am gettin’ paid, don’t—”

Thump.

“God dammit, what the fuck is all that muh-fuckin’ noise?”

“That…” sighed Stone, earning him all the attention in the room. “…is Hero handlin’ his business.”

Thump. Stone perked his head up. “Sounds like Olivia’s winning.”

The thumps suddenly ceased, and Olivia was dashing down the stairs, a shirtless Hero close behind her. All eyes in the kitchen were pointed toward the action.

“Where the fuck you going?” asked Hero.

“I’m going home,” snapped Olivia.

“Fuck no, what, you gonna walk to the motherfucking station?”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

Ace’s attention was no longer on his firearm.

“I know you’re stupid and crazy,” said Hero, “but can you just take the dumb bitch hat off for one night?”

She looked back at him. “Did you just call me a dumb bitch?”

“No, but you’re acting like a dumb bitch. It ain’t safe walking out there. It’s late—don’t forget what neighborhood you’re in.”

She reached for the door handle. “Then drive me.”

His shoulders slumped. “No.”

She leaned her head in. “Because…?”

Hero looked over his shoulder. “Because I said no, that’s why. You don’t need to be leaving.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why? It ain’t—”

Beep.

Hero tensed. “Christ, chag’ya, I’ll get you a battery—”

“Goodnight, Hero.”

Olivia opened the door, but Hero wasn’t done yet.

“Hey, what’s with the fucking rush? What, your mom can’t TiVo ‘The Hills’ for you?”

“Fuck you, you know, maybe I’d stay if you weren’t such a knuckle-dragging simian.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you, too. My regards to Paris and Nicky.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be late on Friday, or I’ll never let you forget it.” She kissed him. “I love you.”

He smirked. “I love you too. Dumb bitch.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too.” And she left with another angry crash of the door.

Tyrone swung his chair toward Wildcard and Stone, shaking his head. “That pussy is gon’ be the end of him.”

Ace followed Hero with his eyes as he turned around and headed back up the stairs.

“What the fuck is going on Friday?” he asked.

Hero stopped and looked back down the stairs. “I’m going to dinner.”

“Just dinner? With O?” He frowned. “Where y’all going?”

Hero paused and looked down the stairs. “Her house.”

“Her house?” Ace couldn’t hide his puzzlement. “Why y’all having dinner at her house for? That shit is fucking far.”

“Why the fuck do you care?”

“What? I’m just asking.”

Hero continued to make his way up the stairs, only piquing Ace’s curiosity.

Ace raised an eyebrow. “Her momma gonna be there?”

Hero sighed. “Yes, alright? Her momma and her daddy.” He lowered his voice a bit. “And her grandparents.”

Ace stared at Hero. Hero stared back.

Hero raised his brow. “What?”

“So… O asked you to go to dinner with her folks?”

Hero turned and around and walked. “Yeah, so?”

Ace followed his curiosity right up the stairs behind his brother. “So… she actually asked you to do that?”

Hero kept walking. “Yeah.”

 Ace kept following. “Like, ‘Hey, Hero, since you gonna fit in so nicely at the country club, why don’t you—’”

“Why is your accepting of this simple fact malfunctioning so severely?” asked Hero, trying to make his way into his room alone. He failed. “Yes, Olivia asked me.”

“But, you see, I can’t seem to picture her doing that.” Ace cornered his brother in the doorframe. “In fact, the only mental picture I got is you passive aggressively tormenting her until she caved in and let you do this.”

 “Ace,” said Hero with an omniscient glare, “we gonna have a problem here?”

“Problem, what problem?”

“A ‘you-fucked-my-girlfriend-and-now-you-got-a-bug-up-your-ass’ problem, because I’ll be honest with you, I ain’t got time for this petty ass bullshit.”

“Fuck you. That shit is cold. Maybe I’m looking after you, ever think of that shit? This girl came out of nowhere and we treating her like she’s one of us – and I got plenty of reasons to think she ain’t.”

“Like what?” Hero smirked. “The fact that she chose me over you?”

Ace frowned.  “Which one of us is being petty?” He shook his head. “You know what? Good luck at dinner. I’m sure Olivia’s folks are gonna be real impressed with you.”

 

It was Friday night, a busy night in the city for the Blades, and the first sound to break the silence of the empty house was Seneka opening the door. Wildcard gently pointed her toward the stairs, his giggling breath tickling her neck before he shut the door behind them with his foot. His audible, boyish grin chased her up the stairs as he spanked her ass up to the landing.

“Come on, go on, get up there!”

“Wildcard!” she snapped. “This ain’t all that sexy, you rushin’ me like this.”

He grabbed her arm and yanked her into the bedroom, grasping her hips and pulling them into his as he slammed the door behind them.

“You make me crazy, girl.” He kissed her viciously, rushing her mouth with his tongue.

She pushed his chest away. “Hold on, there ain’t no romance in this, Dub C.”

“Bitch, there ain’t no time for no romance!” His eyes were far kinder than his words. “Shorty, come on, if I’m a tap that ass we gotta hit that shit now. My nigga’s gettin’ his grub on with his bitch’s people and the rest of them fools is at the club, now get yo shit wet and on my dick while we got some time!” He pressed his lips to her neck and pulled her straps from her shoulders. “Come on, you know I’m gonna make it real good for ya.”

She closed her eyes, let herself fall into it, let herself enjoy the passion in his strong arms as he peeled her clothes away, the sweet softness of his tongue on her skin…

Buzz.

“Shit, it’s my phone,” she said.

“Fuck your phone. You busy with your man now.”

“What if it’s important?”

“It ain’t important. Get your head straight.”

She stepped away from him, gave him a look that only Seneka could give Wildcard, and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She looked down and read the text message, and her shoulders sank.

“What?” frowned Wildcard. “What? Who is it?”

“…Hero.”

“What the fuck Hero want?”

She lifted her eyes, but said nothing.

“Fuck, let me see that shit.” Wildcard took the phone, and he read.

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”

 “What the fuck is this shit?” Wildcard fumed. He dropped the phone on the floor. “You best ignore that shit. Come on, let’s get on with it.”

He pulled her shirt over her head. Just as his lips were on hers, once again, the phone buzzed.

“What the fuck does that bitch want now?” Wildcard couldn’t help himself. He read the phone.

“Make him wear two condoms. Idiocy may not be a sexually transmitted disease, but at least protect your uterus from his mentally-deficient seed.”

“What the fuck is this shit?” Wildcard fumed. “That dumb mother fucker—”

“He’s just worried about me, is all. He got good intentions.”

“Good intentions my ass, I’m calling this nigga, he needs to quit bein’ all up in my shit.”

“Wildcard—”

But the phone was already ringing. Seneka tried to get in a word of defiance, but Wildcard just raised his hand to silence her.

“Nigga, what the fuck is wrong with you?” With the phone to his ear, Wildcard’s hand remained lifted to Seneka’s face, testing her patience. “Get the fuck out of my biz, shit, I ain’t about to get your pussy, just sit over there at your snow bunny’s house and have a Coke and smile and shut the fuck up!”

Seneka folded her arms and pouted hard. Her boys would always be her boys.

[SWORD]

Dinner had barely begun, only two plates had hit the table, and Hero had already dashed out to the back patio to take an ‘important phone call.’ Olivia went after him, only to find herself facing his back, the anger in his voice cracking over the threshold of a whisper.

“You better wrap that shit up, you dumb fuck, I ain’t even tryin’ to fuck with no more kids up in this clan—we had enough bullshit ass drama goin’ on wit—hello?” Hero jerked his head to the side, every muscle hardening with fury. “Fuck—you fuckin’ bitch!” He jerked the phone down and turned around. “That bitch hung up on me!”

Olivia’s mouth was well parted. “You’ve been at my house for ten minutes and you’ve already gone ghetto?”

He looked away and scoffed. “Olivia—”

She raised an authoritative finger at him. “Don’t even start.” Her mouth went tight as spooled wire. “Just once, Hero, just this one time, I need you to leave Sequoia Grove in Sequoia Grove, okay? I’ve never asked you for anything, but just this once, you better fucking cool your gangsta heels, do you understand?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah—”

“I mean it.”

“But that dumb redheaded fuck is violating my sister—”

“I don’t give a shit! All I care about is getting through tonight without having a fucking heart attack, okay? You’re the one who wanted to come here so bad.”

Hero raised his finger right back at her, looking through the window to check the commotion around the dinner table before lowering his voice.

“Correction. I never said I wanted to be here. I just said I didn’t want Ace to be here. Don’t get shit twisted.”

“That’s a fucking technicality and you know it.”

“Well, maybe I’d be a little nicer if you weren’t such a—”

“—stop being such a baby and admit that—”

“—my life south of the freeway ain’t gonna go on hold just ‘cause—”

Olivia’s father opened the sliding glass door. “Hey!”

Hero and Olivia both pointed their faces toward the interruption.

“Dinner’s ready,” said Dan. “Olivia, you mind making drinks?”

She managed a tight smile. “Sure.” She flashed Hero one hard glare of warning before they went back inside.

Olivia’s grandmother, Elizabeth, was in her late seventies, but she made damn sure no one could tell. She kept her white hair colored platinum blond, she always kept herself in moderately priced modern fashion, and she always wore stylish shoes. Her husband Larry was equally well-kept, but he in no way could compete with his wife’s ostentatious nature.

Elizabeth loved to criticize all of her daughter’s decisions, but to Margaret’s advantage, that all went out the window if they could team up together and gang up on Olivia instead. These dinners with Grannie and Grandpa were always a nightmare, but now that Dan forced Hero into the mix, it was guaranteed to send Olivia straight into an even deeper downward spiral of shame and frustration.

So there they were. Mashed Potatoes. Chicken. Wine. Placemats. Crystal glasses. Margaret. Dan. Olivia. Elizabeth. Larry. And Hero. Let the games begin.

“So tell me, Hero,” said Elizabeth, bringing her hands together, “what do you do?”

“I own a night club.” Hero took a sip of his wine, and Olivia could see his eyes hardening with focus as he calculated his next move.

“A nightclub?” Elizabeth smiled and looked at her husband, who sat stoic and out of focus. “How glamorous. And you own it. That’s lovely, to own your own business.”

Hero smiled behind his glass. “Thank you.”

“So where do you live?”

He put his glass down. “Sequoia Grove.”

“Sequoia Grove? Wow. What a place! How can you stand it? Such animals down there.”

Hero shrugged. “It’s home.”

“It’s those housing projects that really killed the area,” added Elizabeth, looking at the others at the table. “It used to be a nice place, lots of shopping and things like that. Until they put all that Section 8 housing down there, attracting all those squatters.”

Hero twisted his mouth. “We get by. They mind their own business.”

Olivia heard a silently implied ‘as should you’ after he closed his sentence.

“I’m sure that while Olivia is down there visiting you, you keep her away from the more dangerous areas,” said Dan sternly, before chomping on a chicken leg.

“Hero doesn’t tell me where to go,” said Olivia. “It’s not—”

“I can’t control where she is at all times,” Hero interrupted. “All I can do is guarantee that she is perfectly safe if she’s with me.”

“I can guarantee the same thing,” grumbled Dan.

Just as Olivia could hear Hero’s silence, she also heard her father’s. His eyes were asking, ‘Where were you when she got those bruises?’

Elizabeth laughed. She tried to hide that it was a nervous laugh, but she failed miserably. “Oh, Dan, you always make me laugh. Already trying to see who the alpha male is, I love it.”

“Oh, I have no intention to challenge Olivia’s father,” insisted Hero.

“But he has every intention to challenge you,” said Elizabeth. “So tell me about your night club, Hero.”

Olivia sat up straighter. “It’s really nice. It’s spacious, it has a great patio, and—”

“She didn’t ask you,” interrupted Margaret. “She asked Hero.”

Elizabeth looked at her daughter. “It’s fine, no need to cut her off.”

“Olivia is just trying to make me look good,” said Hero. “I appreciate that.” He smiled at Olivia.

Olivia poured another full dose of wine into her glass.

Margaret twisted her shoulders forward. “You must be doing very well for yourself at your club, Hero. I saw some of the things you’ve bought for my daughter.”

“Margaret!” Elizabeth snapped. “That’s none of your business, is it?”

“It’s fine, Olivia and I don’t intend to keep any secrets,” said Hero. “Yes, Mrs. Cunnington, I’m doing very well at the club. Business is good.”

“Where is the club?” asked Margaret.

“Mom!”

“What? That’s not a personal question at all.”

Hero shot Olivia a confident, stern look. He looked back toward Margaret. “It’s not the wealthiest area, but I supplement my income.” He sipped his wine.

“How, might I ask, do you do that?” Margaret was in full interrogation mode.

Hero stayed behind his glass. “I run an import export business on the side.”

“See?” said Elizabeth. “He runs another business. He’s ambitious. Asians are such industrious people.”

Hero swallowed a laugh and Olivia felt like dying.

“Maybe…” started Elizabeth, as her husband continued to say nothing, “maybe you could rub off on our little Olivia a little bit.”

Olivia suppressed a sneer.

“She’s so smart and so talented,” said Elizabeth. “She should be doing something more with her life than pushing buttons on a cash register.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Margaret with a sharp grin. “I keep saying she should get project management certification. She doesn’t need a degree for that, and lots of people are making lots of money in that industry. Every company needs a project manager.”

“I’m not saying she should quit Barrington’s,” said Elizabeth. “I’m saying she should move to a different department, or at least look into moving up to a management position. If she starts at the bottom of the company, she should at least consider looking forward to higher paying jobs. She could be a buyer at the corporate office.”

“I don’t see Olivia as a buyer,” said Dan. “She’s not the corporate office type.”

“I don’t either,” said Margaret. “She’s not a desk jockey. She’s headstrong and stubborn. She needs to be in a position of leadership.”

“What’s a better way to be a leader than to start from the bottom of an established company like Barrington’s?” said Elizabeth. “She’s much safer staying in—”

Olivia raised her hand like a middle school student. “Well, I—”

“Quiet, sweetheart,” snapped Margaret. “Your grandmother was talking. You weren’t raised in a barn.”

Hero’s back was pressed into his chair and he had one eyebrow lifted.

“It’s fine,” said Elizabeth. “If she has something to say, let her say it.”

Olivia glanced at Hero, then back at her table. “Well, I was just going to say that… um…” She looked back up. “Never mind. Isn’t tonight supposed to be about you guys meeting Hero?” She looked at each of her parents, begging a little. “We don’t need to talk about all this right now, do we? I mean, it’s boring.”

“I don’t think it’s boring at all,” said Hero. “It’s your future, there’s nothing less boring than that.”

Margaret leaned into the table. “So what do you think, Hero? What do you think is best for Olivia? I’m honestly curious.”

Hero shrugged. “I don’t know. You ever asked her?”

Margaret scowled. Hard.

Dan chuckled. “Of course we’ve asked her.”

“Have you?” Hero asked. He looked at Olivia. “What do you want to do with your life, chag’ya?”

Olivia prayed he wouldn’t ask her that, but her prayers were apparently unanswered. She looked down, and with a slump of her shoulders, she sighed. “I don’t know.”

“See?” said Margaret. “She doesn’t know.”

Elizabeth snickered and took a sip of her wine. “Well, she better figure it out, that’s all I’m saying.”

Hero looked her in the eye. “But that’s not all your saying. You’re saying a lot more. A lot more commands that you pretend are just suggestions.”

Elizabeth’s cool veneer went red-hot. “Excuse me?”

Hero glanced at Olivia, his eyes reading an advanced apology. Then he looked back at Elizabeth. “I do believe you heard me, ma’am.”

“Ah, now I see where Olivia’s recent attitude suddenly came from,” said Margaret. She relaxed into her chair.

“And now I see where Olivia’s old attitude came from,” said Hero. He looked at Olivia. “Chag’ya, have these folks ever let you make a single damn one of your own decisions your whole life?”

Dan sat up. “Hey, we have always—”

“I didn’t ask you,” snapped Hero. “I asked her.”

Larry finally chimed in. “You know, things are getting a little heated. I think we all need to step back—”

“No, what we need to do is step forward,” corrected Hero. He kept his eyes on Olivia. “Olivia, your life is yours, not theirs. You understand that?”

Olivia’s eyes were burning.

Hero turned back toward the table, rested his elbows, and gently pressed his fingertips together. “Alright, now that things are good and unfriendly at this table, let’s cut through the bullshit, shall we?”

Dan put wiped his hands and put his napkin back down on the table. “Actually, I think it’s time we call it a night.”

“I disagree,” said Hero, “and I don’t think you’re about to dismiss me, because it wouldn’t be very advantageous for you. If you kick me out right now, you create a forbidden love situation between me and your daughter, and I don’t think you want that, do you? It’ll be us against y’all, and you know it.”

Dan relaxed. “I’m listening.”

Hero smirked. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

“I do.”

Olivia gulped.

“Then let’s get one thing straight right,” said Hero. “I have never, nor will I ever, hurt your daughter. You feel me?”

Dan nodded. The rest of the table was completely ossified.

“Secondly,” said Hero. “I understand that you were the one who encouraged tonight’s gathering to take place. The six of us here together, yes?”

Dan nodded. “What’s your point?”

Hero slowly moved his head toward Margaret.

Margaret shifted in her seat. “What?”

Hero nodded toward Dan. “You talk him into this?”

“What?” Margaret repeated. “What are you talking about? Of course not.”

“Here’s what I think,” said Hero. “I think that Dan wanted me here with the honest intentions of meeting the man his daughter is involved with, naturally he had concerns. ‘Cause he got no further ambitions for her than to marry her off to some rich dude who can take on Cunnington.” He looked at Margaret. “And I think you got your folks involved with tonight’s dinner because you wanted to sabotage any chance of Olivia growing up to be a just a little wifey.” He pointed at Olivia’s parents. “Both of y’all got totally different plans for your little girl, but both of you agree that she can’t make her own choices for herself. You best work that shit out among you.”

Elizabeth scoffed. “Listen to him. He sounds just like one of those Sequoia Grove niggers.”

“Hey,” snapped Hero. “Don’t say nigger around Olivia. She doesn’t like it.”

Olivia smirked. Dan didn’t.

“How dare you,” hissed Dan. “How dare you come into my house and preach to me about how to raise my daughter. You’re right, Hero, I do know who you are. And I know about you and your little crew in Sequoia Grove. You are in no position to tell anyone how to live their lives. You’re a criminal.”

“I think crime is in the eye of the beholder—”

“I don’t give a shit what you think,” growled Olivia’s father. “All I care about is my daughter, and she deserves more than a life as a thug’s arm candy.”

“You’re right. She’s an adult and she deserves to live her own goddamn life, and the real crime here is making her believe that she can’t!” Hero scooted his chair back. “I came here tonight with the intention of putting on whatever face I needed to in order to impress y’all and make Olivia happy. But I guess I’m just 8th Block trash, and that’s just not something I’m capable of doing. I’m sorry.”

Hero stood up, leaned over, and kissed Olivia’s forehead. “I’m sorry, chag’ya. Do what you want to do. I’ll show myself out.” He made his way to the door, and with heavy feet, walked through it.

For a while, the five of them ate together in silence. Olivia took a gulp of her wine, and lazily sat it back down close to the edge of the table. Too close, it would seem, because once again, Margaret took her daughter’s glass, and in a swift, jerking, passionate motion, moved it inland. Her hard, maternal grasp maintained long after her angry repositioning.

Olivia stared at her mother, eyes wet and hard, piercing her mother’s flesh. Margaret didn’t return the glance, but she felt it. Everyone at the table felt it.

Olivia took the glass back, and though it was still full with wine, Olivia lifted it a good foot above her head, and dropped it. The pieces shattered with skull-splitting audibility, leaving a chaotic muddle of glass and wine all over the kitchen floor. Her family jumped, but Olivia was still.

Without a word, she ran out the door and into the night. Hero was still there, sitting in his car. He jumped a bit when he saw her approach. She tapped on the glass, and he rolled down the window.

“I’m sorry,” he said without thinking, “I just couldn’t, I wanted to—”

“Hero,” she said. “If I go back inside, run upstairs, grab a suitcase, fill it with everything I own, and then come back down… will you still be here when I get back?”

He took a few long, deep breaths. He looked at her, then away, and then back. Then away once again. He gripped the wheel. “Go. Before I change my mind.”

With a skip in her step and a smile on her face, she ran back into the house.

Margaret stood up. “Olivia, what are you—”

But Olivia paid her mother no heed before dashing up the stairs, pulling her suitcase out of her closet and jerking all her clothes from their hangers. When Margaret got there, she saw a closet full of nothing but hangers, swinging from inertia.

“What are you doing?” she cried, watching Olivia fold her dresses. “Get your ass downstairs and clean the mess you made!”

“You mean the mess you made?”

Margaret launched toward Olivia, pinched both cheeks tightly against her teeth, and brought her red face inches from hers, spit flying, veins popping.

“You will ruin your life, do you understand me!?” She jerked Olivia’s head with every hard hiss. “Don’t be such a fucking moron. I did not raise you to be some gangster’s white trophy wife!”

Olivia laughed, tears dribbling down her face. “Are you kidding?” A tear rolled across her mother’s hand. “That’s exactly what you raised me to be!”

Margaret pulled her hand back and slapped her daughter across the face. “You little fucking bitch!” She watched her daughter collapse onto the ground. “You can take this new shitty attitude of yours and shove it up your ass! If you think you’re coming back, you’ve got another thing coming!”

Olivia curled up into a ball, spitting out furious weeps with every word. “Why would I come back? Down there, I mean something to those people. Down there, the things I say matter. A girl was being abused and I saved her. In this house, I’m meaningless.” She shook her head. “I feel useless here, Mom.”

“Well excuse me if everything we did for you wasn’t enough,” spat Margaret.

Dan entered the scene, and Margaret turned to her husband.

“She’s leaving with that—that fucking racketeer!” Margaret cried. “Maybe you can talk some sense into her, I give up.”

Dan looked at his daughter, who had now straightened herself up, and though still weeping, continued to pack. “…I can’t.”

Margaret’s face fell, and that warping anger had twisted into unprecedented sadness. “Yes you can!” The pitch of her voice was pitched tightly by the tension of her weeping. “You have to stop her!”

“She’s an adult,” said Dan, low and stern.

Margaret punched her husband in the chest. “You’re fucking retarded too. This is your fault.”

As she stormed off, Dan muttered under his breath, “…maybe it is.”

Olivia didn’t offer her father the slightest glance of regret before she pushed past him and made her way down the stairs. She made heavy, lazy stomps, one foot in front of the other, letting her suitcase and shoulder bag bounce behind her. She could hear mutters from the kitchen.

“Just let her go,” said Elizabeth. “She’ll come back, once she realizes this was a mistake, it’ll be fine.”

“She better not come back…”

Olivia blocked out the rest as Dan chased her to the door.

“Olivia, stop for a second,” he said. He put his hand on the door. “I want you to think about what you’re doing. This family will never recover from this. I know you’re young, and I know you’re angry, but even if you try to come home after this, this is still a decision that will affect the rest of your life. Do you understand that?”

She didn’t move his hand, she just patiently waited. She didn’t look at him.

“Olivia,” said her father, letting emotion strangle his words for the first time that night. “If you do this, I will feel like a failure as a parent.”

Olivia’s bottom lip began to twitch. “I’m running away with an Asian mob boss. You are a failure as a parent.” She twisted her mouth up, letting the whimpers settle in, and she looked at her father. His eyes were almost as wet at hers, though she could barely peek over her own tears enough to see it. “I would have been really happy as a fighter pilot, Daddy.”

And that was the closest thing to a goodbye that Dan Cunnington got before he lost his little girl.

Hero was standing by his car with the trunk open, ready to take Olivia’s things. She tossed in her bags as Margaret, still sweaty and reddened by anger and defeat, pushed her husband out of the way to offer one last cry of protest.

“Hero, don’t you dare take that girl from this house, do you hear me?”

Hero said nothing.

“If you really loved her you would stop her from doing this!” Margaret cried.

Dan reached for his wife’s shoulder, but she just jerked his arm away from her.

“Do you really want her to give up what she has here to spend her life in a goddamn ghetto?” Margaret pleaded, tears trailing her face. “It’ll kill her! You’ll kill her!” She went forward, but Dan held her back. She tried to fight him off as she looked at the broken girl in the passenger’s seat. “Do you hear me, you stupid, stubborn little bitch!? He’ll kill you!”

Hero shook his head. “Mrs. Cunnington, please don’t call my girlfriend a bitch.”

“You fucking—”

Dan pulled his wife inside. It was over. The Cunningtons lost and Hero won, so Dan held his wife with one arm and closed the door with the other before he could watch his daughter disappear into the black oblivion of night with Hero Vem. The smell of spilled wine lingered in the air as Grannie and Grandpa swept up a thousand shards of broken glass.

Tags: Ace, Dan, Hero, Margaret, Olivia, Olivia's Point of View, Seneka, Seneka's Point of View, Stone, Wildcard

This entry was posted on Sunday, November 22nd, 2009 at 12:43 pm and is filed under The Story. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.