Alex in Wonderland (The Wonderland Series Book 1) (10 page)

14

What a Drag!

Alex tossed and moaned as he
dreamed of running blindly through the fog, toward an unknown, elusive destination.
He knew he’d never find what he was looking for, and that terrible reality
worsened when hands emerged through the fog to impede his flight. When they
grabbed and shook him, he tried to scream.

“Easy, Alex!”

Alex woke up, gasping for breath. He
was staring into Cord’s dark eyes and felt a powerful grip on his shoulders.
“What’s going on?”

“You were having a nightmare,” Cord
explained. “You yelled so loud you scared the bejesus out of those old ladies
across the aisle. They thought you were having some kind of seizure, and
frankly I wondered myself.”

Alex blinked like an owl in the
sunlight, then rubbed his eyes. “Wow. That was a little too real.”

“What was?”

“I was dreaming that…oh, it doesn’t
matter.” He looked through the window, as though searching for a recognizable
landmark. He saw a blur of piney woods, scrub palmetto and Spanish dagger,
the monotonous landscape of panhandle
Florida
.
“Where are we?”

“Coming into Tallahassee,”
Cord replied.

Alex frowned. “The last place I
remember was Chattahoochee.”

“That was over an hour ago. You had
quite a snooze, man.”

Alex sat up as he came fully awake.
He remembered his concerns about Cord being a thief and chided his paranoia.
He’d slept through two bus stops, giving Cord ample opportunity to abscond with
his bag, and the guy had been nothing but helpful. He felt sheepish.

“Thanks for waking me up.”

“No problem.” Cord chuckled, making
Alex think he was more relaxed too. “I’m surprised you didn’t wake yourself up
from the snoring.”

Alex was embarrassed. “I was
snoring?”

“A little,” Cord reported. “But
nothing like last night. Man, you sounded like a buzz saw.”

“What’re you talking about?”

Alex’s question earned a
consequential stare, and as the last of his sleep cobwebs disintegrated, the
terrible truth dawned. Cord had seen through his disguise!

“You knew that was me?”

“Nor right away. I got suspicious
when I went to the lavatory and heard you snoring. I didn’t know women snored
like that and was still thinking about it when I went back to my seat. As I
passed by I noticed your Adam’s apple.”

Alex gulped. “Oh.”

Cord winked. “And your wig was
crooked.”

“Oh, shit!”

“Then there was that quick change
act you pulled in Mobile.
In the handicapped toilet.”

“You don’t miss much, do you?”

“Just part of what I learned at the
Police Academy.”

Alex’s heart leapt. “I thought you
said you were a personal trainer.”

“I am. I found out early on that I
wasn’t cut out to be a cop so I never graduated. I remember a lot of the
training though, stuff that comes in handy.”

“Did you think you were
witnessing…uh, criminal behavior?”

“Let’s see. A man carrying
super-expensive luggage dressed as a trailer trash woman? Nah.” When Alex
gaped, Cord added, “Hey, who am I to be judgmental? I’m on a fucking Greyhound
bus too, for God’s sake.”

For the first time in his life,
Alex was at a loss for words.

“Relax, man. What you do is your
business. If you want to tell me the story, fine. If not, well, that’s okay
too.”

Alex felt relieved, and more than a
little ashamed for his earlier suspicions. “You’re an awfully trusting soul.”

“Something else I learned at the
Academy. I’m a pretty good judge of character. Not always but usually. When I
guessed you were a rich kid running away, the look on your face told me
plenty.”

“I guess there’s no point in
denying it.”

“Nope.”

Both looked up as the driver
bawled, “Tallahassee, folks. This
is Tallahassee. You have forty-five
minutes for dinner. Tallahassee!”

“Wanna hear the gory details over
dinner?” Alex remembered Cord was broke. “My treat.”

“You trying to bribe me?”

“Sort of,” Alex said. “Although I
assure you I haven’t committed a crime.”

“Just one,” Cord said as the bus
turned into the terminal parking lot and lurched to a stop with a loud sneezing
of air brakes.

“What’s that?”

“That tacky drag you were wearing
last night. Babe, you’re lucky you didn’t get nailed by the fashion police.”

Alex considered that loaded
sentence. Straight men didn’t use words like “tacky drag” or talk about the
fashion police and they sure didn’t each other “babe.”

Alex decided to bite the bullet.
“May I ask you something?”

“Hmmm. ‘May’ and not ‘can’?
Somebody’s gone to the right schools.”

 
Alex ignored the jibe. “Well?”

“Shoot.”

Alex took a deep breath. “Are you a
friend of Dorothy’s?”
       

Cord let out a whoop, but no one
paid attention in the chaos of people scrambling off the bus, eager to grab a
quick bite before the long haul to Jacksonville.
“Man, I haven’t heard that old chestnut in years. I didn’t think Gen X-ers knew
what it meant.”

“Just because I’m in my twenties
doesn’t mean I’m a Gen-Xer,” Alex declared. “So I guess the answer is yes.”

Cord leaned close. “In keeping with
the Oz theme, let’s just say I’m about as straight as the yellow brick road.”
He chuckled and moved into the aisle, motioning for Alex to step in front.
“C’mon. Let’s eat.”

They were halfway down the aisle
when he grabbed Alex’s shoulder. “You gonna leave your bag onboard?”

“Why not? Everybody else is.”

“Man, I hope you got a big bank
account because you sure got short-changed in the brains department.” He leaned
close again. “Everybody else doesn’t have a shitload of expensive watches in
their bag. Now grab it and come on.”

Alex’s feelings were hurt, but he
knew Cord was right as he slung the bag over his shoulder and followed the
crowd. He still couldn’t quite process what had happened, couldn’t believe that
a perfect stranger would befriend him after witnessing such peculiar behavior.
Oh, well, he thought. Jolie warned me this bus ride would be like falling down
the rabbit hole, and at least Cord is keeping my mind off Daddy.

Alex was further distracted,
happily so, as he trailed Cord into the bus station. He hadn’t seen the guy
from behind and had to admit he was quite a package from this angle. Cord’s broad
shoulders made his narrow hips seem even more so, and after enjoying the view,
Alex quickened his step and caught up.

“Sorry about the blonde moment back
there.”

“You just need to be more careful,”
Cord said. “You’re obviously out of your element.”

“Not by choice, I assure you.”

“Tell me later,” Cord said, picking
up the pace. “They don’t give us much time to eat.”

Alex paused outside the restaurant.
“Order me a cheeseburger and fries, will you? I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the men’s room.”

“Why didn’t you go on the bus?”

“Can’t pee in those things,” Alex
confided. “They creep me out. Aw, don’t look at me like I’m a spoiled brat,
Cord. I’m a little pee shy, okay? We all have our peculiarities.”

“Just hurry up,” Cord grunted.

Cord found an empty table and idly
studied a television monitor in a far corner of the restaurant. He couldn’t
hear what the CNN newscaster was saying, but there was no mistaking the image
that popped up behind him. Or the title of his story.

“Holy shit!” Cord muttered, half
rising from his seat. Alex was midway across the terminal when Cord ambushed
him. “C’mon, man!”

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve
seen a ghost.”

“Yours, kiddo,” Cord hissed. “Now
keep walking. We’re getting back on the bus.”

“But I’m starving!”

“Just do it!”

The steely grip on his elbow gave
Alex little choice and in minutes they were back on the deserted bus. “Thank
God everybody’s stretching their legs,” Cord said. “You didn’t throw away that
wig and god awful drag did you?”

“It’s in my bag,” Alex replied,
more confused than ever.

“You’re about to experience your
first bus lavatory.” Cord gave him a shove. “Now get in there and put it back
on! And plenty of lipstick too.”

Alex jerked away, wondering why
Cord had freaked. “Not until you tell me why!”

“Because I just saw your face on
CNN!”
 

Alex’s jaw dropped as realization
sank in. “What—?”

“And that mop of blonde curls will
be a fucking magnet for fortune hunters. Now scoot!”

Shock and fear propelled Alex down
the aisle and into the lavatory. No doubt his father had pulled strings and
expanded his search. Sumner Randolph had direct connections to some of the most
powerful men in industry, communication and politics. Alex once heard him
talking to the Vice President of the United
States, an experience he found both humbling
and scary. Alex was no authority on his father’s wheeling and dealing, but he
knew the man owed and was owed plenty of expensive favors. This gave him a
terrifying amount of clout, extending his greedy reach into the most distant,
unlikeliest of places.

Even, Alex thought grimly, the Tallahassee
bus station!

“Damn!”

The confines of the bus lavatory
forced Alex into a contortionist’s moves as he stripped and struggled into the
Capri pants and sweatshirt. Worst were securing the sandals and wig, but he
finally managed and emerged to find the bus filling up again. His quick-change
act had taken a lot longer than he thought.

“C’mon,” he whispered, crawling
over Cord and settling into the window seat. “Give me some details.”

Cord leaned close. “I
couldn’t hear anything but the words ‘kidnapped’ and ‘$10,000 Reward’ were
right above your curly head. I figured if I recognized your face from thirty
feet, somebody else could do the same thing and turn you in.”

Alex slid lower in the seat and
tugged more synthetic tendrils over his face. “How come you didn’t?”

“I might,” Cord said. When he saw
Alex’s face turn ashen, he said, “I’m just kidding, man. That wouldn’t even pay
off my creditors!”

“How…how do I know that?”

“You don’t,” Cord snapped. “Now
stop with the damn questions and give me some answers, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So you
are
a rich kid on
the lam.” Alex nodded. “Do you know who’s offering the reward?”
 

“My father,” Alex muttered,
relieved when the driver revved the engine and the bus careened out of the
parking lot.

“He’s sure as hell determined to
find you.”

“Desperate to control my life you
mean.” Alex grunted. Disgust gave way to anger, then loathing. “Running away is
the only way stop him.”

“He obviously cares about
you.”
   

“Yeah? Well, he’s got some damned
weird ways of showing it.” It took Alex a few miles of silence to realize Cord
had revealed something of himself. He remembered the guy’s father was taking
him in and giving him a job. “You and your father must be very close.”

“Get real,” Cord grunted. “I’ll
hate the sonovabitch until the day I die.”

“Then why are you going to stay
with him?”

“I already told you, Alex. I’ve got
no choice. I’m flat broke and I’ve got no prospects. Personal trainers are a
luxury, not a necessity, and in today’s greedy Bush economy—”

“But there must be other ways to
earn a living.”

“Believe me, I’ve thought of
everything and came up with zip.” He slid lower in the seat. “Every mile
disappearing between me and my old man makes me hate my life even more.”

“Jesus, Cord. What did he do to
you?”

“It’s what he did to all of us,”
Cord replied, absently touching the scar on his cheek. “I probably should have killed him.”

The ugly admission iced Alex’s
heart. The man beside him suddenly radiated danger but intrigued him at the
same time.

“You want to talk about it?”

Cord muttered something
unintelligible. Then, “How much time you got?”

Alex glanced at his watch, then
quickly tugged a sleeve over the gleaming Rolex he’d forgotten to remove when
he changed clothes. “Almost four hours to Jacksonville.”

“It’s a start.”

15

Daddy Dearest Revisited
  

For the next 163 miles, Alex hung
on every word of a story that was alternately heroic and horrifying. Cord’s
childhood was spent on a small Alabama
farm, and as long as he could remember, he, his younger brother Darcy and their
mother had been punished for no other crime than keeping company with Glenn
Foster. Cord and Darcy grew up believing it was the lot of every child to be
beaten or berated for the pettiest of matters so they never questioned their
father’s actions.

“I’ve been to lots of support
groups,” Cord confessed, “and that kind of behavior is usually fueled by booze
or drugs or maybe the abuser is mentally unhinged. In my Dad’s case, the guy
was nothing but a born bully, a bad-to-the bone sonovabitch who took pleasure
in tormenting those he should have loved most.”

“Jesus,” Alex breathed.

This was difficult for Alex to
process because it was the sort of thing that happened to “other people,” those
poor, tortured souls exposed daily on talk shows and television newscasts.
Granted his own father was manipulative and a bonafide control freak, but
Randolph Sumner had never laid a hand on his wife or only child. As Alex was
about to discover, however, abuse assumed more insidious guises than he
realized.

“The worst thing,” Cord continued,
“was that it was so damned unexpected. Dad was like a volcano waiting to erupt. He could simmer for days at
a time and then explode without warning. Once we were eating dinner in silence
and focused strictly on our plates because that’s how Dad wanted it. I felt
something in my gut and risked a glance in his direction, and when I saw him
glaring at Darcy, I braced myself.”

“For what?”

“When Dad stared at you, it meant
trouble, plain and simple. No one ever knew what was inside his head, what
prompted him to attack suddenly, like a wild animal. That particular time he
leapt across the table, sending food and dishes flying everywhere as he lunged
for Darcy’s throat. My brother toppled over backwards with Dad on top, beating
the daylights out of him.”

“But why?”

Cord’s terse response was chilling.
“No reason.”

Alex swallowed hard. “Your mother
didn’t do anything?”

Cord’s smile was heart-breaking.
“What could she do? Dad was a powerful guy, and she had endured so many years
of abuse she was only the shell of a human being. She was worn down to nothing,
with no strength or will to protect her children. If she had said anything she
would’ve just gotten a worse beating. Those were the rules, plain and simple.”

“I can’t imagine something like
that.”

Cord nodded. “I appreciate your
honesty, Alex. Most people just nod their heads and say ‘that’s terrible’ or
'I understand' when they don’t have a fucking clue.” He rubbed his cheek.

“Did your father give you that
scar?”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing compared to
the scars inside.”

Alex's sympathy swelled. “Maybe you
shouldn’t talk about it.”

Cord looked up as someone lurched
down the aisle and knocked his elbow from the armrest. He whirled, then caught
himself, but not before Alex saw rage flare in his eyes. He settled back and
folded arms cross his chest.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve
learned anger management. It’s all part of breaking the cycle, of letting go of
the hatred and rage my father instilled in me. Believe it or not, I had to
learn it wasn’t okay to hit someone else. Since that’s how I’d been raised, I
naturally assumed it was the norm.”

Alex thought Cord had forgotten
about the scar. He hadn’t.

“One summer night, Dad pulled one
of his surprise attacks on Mom. To this day, I’m not sure why I fought back but
somehow I got on his shoulders, kicking like crazy and beating him with my
fists. I screamed for him to get off my mother, and next thing I knew I was
flying across the room. My face hit a picture hanging on the wall. The glass
broke and cut my cheek open.”

The painful memory made the scar
turn red.

“I don’t remember going to the
doctor but somehow I got stitched up.”

“Surely the doctor asked what
happened.”

Cord shrugged. “We lived on a farm.
Accidents are a daily hazard. I’m sure Dad made up some crap, and that was the
end of it until I started first grade that fall. You know how kids are. They
all asked about the scar.”

Alex shuddered at the thought of a
grown man hurling a six-year-old against a wall. “What did you say?”

“I don’t remember. Some fanciful
lie I suppose. What else could I do? Tell them my old man was beating me and my
brother and my mom? Dad knew just what he was doing. He had us so terrified, so intimidated that we didn’t dare open our
mouths.”

“Sweet Jesus. What a way to live.”
Alex reflected on his own father-son relationship and what Jolie had called a
“benevolent reign of terror.” It paled beside Cord’s ongoing horror stories.

“It’s a lot more common than you
know,” Cord muttered. “Anyway, things changed when I hit puberty. I shot up
like a beanpole and was suddenly as tall as my father. He still outweighed me
by a good forty pounds, but that changed too once I joined the wrestling team.
By my sophomore year I was solid muscle, and, man did I love the new feeling of
power. Pretty soon Dad noticed the difference and started leaving me alone. He
ignored Darcy too once he bulked out. We thought it was all over, but of course
we were wrong.”
 

Alex groaned inside. He wasn’t sure
he wanted to hear the rest, but reminded himself he had asked. In any case,
Cord didn’t seem about to stop.

“The summer after I graduated high
school, Darcy and I went to visit our grandparents in Birmingham.
When we came home, Dad was out in the fields somewhere, and Mom was in bed. He
had beaten her real bad, just this side of needing medical attention. That
bastard really knew what he was doing, just when to quit, you know?”

“Christ,” Alex muttered.

“Darcy and I tore across the fields
and caught Dad just as he was climbing off the tractor. I butted him in the
stomach to take him down, with my brother right behind me.”

If Alex hadn’t known Cord was on
the way to see his father he would’ve asked, with good reason, if the Foster
brothers had killed the man. He swallowed and found his mouth was almost
painfully dry. A growling stomach reminded him they had missed supper.

“Did you and Darcy—?”

We showed him the same lack of
mercy he had shown us as children.”

Alex didn’t press for details.
“Were…criminal charges filed?”

Cord gave him a lopsided grin.
“Against Dad? Or Darcy and me?”

Alex held up his hands. “Either one
I guess.”

“Nope. After telling Mom good-bye,
Darcy and I got the hell out of Dodge. There was no reason to stay behind.”

“Is your Mom…is she still—?”

“Alive? No.” Cord’s mood darkened
further. “We begged her to leave with us, but like a lot of battered women, she
lived in such denial and shame she refused. She even told us if we forced her
she’d find a way to come back. She died about a year later, emotionally and
spiritually wrecked. Dad killed her as surely as if he’d put a bullet in her
brain.”

“God, that’s horrible.”

“You think so?” Cord attempt at
humor was strained. “Man, that’s just the G-rated version.”
 

“After all that’s happened,” Alex
ventured, “why would you want to see him again?”

“You don’t understand abusive
relationships,” Cord replied.
 
He paused
and reconsidered. “Or maybe you do. I mean, what your own father does is a form
of abuse, and emotional beatings are often worse than the physical ones. As I
said, the cycle is very hard to break, and underneath it all the man is still
my father. I know there’s a shitload of denial in that statement, but I can’t
help it.”

“How do you feel toward him now?”
Alex asked slowly. “Emotionally I mean.”

Cord coughed, cleared his throat
and faced Alex squarely. “He’s seventy-one now but tells me he’s still fit.
There’s a reason he made a point of telling me that. Like he’s inviting me to a
final showdown. A sort of winner-take-all proposition.”

An icy dart tingled in the small of
Alex’s back. What do you mean?”

“It’s a no-brainer.” Cord yawned
and stretched, muscles rippling. "If he lays a hand on me, I’ll probably
kill him.”