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Chapter Two
Marcie slides in the back of the family’s Mercedes E-320; this is a down size from the previous G-550 SUV. The Taylor family is financially struggling comparatively. Since Mr. Taylor’s two year layoff, the family’s million dollar income has been reduced to less than half. The Mercedes and hillside mansion have been sustained because of wise investments and Mr. Taylor’s need to keep up appearances. But the Taylor’s home is far from the host of bi-weekly served dinner parties, valet parking and employee Christmas gatherings. The French garden along the East side of the estate is overgrown with weeds. The front yard is only cut after threats of fines from the local village administration. Mrs. Taylor does her own laundry only once a week - two hours on Friday evening. If an article of clothing doesn’t make the weekly designated two hours consider it dirty another week. Marcie learned this the hard way after having to wear a soiled uniform shirt to school for the whole week. She was grateful that was her last week at her private school, but the public school scrutiny wasn’t any better. Mrs. Taylor has consigned all of her St. John clothing with the exception of a couple of show pieces, all of which can be interchanged and made into four – five different outfits. Her jewelry has been auctioned off along with her special ordered Jaguar XL. This was all done at the direction and insistence of Mr. Taylor, who used his corrupt connections with an auction house to give the appearance that the donations were for charity but he actually received an under the table kick back. This was all done to stay a float and keep the appearances that the great Calvin Taylor hasn’t hit rock bottom. However, the tomato soup and crackers for dinner tell another story. The empty rooms that once held exquisite antiques and original works of Van Gogh are all now shut off and never entered. However, the bar doesn’t seem to lack replenishing. Mr. Taylor finds himself at the bottom of a vodka bottle at least two to three times a week.
As Marcie shuts the door, her father’s booming voice bounces off the windows, “What the hell were the two of you doing?” Selma unintentionally began to stutter over her own words. Marcie thought that even though her mother was delayed in her response she would be safe since they were so close to church, surely her father wouldn’t risk being seen. Before Marcie could finish her thought, Calvin’s hand was on the passenger side of the car and back at his side all before the first stop light. The force of Calvin’s so called wave was so powerful; Selma Taylor’s face was plastered against the window with about a half dollar sized blood pool. “Look what you have done now!! You have smeared the window with your blood, clean it up, you imbecile. I don’t know why I stay with you, putting up with your nonsense! When I say we are to leave immediately after church, we are to leave immediately after church, no delays, do you hear me? Do you hear me Selma? Answer you stupid…” Selma answers as she holds back the tears, “I understand I was helping Marcie pick up our bibles she dropped.” Calvin’s voice rang with fury, “Oh please don’t blame Marcie for your inability to follow instructions, always passing the buck!” Marcie wasn’t surprised by her mother’s attempt to throw her under the bus, she almost didn’t blame her. She was just trying to relieve the attention from herself. But that same action was making Marcie bitter and angry inside. She desperately needed protection and love not more exposure to this self serving parenting.
Marcie slides in the back of the family’s Mercedes E-320; this is a down size from the previous G-550 SUV. The Taylor family is financially struggling comparatively. Since Mr. Taylor’s two year layoff, the family’s million dollar income has been reduced to less than half. The Mercedes and hillside mansion have been sustained because of wise investments and Mr. Taylor’s need to keep up appearances. But the Taylor’s home is far from the host of bi-weekly served dinner parties, valet parking and employee Christmas gatherings. The French garden along the East side of the estate is overgrown with weeds. The front yard is only cut after threats of fines from the local village administration. Mrs. Taylor does her own laundry only once a week - two hours on Friday evening. If an article of clothing doesn’t make the weekly designated two hours consider it dirty another week. Marcie learned this the hard way after having to wear a soiled uniform shirt to school for the whole week. She was grateful that was her last week at her private school, but the public school scrutiny wasn’t any better. Mrs. Taylor has consigned all of her St. John clothing with the exception of a couple of show pieces, all of which can be interchanged and made into four – five different outfits. Her jewelry has been auctioned off along with her special ordered Jaguar XL. This was all done at the direction and insistence of Mr. Taylor, who used his corrupt connections with an auction house to give the appearance that the donations were for charity but he actually received an under the table kick back. This was all done to stay a float and keep the appearances that the great Calvin Taylor hasn’t hit rock bottom. However, the tomato soup and crackers for dinner tell another story. The empty rooms that once held exquisite antiques and original works of Van Gogh are all now shut off and never entered. However, the bar doesn’t seem to lack replenishing. Mr. Taylor finds himself at the bottom of a vodka bottle at least two to three times a week.
As Marcie shuts the door, her father’s booming voice bounces off the windows, “What the hell were the two of you doing?” Selma unintentionally began to stutter over her own words. Marcie thought that even though her mother was delayed in her response she would be safe since they were so close to church, surely her father wouldn’t risk being seen. Before Marcie could finish her thought, Calvin’s hand was on the passenger side of the car and back at his side all before the first stop light. The force of Calvin’s so called wave was so powerful; Selma Taylor’s face was plastered against the window with about a half dollar sized blood pool. “Look what you have done now!! You have smeared the window with your blood, clean it up, you imbecile. I don’t know why I stay with you, putting up with your nonsense! When I say we are to leave immediately after church, we are to leave immediately after church, no delays, do you hear me? Do you hear me Selma? Answer you stupid…” Selma answers as she holds back the tears, “I understand I was helping Marcie pick up our bibles she dropped.” Calvin’s voice rang with fury, “Oh please don’t blame Marcie for your inability to follow instructions, always passing the buck!” Marcie wasn’t surprised by her mother’s attempt to throw her under the bus, she almost didn’t blame her. She was just trying to relieve the attention from herself. But that same action was making Marcie bitter and angry inside. She desperately needed protection and love not more exposure to this self serving parenting.
OMG This book is soooo good! If you haven't read it - GET IT QUICKLY! I am anxiously waiting for the sequel!!!!
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