Free 3 A Brewski for the Old Man by Phyllis Smallman

was it to hold a race before hurricane season was over?”
    “We should be all right, nothing major out there. They’re just being careful. As soon as the forecast clears, the race begins again. I’ll be glad when this trip is over with. You get a whole different view of people when you live on a thirty-foot yacht with them. One’s a control freak who has us polishing teak every spare second, and the other one turns out to be a secret drinker. It starts before lunch and goes on all day. By eight he’s passed out somewhere on deck.” “You miss me, don’t ya?”
    “You don’t know how much, which is a good thing. If you knew how much I missed you…well, my life would be hell.”
    “Oh, Clay, you are so wrong,” I protested in my best little girl voice. “I’d never take advantage.”
    He laughed. “Already my life’s not my own. Neither is my soul. I’m just trying to hold on to a little dignity here.”
    Would he come home if I asked him to? Likely, if he was able to find a way off those islands, but it wouldn’t solve my problem. I needed to do that all on my own, needed the space to make a decision. Most of all I had to find the courage to throw my biggest secret out there for everyone to see. “You just be careful. And win that damn race.”
    The phone rang. The red dial said two-thirty. Panic. No good news comes at that hour of the night. “Hello, hello,” I shouted. “Bitch. You’re so going to regret this.”
    I slammed the phone down. How had he gotten the unlisted number? Rena, it had to be.
    I was still awake when it rang at three-thirty. This time when I lifted the receiver I heard another phone pick up. I hadn’t turned off the ringer of the phone in the den. I hit the Off button while the voice on the phone was still spewing obscenities and threats.

C H A P T E R 1 3
    “Don’t tell anyone,” Lacey said. We were in the truck and I was delivering her to school.
    I took my eyes off the rearview. “What exactly aren’t I supposed to tell? Things are piling up and I’m getting confused.”
    “About my arms.” She sat hunched up in the corner as far away from me as she could get.
    I turned left on Banyan and braked for a jogger darting across in front of me. “Can’t promise that.”
    “Just for a little bit?”
    “This is too big to hide. You need help.”
    “Even if I promise not to do it anymore?”
    “Nope. I’m not your guardian, or warden or whatever. I’m not checking you out for fresh cuts, and I can’t make sure you don’t do it again.” “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
    “Still nope.” I parked in front of the school. “Have a good day.” Silly words.
    She pushed open the door. Reluctant and beaten, she dragged her backpack behind her.
    I kept one eye peeled for Ray John and one eye on Lacey to make sure she didn’t bolt. Lacey dragged herself into the building, not acknowledging the other kids, alone in a sea of humanity.
    I went to see Rena. The store didn’t open until ten but I knew she’d be there, tidying up, unpacking stock and doing the books.
    Rena didn’t look well. Her hair looked faded and dull, her normally impeccable makeup looked smudged over a bruise showing beneath the heavy foundation high on her left cheek. The love of her life seemed to be back to his old tricks.
    Rena and I pretended she wasn’t wearing the evidence of his cruelty, pretended life was just as it had been a day ago.
    When the small talk ended, her shock began. “Did you know Lacey has been cutting herself?” I asked.
    “What?” She backed away from me, her horror real. Denial quickly followed. “You’re crazy.”
    “Nope. I’ve seen the scars.”
    “Lacey hasn’t any scars.”
    “She has, Rena. And she admitted cutting herself, tried to make me promise not to tell you.”
    She covered her mouth with her hand, slowly shaking her head in denial before asking, “Why?”
    Before I could reply, a fresh resolve gripped her. “She has to come home.”
    “What will