House Rules: The Jack Gordon Story by Liz Crowe Read Free Book Online

been dead asleep for a couple of
hours.
    “You,”
his father said, slurring, wobbling around and holding a beer bottle. His laugh
was harsh, and Jack steeled himself for the usual round of ignoring the man’s
insults and trying not to punch his idiot lights out.
    He
rubbed his eyes, got to his feet. The time with Mindy had numbed him to John
Gordon’s regular ranting, to his various bullshit tirades laced with long bouts
of silence. A small sliver of guilt sliced through him when he realized that
his little sister had been left to take the brunt of their father’s crap for
the past weeks.
    Well
that was over now. He was back in control. He’d see Mindy, sure, mess around
with her no doubt. But it would not comprise the be-all, end-all of his
existence anymore.
    He
tried to shuffle past the man who stood, swaying slightly, in his way. His
father stopped him with a firm hand against Jack’s chest. “You are an idiot.”
The last word spat, literally, as a spray of saliva hit Jack’s face, making him
close his eyes.
    “Whatever,
Dad. I’m going to bed.” He pushed the hand off his chest.
    The
man laughed again, harsh, loud, making Jack’s scalp prickle with dread. “No,
really. Jack, son, are you that stupid? That naïve? You knocked her up, you
goddamned walking, talking horn dog.”
    Jack
stared, trying to compute what was being said, but unable or unwilling to as he
watched his father drop into his usual chair and plop his feet on the ottoman.
“Fucking idiot,” he muttered, letting the beer bottle fall to the carpet.
    “What
are you talking about?” His jaw clenched so tight it hurt, but he was unable to
move from his spot across the room.
    His
father sat up, fixed him with a bleary glare, and pointed. “I got your cherry
popped, son. Bought and paid for the Lose-My-Virginity party, I did. And what
do you do? How do you repay me? Jesus.” He flopped back and stared at the
ceiling. “You ruin the best piece of ass I’ve had in years, with your
stupidity. You don’t fuck a woman without a rubber. Christ. That’s how they get
you.” He leered at Jack, who was convinced he was having a heart attack. “Every
time… they get you with their bullshit.” He got up, stared at his son for a few
seconds. “Don’t stand there with your mouth hanging open like a retard. Get me
a beer. I took care of it. Don’t worry. But don’t count on seeing her ever
again either, stupid cunt.”
    Jack’s
vision dimmed, and he barely remembered the next few minutes. As a matter of
fact, the next thing he knew Mo was crying, yanking on his arm as he reared
back to punch his father’s nose, again. This time the man had been ready for
him and landed his own blows, defended himself enough that Jack’s own face bore
bruises, and his nose was crooked for a week until he got the damn thing
re-set.
    He
did see Mindy again once when she was cleaning out her desk at work a few days
after the confrontation. She was teary-eyed but didn’t speak, until he followed
her out to her car and tried to hold her, kiss her, tell her how sorry he was
that they’d both been so badly screwed by his father.
    “Jack,”
she’d muttered into his chest as he held her close and tried not to yell.
“Don’t be him. Whatever you do.” A tear dropped from her lashes. He touched it,
panicked fury beating its bat wings against the inside of his ribcage, hurting
him, making him furious and wanting to hit something. “I…I’ll miss you.” She
leaned into him.
    He
pulled back, held onto her arms. “Tell me something,” he said, his voice
hoarse. “Why? I mean…how much did he give you to…fuck me?”
    She
kept her eyes down, staying quiet so long he thought she hadn’t heard his
question. “I took his money that first time. But I gave it back the next day,
and wouldn’t take any more after that. I told him….” She put a hand over her
mouth and shut her eyes. Jack felt his heart pounding, as a bizarre combination
of anger and frustration