Strange in Skin (21 page)

He closed his eyes for a moment, the anger building back up as he slammed his palms down on the
table and gripped the edge of it with all his might. “That’s enough!” he shrieked. “I can get you out of
here without charges, but you will never
ever
see Emry Logan again! Do you understand?”

My heart thumped in outrage and also throbbed in pain at his words. This was just his scheme to get
me to break down, to become weak enough so that I would believe what he said and not pursue my
heart which now belonged to the beautiful Emry Logan. “I won’t give up,” I told him honestly. “You
can’t stop me.”

“You just watch me,” my father warned. “What’s your plan? Are you going to live happily ever
after with him in the state penitentiary? He’s never getting out.”

I closed my eyes as I felt a hot flush and the tears instantly returned. I didn’t care now that they
were gushing down my cheeks. I was tired of his games. “We belong together, father, and no matter
how hard you try, you won’t be able to keep us apart.”

Another officer stepped into the room and whispered something into my father’s ear. He nodded
and then the officer left again.

 

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” my father asked, his tone borderline between smugness
and assurance that he was getting his way.

 

“Is there anything else you want to tell
me
?” I asked him right back, narrowing my eyes as I
watched him become angry again.

 

“Very well,” he snapped. “I’ll go see what I can do about getting you out of here.”

I felt very sad and alone after he had gone. I sat slumped over in the chair, feeling the sorrow
pulsing through me, but not having any more tears left to cry. I was worried that my father was now
interrogating Emry, asking him all sorts of things. I thought about Buck hitting him and how my father
probably wouldn’t stop that. It made me wince, and I tried to shake the thought from my head.

I felt defeated, for now. This felt as if it had been the longest day of my life composed of the most
astonishing and also devastating memories I had ever experienced. My plan had worked. I had got to
see Emry. I had gone to his world and seen firsthand what he was talking about. My feet had walked
over a foreign land that was filled with such breathtaking magnificence that I longed for another taste
of Evadere. But even more wonderful than all of that was the kiss that kept running through my mind
and the feel of Emry’s soft lips moving simultaneously with my own, full of passion and love. It felt
as if all of my senses were still connected to that very moment, and then as quickly as it had
happened, it had gotten ripped away by Buck.

Defeated, definitely for now, but I was proud that I had stood up to Buck and my father as much as I
did, and I had let nothing slip. I was sure that I had enough strength to overcome the both of them and
whatever was behind their hatred for the man I had come to love. He was my reason for living now. I
would get him back and be with him if I died trying.

My head jerked up as I heard the door opening again.
“Anna James?”
The police officer that had first accompanied my father appeared.
“You’re free to go now.”

I didn’t know how free I was exactly, but I forced myself to stand as I unsteadily walked out of the
room in my heels, the blonde wig in my hand. I thought about plopping it back on my head but then
decided against it. I walked down a long corridor alone, my footsteps pounding nosily along the
cement as I did so until I reached the lobby where I knew desks of the policemen that had stared at me
going in would surely be staring at me in a different way going out, the wig no longer on my head.

Once in the lobby, I made sure to keep my head down, not daring to make eye contact with anyone.
The room was completely silent. And then I felt a little relieved as the gush of cold wind greeted me
at the main door and I was outside, away from all of the commotion. But the relief quickly vanished as
I reached my car and got in. A single tear escaped and ran down my cheek as I turned the key in the
ignition and pressed my foot on the accelerator. I had to leave, but Emry had to stay.

Chapter 10

I drove way over the speed limit. I didn’t care. I was furious that I had gotten caught. I could have
gone back tomorrow as Amelia Roberts and been in his arms again. The more I thought about it, the
crazier I drove. The houses and buildings zipped by, and before I knew it, I was on the other side of
Seneca heading out of town.

I took a deep breath and slowed the car down, pulling off on the shoulder. I wasn’t going home right
now. I couldn’t. There was no way I was walking in like this, and who knew what my father had told
all of them by now. I didn’t care if I ever walked back into that house. I looked at myself in the
rearview mirror and gasped. Wow. I
did
look awful, straight out of a zombie movie. My skin was
covered in black makeup smudges and streaks from the tears that had washed portions of the
foundation away. Then there was my hair. Had everyone really seen me like that?
Oh well
, I thought,
immediately casting the care away. It was their fault I looked like this anyway.

I did a U-turn and headed into the depths of Seneca again, toward the antique store to get cleaned up
and out of these clothes. I thought momentarily about what I was going to do with this dress. It was
beyond repair at this point. I probably would just end up hanging it in Carlin’s closet in this condition.
She would be furious when she found out. It amused me to think of what her facial expression would
be like when she first discovered it there.

I drove a little slower now, a little safer, my eyes scanning over the properties as I passed them.
Neon lights came into view as I recognized and read the letters on a sign: JD’S. All the bulbs were
out on the letter D though. It was a well known yet deadbeat bar at the edge of town that seemed to
have its own sort of crowd. I had only been in there once. It had been on my twenty-first birthday, and
I could remember Mandi Liswich’s car pulling in here as we met a few more of our friends from high
school. I had remembered feeling so uncomfortable sitting at the bar, so out of my element, as Mandi
and the other girls chatted away as if they had done this a million times. They probably had now that I
thought about it. I only had one drink that night, a cranberry and vodka, as I sipped on it nervously
wondering what was happening to my body while I did so. Would I be drunk after just one drink? I
was so worried about how my body was going to react and worried that someone would tell my
parents that I had been there. What a joke that had been. None of the people that had come in there that
night were recognizable to me. I doubted many of them went to church, let alone my father’s. I had felt
a little strange after just that one drink, so I didn’t dare have anymore. Mandi took me home
afterwards, smiling as if she didn’t care that I was being a party pooper. Then she took off back down
the road again after dropping me at the house.
She probably had gone back to the bar,
I thought to
myself now. A bar might just be enough of a loud, distracting environment to get my mind off the day’s
events if only for a few hours. I needed to do
something
. I had nowhere else to go. My foot pressed
harder on the accelerator, and the car took off toward the direction of the store.

Pulling back into JD’s parking lot, I felt that same familiar kind of anxiety I had felt on my twentyfirst birthday. At least then I had Mandi, but now I would be going in alone. I thought about turning
around and going home, but that disturbance outweighed the one of going in here by myself.

I took a peek in the rearview mirror again. My face was now clean and didn’t have a trace of
makeup on. I had tried to brush my hair out as best I could, and I was now wearing a pair of jeans and
a faded red sweatshirt.
Here goes nothing
, I thought, opening up the car door.

The smell inside JD’s bar was of cigarettes, hot wings, and spilled beer. It wasn’t a huge crowd
being it was a weekday, and I avoided the looks of the few people that were there and plopped down
on a red-cushioned stool. I set my purse down on the counter and watched as a partially balding
bartender with sunken in cheeks and creases permanently formed into his forehead approached me.
He wiped his hands with a white cloth and tossed it on the counter.

“What can I get you?”

I looked at the shiny-topped counter and tried to think of something to say. What should I order?
What drink did I even know of to order? A beer? Did I even like beer? I had never tasted it before.
But then again, there were different kinds of beer. You couldn’t just say you wanted
a
beer. This was
ridiculous. I must look like an idiot. Why was I even here? I had no idea what I was doing.

“I’ll have a rum and Coke,” I said. I had heard that once on a movie. I was relieved it had popped
into my memory so quickly.

 

He nodded and then turned to make the drink.

I shifted my attention to the others that were in the bar. There was an older man sitting by himself
directly across from me on the other side of the counter. He looked up at me once and then quickly
away when he realized that I had been staring at him. There were two girls sitting a few seats down to
my left that were busy chatting away to each other, and there was a small crew sitting at one of the
tables near a window, eating pizza with a pitcher of beer in the middle of them. They were being
fairly loud, their laughter carrying above the hum of the music playing in the background.

“Here you are.” The bartender put a napkin down and then my drink on top of it.
I dug through my purse for some money. “Keep the change,” I told him.
He eyed me curiously for a moment but then said nothing and walked away.

I sat there for a few moments trying to blend into the atmosphere around me, taking a few sips of the
drink. It wasn’t too bad actually. I was glad I had chosen this over beer. I tried to keep my mind
occupied with the music, an old classic rock tune lightly thumping in the background from an old
jukebox lit up in the corner. It sounded like something I may have heard before. I tried to focus on the
smell of the cigarettes, something I strongly disliked, by trying to come up with a list of reasons why
exactly I disliked them so much. Anything to keep my mind from wandering back to my father and
Buck, the prison, Emry, the kiss. Oh, the kiss. It was etched into my memory and made me almost
tingle with the excitement of remembering, but everything else that took place directly afterwards
would return to my mind as well. I wasn’t doing a good job of blocking it out. I frowned and began
playing with the tiny black straw in my drink and watched as the ice melted, watering down the
mixture.

The door of the bar opened, and I could feel the cold air against the back of my calves. I shivered
and heard the loud voices of what sounded like a boisterous group of men entering. They were
laughing and talking so loudly as to draw attention to themselves that I immediately knew that they
were already drunk. They stayed behind me for a few moments chatting on, but the one man’s speech
was so slurred that I couldn’t really understand what he was talking about. I tried to block out their
conversation and return my attention back to stirring my drink. I took another sip.

One of them that I supposed belonged to the group came around to the corner of the bar to my right
where I could catch a glimpse of him. He was a middle-aged man with a heavy navy-blue coat on.
“How about a round of shots for my friends, Richie?” he asked the bartender clear and loud enough
that I was sure every other person in the bar knew what he was ordering.

 

The bartender reached underneath the table and pulled out six shot glasses and lined them in a row
on top of the counter. He began filling each of them with a brown-colored liquor.

 

“Come on over here, boys!” he shouted, motioning for the rest of his crew.

I felt a little withdrawn again as I saw that the rest of the group of men were all just about as tall
and husky as the first guy. They all had similar colored coats, some with ball caps on, others with
varying degrees of winter hats, but there were six of them that gathered in the corner, all holding up a
shot glass in the air. One of them mumbled something. A toast perhaps? And then they all mumbled in
agreement after him and downed the liquor in a grizzly fashion.

Then every inch of me suddenly wanted to make a sprint for the door as I caught a glimpse of one of
the men. Just a few feet away from me standing alongside the man who had ordered shots was none
other than Buck Brady. I immediately looked away so as to not draw attention to myself by making
any sort of eye contact. My hand snapped away from my drink as I pulled both hands up into the
sleeve of my sweatshirt and lowered my head so that my hair would fall over that side of my face. I
had to get out of here. Now.

My head began spinning again as I felt as if I wanted to melt like the ice in my drink and slither
away under the door to get out of here. Of all places to run into him. I didn’t know Buck was a
drinker. If he was like the rest of his jolly crew, he probably had had one too many also.

I wondered how I was going to be able to get out of here without being noticed. What could I do? If
I stood up and walked away, surely he would notice. He was right
there
. I could practically reach out
and touch him. Maybe I should run. That’s what I wanted to do, make a mad dash for my car. I still
thought it was too risky. He would recognize me for sure. But what other choice did that leave me
with? I had to continue sitting here and pray with all my might that he just would be too drunk to care
or take notice. He hadn’t paid any attention to me yet. Maybe tonight would be my lucky night. Then
again, the rest of the day hadn’t exactly been what I would label as lucky.
Far from it, in fact
, I
thought. The last thing I needed right now was another confrontation with Buck Brady. He’d probably
try to hit me again, only this time my father wouldn’t be around to stop him. I remembered the piercing
hatred I had seen burning in his eyes earlier. I shivered.