Dead Silence (Stillwater Trilogy #1)(9)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Maybe we don’t recognize her with her clothes on,” Joe Vincelli said. The meaningful snicker that went with those words brought his name back to Grace right away. He was the reverend’s beloved nephew. He’d also coined the humiliating nickname that had been written on her locker and echoed after her in the halls.

“Shut up, she’ll hear you,” someone growled. Was it Buzz Harte? She couldn’t be sure. He seemed to have changed the most; he’d certainly lost a lot of hair.

More murmuring and a few muffled guffaws made Grace’s ears burn. Heart pounding, she stared down at her plate. Fourteen or fifteen years ago, she’d had sex with at least three of these men in fumbling back-seat trysts or behind a building. Obviously, they remembered those encounters with far more relish than she did. She didn’t know how she could’ve allowed anyone to use her so terribly, especially the boys who’d attended high school with her.

Except that she’d been searching for something she couldn’t find….

Feeling faint, she wiped off the sweat beading on her upper lip, and wondered if she could slip out of the restaurant without having to pass right by them.

Then Joe’s voice carried to her again, louder than the others, and it was as if no time had passed at all. “She was one hell of an easy lay, wasn’t she? All you had to do was crook your finger, and she’d spread her legs. I did her once behind the bleachers with my parents sitting about ten feet away.”

Grace’s chest constricted as they laughed, which made it difficult to breathe. With Joe, it had been even more complicated than wanting so desperately to be liked. She’d felt she owed him some type of compensation for the loss of his uncle.

“She once asked me if she could be my girlfriend for a few weeks,” Tim said. His voice was much lower than Joe’s, but she heard enough words to be able to string them together. “I told her yes before I screwed her, then broke up with her right after.” His subsequent laugh was a bark of disbelief. “It’s amazing how anyone that stupid could get into Georgetown.”

Someone—Buzz?—must’ve smacked him because he groaned.

“Stupid? Come on. She’s definitely not stupid. She was—” his voice dropped, but she managed to cull the meaning “—screwed-up…something weird going on in that house….”

“There wasn’t anything weird going on until they killed my uncle,” Joe said defensively.

“You don’t know what happened to your uncle,” Tim said, a little more clearly. Joe started to argue, but Tim raised a hand. “And, trust me, they were weird from the beginning.”

“Because of her bitch of a mother,” Joe grumbled.

After that, there were several whispered remarks. But Grace wasn’t listening; she was struggling to hang on to her composure.

Unfortunately, her stomach wasn’t cooperating. It churned and ached as her mind painted pictures of what she’d done with these men when they were boys.

She’d tried to make up for those mistakes ever since. But it wasn’t enough, was it? It was never enough.

“Go say hi to her, Joe,” Tim said. “Maybe you can do her right here. If you make her squeal, maybe she’ll tell you what happened to your uncle.”

Joe’s response was a muted snarl as the man who’d been ordering now joined the others at the table. “What’re you guys talking about?” he asked, his words resonating clearly.

Grace hadn’t seen this guy’s face, but she didn’t need to. It was Kennedy Archer—the most handsome, the most athletic, the most admired of them all. She knew him instantly but couldn’t stop herself from looking up to confirm it.

He hadn’t gotten fat. Nor had he gone bald, like some of his friends. He was still tall and broad-shouldered, with dark-blond hair and dimples on either side of his poster-boy smile. And, according to the campaign signs all over town, he was running for mayor, hoping to take the seat his father had occupied for so long.

Their eyes met. Surprise lit his face as recognition dawned, and he quit yanking on the tie he’d been trying to loosen.

Grace turned immediately away. In the restaurant business, four o’clock was the slowest part of the day. What were the chances that Kennedy Archer and his bunch would gather at the pizza joint while she was here, just like they used to when she worked behind the counter at sixteen?

She remembered watching every move they made, trying to anticipate their needs, to be funny, cool—and had to bite her lip to contain her roiling emotions. She hadn’t expected to confront them all at once, hadn’t prepared herself for the feelings that doing so might evoke. It seemed as though they’d shoved her back into the skin of the needy child she used to be.

How could she let that happen? Why hadn’t she seen it coming?

She’d been too focused on what mattered to her as an adult, of course. Clay and Irene—and her stepsister Madeline, whom she hadn’t called yet. High school was like another life to her, a dark time when she’d despised herself far more than anyone else could.

Suddenly, she realized she couldn’t stay where she was any longer. Bile rose from her stomach, burning the back of her throat….

Standing with as much dignity as she could muster, she hurried to the back of the restaurant and into the bathroom.

Once the door closed behind her, blocking out the curious stares that had followed her from the table, she launched herself into a toilet stall and fell to her knees, just in time to lose what little she’d eaten of her dinner.

3

She wasn’t coming back. The other guys had finally forgotten “Grinding Gracie” and gone on to talk about the election, the price local farmers were getting for cotton, a father/son fishing trip they were planning to take together in August. But Kennedy found himself glancing over at the table where Grace Montgomery had been sitting. Her food was still there. She’d eaten a little salad, but her pizza was untouched and growing colder by the minute.

Was she okay? He rocked back in his chair to check the darkened hallway that led to the restrooms, but he didn’t see her. How long could it take to go to the bathroom?

“Kennedy, what’s wrong with you, man?” Joe said, nudging him. “You too good for the rest of us now that you’re going to be mayor?”

“I’ve always been too good for you bastards,” he teased as he lowered his chair. But after a few halfhearted remarks about the fishing trip, he let the conversation slip away from him again. He was waiting for Grace to come out. The guys had been groaning and whistling at her while she walked to the bathroom, making stupid comments that said they had more testosterone than brains. He wanted to say something to Grace that would smooth it all over, help her feel welcome. If he could.