Part 15 (1/2)

Bill, a pathetic victim of life?

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

Bill forced himself to sit right there, waiting for Nik to respond. He wasn't normally like this. Normally he didn't mind confrontation and was confident of his ability to come out on top. But not with Nik. She mattered too much, and this wasn't a war of words. This was life.

She frowned in what seemed like puzzlement and finally said, ”I'm sure you are like your mother in some ways. I don't see much similarity, though, other than that you probably get your coloring from her. What about her is so upsetting?”

Oh, geez. She was going to be polite about it! ”You saw her, Nik! You know what she is -” He hated to say the words, but he just knew she was going to make him do it. ”She's white trash, plain and simple, and so was Pop. I'm their kid, and that makes me white trash, too.”

She wrinkled up her forehead and nose and stared at him, but not like he was an animal at the zoo, the way the nice girls at home always had. ”That's ridiculous. Labeling never does any good. You're a smart guy - you know that. You're who and what you make of yourself, just like everybody else. And maybe your mom's not as sophisticated as the Worthingtons, but everybody is different and has their own good points.”

How the heck did she think she could get away with lecturing him about this c.r.a.p? ”Tell me, little miss professor's daughter, exactly what is so great about Ma? She's a lush, she talks like a caricature of a redneck hillbilly, and she'd have let Pop beat her to death rather than lift a hand in self- defense.” They'd see what the little white bread princess thought about that!

She didn't react, d.a.m.n it. She just came right back at him with, ”She loves you, Bill. And she's proud of you. And if your father was as much of a jerk as it sounds like, then she must have been a pretty good mother. Because you didn't get to be the decent caring person that you are without someone helping you along the way. Maybe she didn't always make the right decisions - and maybe she still doesn't - but she's your mother and she deserves your love and respect.”

”I know that! I take care of her - I've done it since I was fifteen. I got her a nice apartment and a new car when I started to make money, and I send her a check every month - usually two.” She couldn't say that wasn't enough.

”You see her what - maybe once or twice a year? And when she comes to town, I'll bet you're careful not to let her meet anyone you know.”

”She sees Rachel.”

She acted like that wasn't important. ”Well, of course - she's her grandmother.” She paused and thought for a few seconds. ”But that's not the real point here. The point is that you seem to think that because you come from a poor background, it makes you somehow inferior, and that's simply not true. If anything, it makes what you've done with your life even more impressive.” She undoubtedly intended that in a different way than he took it. ”Oh, yeah, I've done great things. I've taken advantage of several hundred women, I've skated on my brother's reputation most of my career, and then I blackmailed my way into a promotion. All I need to do now is ruin your life, and I'll have a perfect record.”

This whole talking deal was overrated. Nik couldn't possibly accept the real him, and nothing she said could convince him otherwise.

Nik wasn't going to let Bill make her lose her temper. She could tell that was what he was after.

Something inside made him need confrontation - or was it distance? In all they'd shared so far, his background had been conspicuously missing, and now she might understand why.

She moved over to the sofa, within reach of him but not touching. ”I have a question for you, Bill. Are you looking for a reason to stop seeing me?” She waited until his lips were forming a denial before adding, ”Because you don't need an excuse.”

He shook his head wildly. ”No, that's not it! It's -”

She kept her voice calm, hoping he was rational enough to listen. ”In that case, let's drop the dramatics and talk about what's really happening.”

”What do you mean?” She had his attention, but she needed to make her point quickly.

Now, what did she want to say? ”You reacting so strongly to me meeting your mother seems to indicate that you think I'll feel differently about you, now that I've met her. But I don't, other than to be pleased that you have a mother who cares about you. And like I said before, coming from a poor background isn't anything to feel ashamed about. Lots of people do, and anyone who'd judge you based on that isn't worth worrying about.”

Words burst out of him. ”It's not just that we were poor. That sucked, but a lot of people in that town were even poorer than us. It's -” His face was tight and his eyes huge and horrified. Suddenly, he grabbed her hand and said, ”Come on. I'll show you.”

He pulled her down the hall to the second bathroom, the one he used when he stayed over. He flicked on the lights, peeled down his slacks and briefs, and bent over. ”See? See the scars?”

Her stomach tried to escape from her body, but she forced herself to look. The scars were there, plenty of them, small pale marks covering his b.u.t.tocks and upper thighs. She hadn't noticed them before this, and that amazed her. When she steeled herself to touch a couple of them lightly, she discovered that they were hard and didn't feel at all like normal skin. ”I see,” she whispered, then tried to pull his pants back up.

He resisted for a couple of seconds, then stood and finished the job himself. ”I don't think you really do,”

he said, facing her. ”Pop got drunk at least once a week, and when he got home, he'd come after me first. And after he got warmed up on me, he'd move on to Ma. She's got scars all over her body, and some broken bones that didn't heal right because she wouldn't go to the doctor.”

The horror was too much to let in all at once, so she focused on a probably-irrelevant point. ”What about George? Didn't he get it, too?”

Bill made an unpleasant noise in the back of his throat. ”Once in a while, if George did something that p.i.s.sed off Pop. But not as a rule.” His eyes narrowed and his face tightened even more. ”That's why itwent on so long. I was too little to stop it, but George was bigger. I'd beg him to help me make Pop stop, and he'd say, 'If you don't want to get beaten, stop bugging Pop.' How could I? What I did wrong was to be born!”

She winced and threw her arms around him. His body tensed, but gradually relaxed, and eventually he wrapped his arms around her, too.

Finally, he continued, ”The first year George was away at school, Pop was worse than before. He was having a hard time keeping a job, and he spent just about all he made on booze. Anyway, this one night, he was in a really foul mood, and I could tell that he was hurting Ma worse than usual. So I grabbed the sharpest knife we had in the kitchen, snuck up behind him, and held it to his throat. I made him stop, and I gave him five minutes to get out of the apartment. I said I'd kill him if he ever came back.”

”That was really brave.” She had to ask, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know. ”Did he ever come back?”

He blew out a breath and stepped out of her embrace. ”Not while I was there, but other times. I could always tell when he'd been there. Ma'd be all kind of giggly, and in a really good mood for a day or two.”

He shrugged and walked into the bedroom, where he stood staring out the window. ”And when I went away to school, I didn't go home anymore and I'm sure she let him move back in.”

”Was he still the same way?” Maybe Bill's threat had led to him reforming.

He almost laughed. ”He never changed. He still beat her up whenever he felt like it. He'd be doing it today if he hadn't choked on his own puke my junior year at school.”

Nik didn't know what to say. He hadn't told her all this to gain her sympathy. But on the other hand, he wasn't trying to push her away anymore, so she'd made some progress. They'd be okay, if only she could figure out where to go from here.

He stared out the window with an intensity that had to mask emotional chaos. ”My whole life, I swore I'd never be anything like Pop. I'd never hurt someone for any reason, much less just because I could. But now I know that's all a lie. I don't use my fists or a belt like Pop -” His face spasmed and he gripped the windowsill so tight his knuckles turned white. ”But neither did George. We're both so G.o.dd.a.m.ned smart we can destroy people without getting blood on our hands.”

She was completely lost now. He couldn't be right, yet he obviously believed every word he said. It suddenly occurred to her that they were so far into uncharted territory for their relations.h.i.+p that she couldn't remember what used to be reality.

She wasn't going to lose everything now, simply because of emotional overload. She slipped her hand into his. ”We'll talk about that later. First, let's lie down on the bed and relax.”

He growled and tried to pull away. ”I don't want -”

”Shh.” She brushed her fingertips across his lips, and a small electric shock pa.s.sed between them.

He turned to her, and the wildness in his eyes was suddenly s.e.xual. He advanced on her with such purpose that she took a step back. He pushed her onto the bed and followed, straddling her body. And then he kissed her with all his desperate anguish.

She thought she might drown.

** Bill was starving for her touch, for her taste, for her soul. He'd been starving forever, it seemed, and only Nik could fill his emptiness. He pressed her down onto the bed, his fingers tangling in her hair, their bodies still much too far apart. Still two separate beings.

He pulled away from her mouth and raised himself on his knees, needing to dispense with their clothes before he incinerated into a pile of ash.

She stopped him with her palm pressed against his chest. ”This isn't what I meant, Bill.”

”It's what I need.” Couldn't she see that? Couldn't she feel it?