Escalation Clause Read Online Free PDF Page A

with frustrated grief.

Chapter Two

     
    Twenty Years Earlier
     
    “Don’t worry about me,” Mo tossed over shoulder at her brother’s angry face. “I’ll be fine. But I am not going to live here, with him,” she pointed at her father. The man in question sat at the kitchen table, a stiff drink in his hand, glaring at her.
    “But,” Jack sputtered. “You can’t just leave, Maureen. That’s just dumb.”
    “Oh, yeah,” she held back the tears she knew her father expected from her, if only just to spite him. “Watch me.” She shouldered her school backpack and grabbed the suitcase she’d packed the night before. The night he’d stated without hesitation Maureen was fated to become “just like her mother,” so why even try that hard at school. She should find a boy, get knocked up, get married, and get out of his house. Mo had no idea what had happened to get him so worked up, but she’d spent way too much energy trying to cope with his temper. She never knew from one day to the next what he’d say to her and had stopped caring.
    She looked back at her father who sat staring straight ahead. “Tell you what, Dad ,” Mo heard her voice get thin with anger, “I’ll just get out the house now before I bother with the knocking up and marrying. That work for you?” Without waiting for a reply, she slammed the screen door behind her and climbed into her VW Bug. She gripped the steering wheel, wishing she had talked to Jack more before she did this admittedly crazy thing. But, she had to take the step without relying on him for a change. Denise Taylor and her family had told Mo that morning she could stay with them “a while” until “things settled down.” Settling down seemed unlikely, but she’d take it a day at a time at this point. She’d be moving into her University of Michigan dorm in late August anyway. Might as well cut the cord now. Despite the tearful pressure building behind her eyes, she gutted it out, determined to hold back the emotion. She simply would not give her jerk of a father the satisfaction.
    As she pulled into the Taylor’s driveway, the summer heat rose from the asphalt in shimmering waves. She sat, staring at the large red brick house where she had spent so many hours with her brother and their friends, Brandis and Denise Taylor. It sat back from the cul-de-sac street and had an in-ground pool, huge patio, and a finished, kid-friendly basement. The four of them had swam, played ball, ridden bikes, shot illicit fireworks, then later drank beer and smoked pot, and everything in between during their growing up years in Ann Arbor. Somehow, it seemed different now. Smaller, less imposing, maybe even a little shabby, but it didn’t matter. It was not her father’s house, and that’s all that mattered.
    Denise stood in the front entrance, her dark mocha skin and head of frizzy hair complemented by a white tube top and jeans shorts. Her bright smile made Mo’s heart skip a beat. They had not been friends long, having been thrown together by circumstance of their brothers’ relationship. But the bond between them transcended anything superficial. “C’mon in,” she held the door open. Mo trudged in, dropped her suitcase and backpack, then burst into tears.
    Later, after the adults had left the teenage girls to the monotonous drone of the television, Mo looked over to find Denise sound asleep on the couch. She crept outside to the still warm bricks and perched on the edge of the pool. The water had cooled some but held a pleasant residual heat of the day. She dangled her feet in and lay back on the patio, trying to relax. Images shot through her brain—her asshole father, angry brother, and a barely-remembered mother who had died of liver failure when Mo was twelve. The distressingly handsome face of her current boyfriend—well, the guy who’d taken her to prom about a month ago and who’d tried like hell to get her to go all the way ghosted across her memory.
    When she