“And because we didn’t run, she sacrificed every penny she had. She
would’ve told me.” Tori and her mother shared a history, having survived
the devil whose velvety voice caressed an ear with its deep timbre, but its
words … its words branched through the quadrants of the brain before
wrapping it in a vice grip of terror.
“No, she wouldn’t share something like that,” Monique contradicted.
“She said he gave her you, so she didn’t regret that part of things. She did
whatever was necessary to keep you safe. That meant writing checks.”
A piece of the puzzle clicked into place: revenge, money. “Oh my
God,” Tori exclaimed. “Now, she can’t pay him anymore. Luke is Teddy’s
son. Could he know that?”
Tori met Teddy Wieland III during her freshman year at Carlington
University. They atten ded a fundraiser at the Engineering department,
where she worked as an office assistant. In addition to being one fine
specimen of a man, he had finesse, polish; and before she knew it, he’d
finessed his way into her life and polished off her virginity.
Of course, the Disney fairytale she’d been spoon-fed since birth
didn’t apply to this situation. When she excitedly told Teddy the news
of her unexpected pregnancy, he smiled, embraced her, went out for the
proverbial gallon of milk, and kept it moving.
Enter the wife, the one he neglected to inform that Tori existed; the
wife, who wrote a check and told Tori she’d hand it over the minute their
family physician confirmed the termination of her pregnancy.
Monique’s weathered hands, which still sported the diamond from
husband number two, stroked Tori’s. “Sweetie, you have to listen to me.
It’s not about the money. I don’t think it ever was. Your father mentally
tortured Honey for years. Somehow, he always knew exactly what kind
of cash she could get her hands on. Always with a laugh and a thinly
veiled, ‘We could always go to court.’ Or when you were older, ‘Maybe I’ll
drop by and see my baby girl.’ This is about control. He needs a puppet.”
Tori could feel her muscles tighten, even though Antoine continued
to knead her shoulders and back. She leaned back, her head resting on
Antoine’s stomach. “So now it’s me.”
Sierra Kay is a master
storyteller with an M.A. in
Writing from DePaul University.
Her accomplishments include
a Nuyorican Poets Cafe Short
Story Slam win and featured
comedy sketches on stages
in theaters around Chicago
including at Second City. She
is an award-winning suspense
novelist. Her novels From
Behind the Curtain, In the Midst
of Fire, and At the Touch of
Love are available online.
Her upcoming works include
a short story in the anthology,
Sugar, available October 2018.
www.sierrakay.com