Shocking Pink

“It was good. She’s a nice woman. Did you like her?”

Raven didn’t turn. She feared he would read in her eyes what she really thought—that he was a son of a bitch and she wished he was dead. “Yes, Daddy,” she said. “She did seem very nice.”

For a moment he was silent. She sensed his gaze on her back, sensed him assessing her every movement, her every word and its inflection. She had played this game with him so long it had become second nature, yet still she lived in fear that he might someday see through her.

And then she might end up as her mother had, trying to run away in the dead of night.

He cleared his throat. “I know what you’re thinking, Raven,” he said softly. “You can’t hide your thoughts from me.”

Her fingers froze on the tea bags, and she forced a stiff laugh. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. Look at me, please.”

Schooling her features to what she hoped portrayed a look of innocence, she did as he asked, turning slowly to face him.

“I know what you’re worried about,” he said. “You’re worried I’ll get involved with Marion and things will change.”

“No, I’m not.” She shook her head. “Really, Dad.”

He frowned. “You know I like you to call me Daddy.”

“I’m sorry.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Thank you for reminding me.”

He stood and crossed to her. He caught her hands, and gooseflesh raced up her arms. She walked a very fine line with him, she knew. If he ever discovered her disloyalty, if he ever even suspected it, he would take care of her. The way he had taken care of her mother.

She swallowed her fear. That wasn’t going to happen. She wouldn’t allow it to happen.

She was smarter than he was.

He squeezed her fingers and looked her straight in the eyes, demanding that she do the same. “You’re worried it will be the way it was with your mother. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” she lied. “Maybe I’m a little worried about that.”

He smiled tenderly, and she wanted to retch. “It won’t be that way, sweetheart. I promise you. Marion’s not the way your mother was. She’s loyal. And honest.” His eyes filled with tears. “I loved your mother more than anything, Raven. It broke my heart when she left us. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered, understanding that he had loved her mother that much. Love, it seemed, took many forms. “I know that.”

He tightened his hands over hers and she had to fight not to flinch from the pressure. “Family is everything,” he said fiercely. “Loyalty counts above all.” He moved his gaze over her face. “No one will come between us. I won’t allow it. Do you understand?”

“Of course.” She forced an adoring smile. “Family is everything.”

He smiled and brought his hands to her hair, hanging loosely down the sides of her face. He tucked it behind her ears. “Why do you wear your hair this way? You know I like it pulled back.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I guess I forgot. Tomorrow, I’ll wear those new barrettes you bought me.”

“That’s my girl.” He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then dropped his hands. “Run along to bed. It’s late.”

Just then the kettle screamed. Raven jumped, nearly leaping out of her skin. “I’ll get it,” she said, swinging toward the stove. She reached for the kettle. “You just sit—”

He caught her hand. “You’re nervous as a cat tonight.”

“Just tired.”

“I’ll take care of the tea. You go on to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“All right.” She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Good night, Daddy.”

As she turned and walked away, Raven smiled to herself. One morning, he wouldn’t see her. One morning, when the time was right, he would never be allowed to see her again.

9

Julie awakened with a start, a silent scream on her lips. Terrified, she moved her gaze over her dark bedroom, looking for the beast in every shadow, the monster who had come to take what was left of her soul.

After a moment, the outlines of her furniture began to take shape; the silhouette of the tree in her window, the pile of discarded clothes in the corner. Her breathing slowed, her heart with it.

Only a bad dream. Nothing to be really frightened of.

But she was frightened. Julie pressed her lips together, realizing they were trembling. Realizing, too, how close to tears she was. The nightmare had been so real and vivid. So awful.

Her reaction had been worse.

She had been turned on. Sexually aroused, even in her sleep.

Julie rolled onto her side, curling into a ball of misery and self-disgust. The dream had been a reenactment of the scene she, Andie and Raven had witnessed that night. Only she had been the woman, blindfolded and performing for the man. She had been the one who stood before him naked and completely vulnerable, the one who had knelt before him and taken his penis into her mouth.

She should have been ashamed, terrified or repulsed. She should have been desperate to escape.

She had loved it, instead. She had reveled in it.

What was wrong with her?

Just remembering, her body began to throb again. Julie squeezed her thighs together, wanting to stop the sensations but knowing she couldn’t. Knowing that once again, she had lost control and her body wasn’t her own.

Julie turned her face to the pillow and moaned, the tingling sensation building between her legs. She rocked slightly, and the folds of flesh at the apex of her thighs rubbed together, a trick she had learned years ago. She had used it in church, at the dinner table, during Scriptures.

Even as she told herself to stop, she rocked harder, squeezed tighter. The tingling ignited, becoming fire. Her mind emptied of everything but the heat, the need for that moment of complete oblivion and electric nothingness.

The moment where Julie Cooper, her life, her body itself, ceased to exist.

It arrived. She brought her fist to her mouth to hold back the sound that rushed to escape. One of pleasure and pain. The pleasure of the moment. The painful truth that in the experience, it was already over.

Back to life. Her life.

Julie Cooper lived.

Pleasure and pain. As the throbbing eased, she thought of Andie and Raven. Julie’s eyes welled with tears. What would they think if they knew the truth about her? If they knew what she did, how she touched herself? Would they still want to be her best friends?

They wouldn’t; she knew they wouldn’t.

Earlier that night, as she had peered in that window with her friends, she had been afraid, so afraid, that Andie and Raven would see how excited she was, that they would know what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

She had been so ashamed, she had wanted to die.

Her thoughts returned to the dream. In it, she had been that woman; she had crossed to the man and had eagerly taken his penis into her mouth.

Remembering, her stomach rose to her throat. Unlike the real scene she had viewed, it hadn’t ended there. Suddenly, her blindfold had been stripped away. She’d lifted her eyes.

And seen the hideous, red face of her lover.

She’d had the devil inside her mouth, his penis, his sperm bubbling up, gagging her.

She had clawed at him then, trying to free herself. He had tipped back his massive horned head and laughed. She couldn’t escape him. They were joined forever.

You have the devil inside you, girl. You always have.

Julie drew her knees tighter to her chest, her father’s voice ringing in her head, the devil’s laughter with it. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could blot them out. Wishing she could crawl out of herself, become someone else, someone new and clean and good.

Clean and good. The way she hadn’t felt in a long time, not since the terrible Easter morning so many years ago. She drew in a shuddering breath, the memory unfolding in her head. She had been seven years old, standing in front of her bedroom mirror, gazing admiringly at herself. In her new Easter dress, bonnet and white patent-leather shoes, shoes so shiny and bright she could see herself in them, she had felt like a princess. A beautiful princess.

She had giggled and whirled around, her long blond curls swinging with the movement. From downstairs, Julie had heard her two brothers playing, laughing and tussling with each other, from the bathroom down the hall her mother humming “Amazing Grace.” The new baby had been asleep in the nursery; her father had been running through his sermon one last time. This was her father’s first big sermon for his new congregation here in Thistledown, and Easter Sunday was the most important day on the religious calendar. His new congregation expected something especially rousing today. Julie had heard him tell her mother that he didn’t want anything to go wrong. Not this time.

Julie ran her hands over the dress’s tissue-like fabric, liking the way it rustled against her legs. Something had gone wrong at their last church, the one in Mobile. Julie didn’t know what, she only knew that some men from the congregation had come to see her dad one night, and after they left she had heard her mom crying.

Not long after, they had moved here, to Thistledown and Temple Baptist Church.

Julie pirouetted again, delighted, wishing she could dress like this every day. When she grew up she would, she decided, tilting her head this way and that and smiling at herself in the mirror. She fluffed her hair and pursed her lips, imitating the way she had seen an actress do it on a shampoo commercial. Would the other girls think she was pretty? she wondered. Would they like her?

Maybe today, she thought hopefully, beaming into the mirror, at the egg hunt and picnic after the last service, she would make a friend.

“What are you doing?”

At the sound of her father’s angry voice, Julie froze. She dropped her hands and turned slowly to face him, her heart thundering. “Nothing, Daddy,” she whispered.

He took a step toward her, his expression thunderous. “I’ll ask you once more, daughter. What were you doing?”

She swallowed hard, past the sudden knot of tears and fear that choked her. She hated when her father got this way; it scared her. She never knew what answer he was looking for, never knew what she had done to anger him.

“Just … getting ready for … church, Daddy.”

“Linda!” he bellowed, vibrant red starting at the place where his clerical collar met his neck and moving upward.

Julie took an involuntary step backward. “Daddy, really, I wasn’t doing anythi—”

“Vanity is the work of the devil,” he said. “It tempts us, teasing and cajoling until we love ourselves more than God.”

She shook her head. “No, Daddy, I wasn’t—”

He was across the room so fast she didn’t have time to react. He grabbed her bonnet and snatched it from her head, taking some of her hair with it. She cried out in pain.

“Don’t lie to me! I saw the devil in your eyes. I saw the admiration, the self-love for your reflection.”

“No, Daddy! Please—”

He grabbed the hem of her dress and yanked it up over her head. She heard the delicate fabric rip, an awful wrenching sound. A sound she felt as if a physical blow. Sobbing, she tried to cover herself, naked save for her underwear and tights. “No … please … I didn’t mean to be bad,” she begged. “Give me another chance. Please, I—”

He turned her toward the mirror, forcing her arms to her sides so she would face her nakedness. “See yourself, sinner.” He shook her so hard her teeth rattled. “What’s to admire now, I ask you? Without the Lord, what are you but dirty flesh and foul spirit?”

As if from a great distance, Julie had heard her mother’s cry of distress, her brother’s muffled giggles. Her father had released her, and she’d crumpled to the floor. Only then had she seen her mother standing in the doorway staring at her with a look of pure horror, her brothers behind her, both of them making ugly faces at her.

A sound of despair had flown into her throat like vomit, and she’d held it back. Just as she’d held back her tears, her self-pity. Such expression was just another form of vanity, her father said. Another form of self-love over God-love.

Her father had ordered her mother to find her something less provocative to wear, something that wouldn’t tempt her to stray from the path of righteousness.

She had gone to church that day in a plain brown jumper and scuffed loafers; she had gone marked by sin, so vain and wretched she wasn’t even allowed to wear pretty dresses and bonnets like the other girls.

Instead of welcoming smiles, she had been greeted with curious stares from the other children. Their gazes had slipped over her, and they had wondered, she knew, why, on the highest holy day of the year, the reverend’s daughter was dressed the way she was.

They hadn’t had long to wonder. Her father had told them.

He had been at the pulpit, delivering a rousing sermon. As he spoke, his fiery gaze kept coming back to her.

“You’re sinners!” Her father’s voice had boomed through the church. Around Julie, people shifted uncomfortably. “He died for you. For your sins. He died so you may live.”

He paused a moment, then brought his fist crashing down on the pulpit. “Sinners!” he shouted, swinging his gaze to Julie’s, seeming to pin her to the pew.

He lifted a hand and pointed. At her. Directly at her. “Sinner,” he said softly. Then louder, “Sinner!”

Julie had gone hot, then icy, clammy cold. Tears had flooded her eyes and she’d sunk down in the pew. She’d heard the hushed murmur move through the congregation, felt those around her ease away, as if afraid of contamination.

If the others hadn’t known about her before, she remembered realizing, they had then. And she had known, too.

Dirty flesh and foul spirit. Marked by sin.

Julie made a strangled sound of despair, the past retreating, the hopeless present reasserting itself. If only Andie or Raven was with her now. They would talk to her, make her smile and laugh, make her forget. Who and what she was. They would tell her she was okay.

And for a little while, she would even believe it.

For a little while. She pressed her face to the pillow, longing so hard for her friends she ached, even though she knew in her heart that no one could help her, not even God. She knew it was true, because she had prayed and prayed, but still the devil stalked her.

And one day, she feared, he would catch her. And she would be lost forever.

10

Andie sat at the breakfast table, going over what she had decided in the darkest hours of the night, rehearsing what she would say to her mother. She had to tell her what she and her friends had seen the night before. She had to, no matter what she had promised them.

Andie folded her hands in her lap, trying to appear calm even though her heart thundered nearly out of control. She had hardly slept. She had tossed and turned, unable to expunge the image of the blindfolded woman from her head. Or of the man, sitting like a king, the lord of the woman before him.

Daniel then Pete slammed through the kitchen door, one chasing the other with a squirt gun, both of them squealing with laughter.

Andie jumped, nearly startled out of her skin. “Hey!” she called after them, irritated. “You’re not supposed to shoot that thing in the house. And be quiet. Mom’s still sleeping.”

“No, she’s not.” Her mother shuffled into the kitchen, a hand to her head. “Up and at ’em.” She crossed to the coffeepot, took a mug from the cabinet above and filled it with some of yesterday’s cold brew, then set it in the microwave to warm it.

Andie swallowed against the lump that formed in her throat. When her dad had lived here, there had always been fresh coffee. She remembered walking into the kitchen in the morning and its aroma filling her head, welcoming and somehow reassuring.

The microwave dinged and her mom brought the now-steaming and bitter-smelling cup of coffee to the table. Sighing, she sat down.

Andie glanced at her from the corner of her eyes, nervous. She cleared her throat. “Mom? Can I talk to you? It’s kind of important.”

Her mother didn’t look up. “Sure, honey.”

Andie opened her mouth then shut it. Was she doing the right thing? She had made a promise to her friends. She had promised not to go to her mother. She had agreed they would investigate more before any of them blew the whistle on the mystery couple and their activities.

They had agreed.

She chewed on the tip of her thumb, indecisive. But that had been last night. None of them had been thinking clearly. Now she was. And what was going on in that house was wrong.

Andie peeked at her mother again. She seemed to have forgotten her daughter was even there. She stared off into space, her expression so sad it broke Andie’s heart.

“Mom?” she said softly. When her mother didn’t acknowledge her in any way, she tried again, this time louder.

Her mother started. “I’m sorry, honey. What is it?”

“Are you all right?”

Marge Bennett smiled, though to Andie it looked forced. “Fine. It’s just … just that I’m tired. I’m not sleeping much, and …”

Her voice trailed off, and her eyes filled with tears. She drew in a choked breath. “It’s just hard, you know? I thought we, your father and I … I thought forever meant forever. I thought we were … that we were happy. I was. Completely.”

Her mother fell silent for a moment, her gaze turned to the window and the bright day beyond. “I still love him.”

Andie stared at her mother, hurting so bad each breath tore at her chest. Even so, anger at her father coiled inside her, anger and resentment.

How could he have done this to them? How could he have done it to her mom?

As if sensing her daughter’s despair, Marge turned back to her. She covered her hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t apologize, Mom. It’s his fault. He’s the one who—”

“No,” her mother said, cutting her off, “I shouldn’t have said anything to you. Not now or the night he … told us he was leaving. I handled that all wrong. And everything since, too.” She sighed. “I was so hurt, I wanted to hurt him back, just a little. I used you kids, his love for you, to do it.”

“Mom, don’t—”

“No, honey, what I did was wrong and not very mature. Your father loves you and your brothers very much.”

“Then why did he leave us?”

For a moment, she said nothing, then lifted her shoulders in a defeated looking shrug. “I guess he’s not perfect.”

“I’ll never forgive him, Mom.”

“Yes, you will.” She touched her cheek. “You will.”

When Andie opened her mouth to protest, her mother shook her head again. “I know how tough this has been for you, too. And your brothers.” She bent and rested her forehead against Andie’s for a moment. “Thank you, sweetheart. For all the help you’ve been these past weeks. And for being such a good girl for me.”

She squeezed Andie’s fingers, then released them. “Now, you needed to talk to me about something. What is it?”

Andie shrank back in her chair. How could she tell her mother that her “good girl” had been breaking into empty houses and peeking in windows and watching kinky sex? She imagined her mother’s face, her surprise and disappointment, her sigh of defeat. That’s all her mom needed, more to worry about, more disappointment.

No, she couldn’t do that to her. She wouldn’t.

Andie forced a smile. “I just wanted to tell you about the party Sarah Conners is having and ask your opinion about what I should wear. But it can wait.”

“Are you sure? We could go to your closet and—”

“I’m sure.” Andie stood, bent and kissed her cheek. “This is something I have to take care of myself.”

11

Mr. and Mrs. X, as Andie and her friends had begun to call the mystery couple, didn’t show again. After a week, the girls concluded that the couple met only late at night, so they gave up all their day watches and returned to their normal summer routine.

As they went to the mall and the movies or to parties at friends’ houses, Andie could almost believe that it was a normal summer. That everything was as it had always been between her and her best friends.

But nothing was, or had been, normal since the night they had peered at Mr. and Mrs. X through the window. And everything certainly was not as it had always been between the three friends.

Andie glanced from Raven to Julie, then returned her gaze to the tree house floor. The three of them sat at their post, lost in their own thoughts, not speaking. Raven was distracted about anything but their mission. On that she seemed almost frighteningly intent. Julie, on the other hand, was giddy and silly, even more so than usual. In the past days she’d had periods when she couldn’t stop laughing, and there were many times she didn’t seem able to look her friends in the eyes.

Between their two moods, Raven and Julie had been at each other’s throats even more than usual.

Andie herself was nervous and on edge, and spent a good bit of her time with Julie and Raven thinking about Mrs. X and praying that the couple never came back. She had become almost obsessed with them, thinking about them night and day, worrying.

And she spent each day dreading the night. Dreading sneaking out of the house and going to the tree house to wait and watch. She didn’t want to see the couple again. She wanted them to disappear from her life, from all their lives.

If they didn’t, something bad was going to happen.

Andie shivered and rubbed her arms, chilled though the night was warm. She glanced at her friends: Julie who was staring dreamily into space, Raven who had the binoculars trained on the house next door, waiting quietly, like a cat for its prey.

Andie shifted, her butt sore from sitting so long on the hard platform. “Are you guys okay?”

Raven lowered the binoculars. “I’m fine. Why?”

“You’re quiet tonight, that’s all.”

Julie giggled, and Raven scowled at her. Julie immediately shut up.

“Maybe we should go?” Andie offered.

“Go?” Raven repeated. “What do you mean? We haven’t been here that long.”

“Long enough,” Andie said. “They’re not coming.”

“How do you know?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Well, I think they are.”

“Fine.” Andie frowned at her friend, annoyed. “We’ll wait a little longer.”

“Andie,” Julie whispered, leaning toward her. “I met the coolest guy at the pool today, when I took my brothers swimming.” She lowered her voice a bit more, then giggled again. “I had that icky grandma suit on, the one my dad makes me wear, so I didn’t even take off my cover-up. We sat and talked the whole time my brothers swam.”

Andie glanced at Raven, then back at Julie. “What was his name?”

“Bryce. He was so cute.”

“You didn’t make out with him, did you?” Raven asked, not moving her gaze from the house.

Julie bristled. “Right there, in front of my brothers and everybody else? No, I didn’t make out with him.”

“Never can tell with you.”

Julie’s head snapped up, her expression hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Raven lowered the binoculars and looked at her. “Sometimes I wonder. I mean, sometimes it seems like all you care about are boys and making out.”

“Leave her alone, Raven,” Andie said, furious. “It beats what you care about.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This,” she answered. “Ever since that first night, this is all you can think about. You’re obsessed.”

“I am not! I only want to figure out what’s going on. Who these people are and what they’re doing in this house. You just have a weak stomach.”