Authors: Kathleen Lash
Whisper
But Doug made her strip—more than once. He hit her if she didn’t.” Her hands balled into fists before she pressed them to her temples. “But if she hated it so much, why would she make money doing it? God, I was so angry with her. I hated thinking about her doing it to feed me. I felt so—guilty! So I hurt her back. Jared told me to never tell her what I saw. He said it’d kill her. Did I kill her? Keith, did I kill her?” He couldn’t feel his arms but saw them surrounding Heather. She needed it, the comfort, and safety.
He closed his eyes and held her tighter. “No, honey. She’s hurt and driving and thinking. She’s not even mad at you, no one is.” He cleared his throat, felt like a kid himself with some raw emotions. “We’ll go home and you’ll sleep in Corey’s room. He’ll double up with Billy. You’ll stay with me until Whisper comes back.”
“I should stay here and wait. She’d be worried if she came home and I wasn’t here.” His chest hurt from the inside out. He felt the cold seeping into the house through every tiny crack.
The urge to shudder eventually passed. “She’d be so pissed if I left you here. And I can’t sleep if I’m not near the kids. Stay with me and keep me company.
She’ll be back.” If false hope would let her cope, he’d give it.
“She left money for you. She said it was a down payment. She’ll get you more money. She’ll be back to pay you, and then I can apologize. I won’t be there for long.” Her voice had a pleading quality. “I can cook like Whisper. I won’t cause trouble. I’ll be better than before, I promise.”
God, stop!
“You’re fine the way you are, Heather. You’ve never been a problem. You were never a problem for Whisper either. She loves you.”
“She’s all I have.”
“She’ll be back.”
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“I love her.”
“She knows.”
“I was just mad.”
“She knows, honey.”
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Whisper
“Can I come home?” Whisper asked.
“When?” Doug replied.
“Tomorrow. One in the afternoon.”
“Are you flying in?”
“Yes.”
“Give me your flight number. I’ll be there.”
“No,” she said, “send someone. You don’t have to.” “It’s either me or the police.” She’d given the flight number and boarded the plane. Slightly over nine hours later, Doug met her at the departure gate. Two large men dressed in business suits accompanied him. She wondered if they were police.
Dressed impeccably in designer jeans, Gucci shirt with Prada sunglasses folded in his pocket, he stared as she walked up. He stepped forward and she swallowed the sick, helpless feelings as he embraced her. Despite the clothes, he looked worse than ever, his eyes telling how he’d spent time since she’d left.
She lightly returned the embrace and he whispered close to her ear, “You’re a fucking mess, Wendy. How much weight did you put on?” He pinched her waist. “We’ll fix it.” He turned and ran his hand up her spine until his fingers tightened around the back of her neck. He pressed deep and started her walking. “Where’s Heather?”
“Safe.”
“For now.”
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The two men followed close behind, a mere few feet, in fact. Did he think she’d change her mind and run? “Where’s your wedding ring?” He still wore his. “Pawned.”
“You were supposed to give it back. If you needed cash,” he said, maintaining a smile for the people they passed, “you only had to call.”
“I need cash. I called. I’m back.”
“Without Heather. What happened?”
“I found her a guardian.”
Not another word came between them until they left the building. A limo rolled up, and one of the men held the door open. Doug squeezed her neck and shoved her forward. She fell in and scooted to the opposite door. He sat in the middle of the seat. Her hands folded in her lap while she waited. Anything could happen. He turned, bent his knee, brought it up on the seat and leaned against the back.
He pulled strands of her hair through his fingers, tugging on the ends before doing it again.
“Why would I sign over guardianship when having her around keeps you in line?”
“It does? Where have I been, Doug?” The slap didn’t hurt nearly as bad after doing without them for a while. Unable to feel much of anything, she waited. He’d hit, or yell or ignore. One was as good as the next. “Whatever. Keep it up and I won’t be on stage any time soon.”
“You’ll do what I tell you, or pay.”
“Sure. Fine.” The indifference seemed to bother him. She’d typically cower or rage. The rage seldom happened. She couldn’t muster up the fear.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“It’s simple. You get your lawyers to draw up the papers and turn over guardianship of Heather with a monthly allowance of ten thousand dollars until she’s eighteen.”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
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“I wonder how much another album would make the band—oh, and you, of course. I wonder how many concerts we could do? Heard sales have plummeted. Would my face and name smeared all over everything make life good for you again?”
Ching-ching.
She practically heard the sound coming from between his ears.
The mental cash
register wins!
She knew he’d trade Heather for more money any day. He’d also probably be happy to get her out from underfoot. He didn’t love Heather. He was incapable of loving anything except the drugs.
“What do you get out of this?”
“Left alone.”
“Not a chance in hell, Wendy.”
“Touch me and I’ll kill you.”
“Yeah?” His hand clutched her throat and tightened until she couldn’t breathe. More damage to her vocal chords wouldn’t matter. They’d been crushed before. She’d simply talk quieter, or maybe not at all. After the marks receded the last time, he’d actually taken her to a doctor.
Perplexing symptoms,
Ms. Black. Your inability to speak normally seems
unwarranted, especially without a history of trauma
to your throat
. Shoved away from him, she rested her head against the back of the seat.
“Heather gets a new mommy and daddy, and you start behaving again. Hell of a bargain. You’ll behave, won’t you, Wendy?”
To a point
. She opened her mouth and nothing came out. Unconcerned because it’d happened before, she turned away and stared out the window.
“I guess you’re back to being Whisper for a while. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.” The backs of his fingers stroked her neck. “I was angry. You pushed me. Let’s start over and make it work this time. Okay?”
She nodded. If she had a dollar for every time he’d spoken those words, she and Heather could’ve 189
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lived comfortably in the Bahamas until Heather turned twenty-one. Behind closed eyelids, the sun warmed her face through the tinted glass.
Exhausted and empty, she allowed Doug to place his arm around her before he slid close.
She belonged with Doug. He was a weak and helpless human, clinging to the only life he knew.
She no longer really feared him. She pitied him. At least she’d had a perfect time with family, caring and warmth. What a blessing to have it happen around the holidays too. She’d make the memories last.
****
Mark walked in the front door and shrugged out of his coat. Taking a seat across the table, Mark rubbed his hands over his face. “Nomad called.” Before Keith could feel relief, he asked, “Is he all right?”
“Yeah.” Nomad took off the night Whisper left.
He’d called Mark a few times, letting him know he wasn’t dead or anything, but wouldn’t say where he’d gone. “He’s in San Diego. He found Whisper.”
“He ready to come home?”
“He said he’s fine, not to worry.”
“That it?”
“Pretty much.”
Every last one of them ran on adrenaline and not much sleep.
“What’s with the papers?” Mark asked.
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Keith debated what to tell him. Having enough of avoiding touchy subjects, he said, “Heather and I are taking a trip to San Diego. There’s a court hearing about her guardianship in less than a week.”
Mark’s fist hit the table. “That’s bullshit! How did he find her?” His eyes rounded a few seconds later. “No way. Whisper wouldn’t say a word!”
“You think Nomad did?”
They both knew who instigated the legal proceedings. Mark asked, “What can we do?”
“I’m working on it. I’ll have it ironed out.”
“God, she’d have to hate us all to do something like this.”
Keith didn’t disagree and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t really blame Whisper. Maybe since she couldn’t protect Heather anymore, she’d begun protecting herself. They’d go to California, but he wouldn’t leave Heather behind. He’d try it legally, their way, but if things headed in the wrong direction, he’d make sure that kid never wound up back with her asshole brother. Keith would spend every dime in the savings account to do it. Whisper said to take care of her. He would, even if she’d changed her mind.
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Keith and Heather sat in the hallway of the courthouse on a bench. Allan Woodward, the older, distinguished looking attorney stood before them, briefing them on what to expect. They’d talked several times before arriving. He’d explained to Heather what to say, what not to say, and how to answer questions. She literally shook, terrified of her future, despite his constant reassurances.
Heather excused herself to go to the bathroom.
She’d puked twice on the flight over and only seemed to get more wound up the longer they waited. With nerves raw himself, Keith wished a round of throwing up would alleviate some of the tension inside.
People passed by as he waited. Two men in suits came to stand outside the courtroom doors. They scanned the hall, checked out everyone in the vicinity before one of them spoke. “Clear.” They appeared to be security of some nature. A man and woman followed another security guy toward the doors.
“Only half an hour late,” Woodward said. “At least they showed.”
Keith stood, unconsciously buttoning the suit coat while trying to get a better look at the couple.
The man was about six feet tall with long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. He dressed somewhat casually in black dress pants and a black, button down shirt. The woman wore a dark gray pants suit with black heels. The closer they got, the more he 192
Whisper
relaxed. The woman had shoulder length pitch-black hair. Long bangs concealed almost half of her face.
She wore crimson lipstick with dark shadow, liner and lashes.
When the security men opened the courtroom doors, the couple walked by and the woman lifted her face to glance at him. His pulse raced, stomach knotted and he instinctively took a few steps to grab her. Woodward caught his arm and stopped him.
Whisper dropped her gaze, hung her head, and let her ex drag her along.
The doors closed and a security man stayed outside, legs slightly apart, hands folded in front of him.
Let me or Heather be the reason she looks so
bad. God, make that bastard treat her right this
time.
She planned on staying with him. The court proceedings clearly outlined her intent.
“What’s wrong?” Woodward asked.
Everything!
She appeared drawn, thin, half-dead with the black hair against her light complexion. Even make-up couldn’t conceal her hollowed cheeks or how tired she looked. Not a spark of recognition, hurt or life shone in her eyes.
“She’s a goddamned walking corpse. Call this off, postpone it, stop it! She can’t take it, not now.”
“Keith, we need to start the defense. Heather’s young. She’ll bounce back once things were settled.”
“Not Heather. Her sister. You have to stop this somehow!”
Heather walked up and grasped his hand. He squeezed before lacing their fingers.
“You’re here,” Woodward said. “We can’t postpone. It’ll work out. Take it easy.” Heather’s brother walked by him without a glance to see who’d be fighting him over custody.
Either he figured he’d win hands down, or didn’t give a shit. Both scenarios made anger surge. Before things got settled, he’d get a piece of Doug Neuman, 193
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one big enough to make up for some pain he’d inflicted on Whisper and Heather.
After ten minutes of standing in silence, Heather backed toward the bench. When she sat, she held tight and made him sit too. “I’m sorry, Keith.”
“Not your fault, honey. It’s fine.” Heather wore jeans, a white cotton blouse with her hair pulled back. A pale, washed out face, made her look twelve, not sixteen. Twenty-five minutes later with his nerves in a full fit, the door opened and a man in a white shirt, black tie and pants said,
“Manchester, Neuman.”
Woodward led them inside, past the rows of chairs, up to a table at the front. Keith walked behind and Heather followed. Woodward motioned for them to have a seat. Grinding his teeth wouldn’t help, but it seemed beyond his control. The only thing keeping him seated and quiet was Heather.
She looked small and helpless sitting next to him, her shoulders quaking as she blinked tears down her cheeks. The attorney grabbed two tissues out of the box on the table and handed them to her.
“Attorney Woodward, please approach,” the judge said.
Without Woodward standing to their right, he had a clear view of Whisper. Heather blotted tears and looked where he did. She choked and put her hand over mouth. Keith patted her back.
He said quietly, “Easy, honey. The judge will think you’re crying because you’re terrified of me.” She shook her head and sniffed quietly. She kept turning to glance at Whisper. Whisper’s gaze remained straight ahead or in her lap, never once turning in their direction. Keith stared, unable to believe three weeks changed her so drastically.