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Katie returns with my Coke and asks if we would like anything else. Huxley brushes her away and grabs my thigh.
“Act natural. Don’t start the conversation. Let him come to you.”
I don’t turn to look at him until he is two feet away from me. His hair is starting to grey, which coincides with the wrinkles around his eyes. My tall stature almost matches his, but he still has a few inches on me. I wonder if he was larger before because his slight build makes it hard to believe he had the strength to pin my mum down. His sparse facial hair is unkept and scruffy. His tan coat and shoes are both marked with dirt.He’s a mess.
Watching him flirt with Katie, I realise I no longer want to do this. Not because I’m scared, but because he’s not worth it. From observing him for only a few minutes, I know this stranger will never be able to give me the closure or answers I’m seeking.
I grab Huxley’s hand to tell him to get me out of here, but I’m a second too late because a sleazy grin is directed at me.
“You like what you see?” He blatantly eyes me up and down, making me feel sick.
“Watch yourself,” Huxley threatens behind me.
My father’s amber eyes flicker to Huxley with a menace, but it dissipates when he realises he would never win against the six-foot-three muscular man. He throws his hands up in surrender and lets out a gruff laugh. “Your woman was staring at me. Might want to put her on a leash.”
My hands ball into a fist, ready to punch him, but Huxley’s light touch on my waist stops me. Putting on a smile, I say, “Sorry, you just looked so familiar. Do I know you?”
His beady eyes roam over me before he shrugs. “Can’t remember fuck all these days. You from around here?”
“Just stopping by.”
Katie hands him his drink, but he doesn’t move from the bar. He takes a step towards me. “You look like someone I used to know.”
My throat feels tight at the thought of him remembering my mum. Does he still get off on what he did? Does he lay awake and reminisce about pinning her down and forcing himself on her?
“Who’s that?”
He lets out another laugh. “It’s all history. You have a good night.”
He walks towards a group of three men who cheer as he joins them. The three men look about the same age as him. They pat him on the back and settle into a private conversation.
Do they know that their friend is a rapist? If they did, would they still be friends with him?
“Stop staring.”
I turn around and take small sips of my Coke. Something is nagging the back of my head. How does a man like him have friends? Putting aside the rape, he’s a dirty, deadbeat drunk.How can you be friends with someone like that and be okay with it? Unless…
“They’re still friends,” I whisper to myself.
That doesn’t stop Huxley from hearing me. “Who?”
“It wasallof them. They’re still friends. Still drinking together. Probably still going around raping women together. How else could they tolerate him?“ I look over my shoulder again, but a bald white man catches my stare this time. He doesn’t smile at me, and neither I at him.
Let them look at my face and remember what they did to my mother.
He stands up from the table and walks over to the bar where we’re sat. “I haven’t seen a pretty thing like you here in a long time,” he drawls.
“We’re not from here,” Huxley answers.
Finding my voice and courage, I square my shoulders. “Can I help you?”
“You know my friend back there?” He points behind us at my father, but I don’t look back.
“Nope.”
“He said you do.”
“And he said I remind him of someone he once knew.” I smile at him. “Do you know who that may be?”
