by Hart, Rebel
I stood there with my back to her, giving her privacy but not leaving her alone. And as I listened to her sounds, I resigned myself to the plan. First, I needed to call my bank. Ask them questions about my trust fund and its contingencies. If I had any access to that money, I needed to transfer it into an account my father couldn’t touch. Or see. Or dip into, if he had to. And if I didn’t have control of it, I needed to start stockpiling things from around this house. Selling things off, right out from under my father’s nose. I mean, if he wasn’t going to come home, how the hell would he know I was selling his shit?
I could put the money into an account he couldn’t touch. And since my father didn’t make it a habit of keeping receipts, there was no way for him to prove this stuff wasn’t my stuff to sell anyway.
I didn't know. That required more research from a legal perspective.
I could call that lawyer and ask.
I felt my stepmother’s hand touch down between my shoulder blades. She pushed me softly, moving me out of the way. I turned around, watching as she wiped her mouth off with a washcloth. She tossed it into the sink. “We’ll figure this out,” she said.
And—just like I’d questioned earlier—I had no idea who she was really talking to.
10
Raelynn
The school day crept by slowly. As I sat in the back of my morning classes, I got caught up on my homework. I worked so quickly that I finished a week’s worth of work. Which meant no homework this weekend.
Which meant a weekend of sitting around and feeling sorry for myself.
Every time I checked my phone, I had a text message from my mother. Messages I deleted without even opening. Hell, she even called me a couple of times. And I thanked my fucking stars my phone was on silent. I had half a mind to block her. However, I settled on turning off my phone instead. While I was out to lunch.
With Michael and Allison.
“This is going to be great!”
I panted. “Keep running. If we’re caught, we’ll get in serious trouble.”
Michael unlocked his SUV. “Come on, Allison. It’s time for your first-ever lunch ditch.”
She hopped into the front seat. “I feel so alive!”
I shook my head as a small smile crossed my cheeks. A small one. But one that helped prove I might come out of this all right after all. I’d gotten Michael’s text about skipping out on lunch today just before I turned off my phone. And I was glad I got it. He cranked up his car as Allison giggled with delight. He sped out of that parking lot and we headed straight for the sandwich shop. Their tomato bisque was calling my name. Complete with their five-cheese grilled cheese and some homemade barbecue chips to go along with it.
Then Allison opened up the can of worms again.
“You feeling better from this morning?”
Michael tossed her a look before shaking his head.
I sighed. “I’m just… tired of him. I’m tired of D.J. always being around. Always trying to act like my father when I clearly see what he does to my mother.”
Michael settled into his chair. “Does he know you recognize this?”
I nodded. “Yep. I even promised him the next time my mother came home busted up, I’d be calling the police. I reminded him of that promise this morning.”
Allison shook her head. “I can’t imagine being in a relationship like that.”
“I’ve been telling my mom for years that she needs help. That she needs to get her life together and stop running around with men like this. And for a while, she was doing that. Applying for jobs. Trying to find a life of her own. I don’t know what happened, though.”
Michael snickered. “D.J. happened. As much as it sucks, your mother’s had a hard life. She just wants things to be easy. And in her mind, a bit of physical pain is probably better than the heartache that comes with being alone, working a dead end job and struggling to make ends meet.”
I paused. “Okay, Dr. Phil. Let’s slow down there a bit.”
Allison smiled. “Have you ever thought about doing psychology?”
He shrugged. “I may or may not like my A.P. Psychology class a little more than I figured I would.”
Allison took his hand. “Well, anyway, the guy’s a loser. Don’t worry about him. One of these days, your mom’s going to look at herself in the mirror and realize what we already know.”
I rolled my eyes. “That D.J.’s a piece of shit that doesn’t deserve to walk the earth?”
She snickered. “Yes, and that she deserves better.”
I licked my lips. “I hope it’s soon, then. Because I’m not sure how much more of it I can stand.”
We pulled up to the sandwich shop and hopped out. It was busy, and I grew worried that we might not make it through our lunch before we had to go. By the time we got in line, placed our orders, and got our food, we had to get back in the car. Which meant eating on the go while trying not to spill shit on Michael’s leather seats.
“Just be careful. I’ll drive slow.”
“Did you spill something? Hurry, get it with this.”
“Speed bump. Hold your food up.”
I swear, no one babied their car more than Michael babied this damn vehicle of his.
“Is there a long way around we can take? I won’t be able to finish this with the regular route. And I’m starving.”
Michael smiled at Allison. “Anything for you. I’ll drive us through some neighborhoods.”
And of course, the neighborhood with the easiest streets to drive was Clint’s.
I gazed out the window as I sipped my soup. Instead of eating it with a spoon, I’d stuck a straw in it. My eyes lingered out the window while Michael and Allison talked with one another. And every once in a while, their laughter pierced the foggy haze of my mind. I was happy for them. I really was. But sometimes, I wanted to slap them both. Could they just put that shit on hold for one second? I mean, once we got back to school, it was game on.
Did I really have to be in the car for it, though?
I heard the smacking of their lips as they kissed. I caught a glimpse of Allison feeding a bite of food to Michael. I stared hard out the window, trying my best not to get angry or shut down. Trying my best not to seem like a bitch.
It wasn’t easy, though. And it gave me a new respect for how they both felt when I first started dating Clint.
The closer we got to his house, the more silent they became. Until not a sound was made in Michael’s car. I finished up my soup and tossed it into the paper bag. I reached for my grilled cheese and unwrapped it, holding my drink still with my thighs. But the second Allison gasped, I whipped my head up. And when Michael cursed to himself, my eyes darted around.
Then I spotted it.
The sign hanging off their mailbox.
“‘For Sale’?” I breathed.
What the fuck?
Allison drew in a short breath. “You think that’s why he ended things?”
Michael shushed her. “Leave it alone.”
“I mean, it’s right there. Plain as day. Might give Rae some closure.”
“That’s not yours to determine.”
I shook my head. “He would’ve told me about something like this.”
Michael paused. “I mean, are you sure? Maybe he just didn’t get around to telling you about it? Or didn’t know how you’d react? Or something?”
“Drop me off.”
Allison whipped around in her seat. “Say what now?”
“Drop me off. Now.”
Michael shook his head. “Can’t do that, Rae. We’re going to be late for school if I have to wait for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to wait. I asked you to stop your fucking car.”
Allison reached for me. “Just get through the school day. We can come back after classes are done.”
I leveled my eyes with her. “Let me out of this goddamn car, or I’m pouring my soda out on the leather seats.”
Michael shook his head. “Fucking hell, Rae.”
He came to a stop at the curb and I abandoned my food. I wasn't hungry anymore, anyway. I chugged the rest of my drink before I slipped out of the car, slamming the door behind me. Windows whirred down. I slid my purse over my shoulder. Allison handed me my backpack through the window as Michael stared at me with fire blazing in his eyes.
“Don’t you fail school because of him. You’ve worked too hard for all this.”
I scoffed. “Like it’s any better watching the two of you neck and make eyes at each other.”
Allison furrowed her brow. “Hey. What did we do?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. Get to school. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Michael groaned. “Rae, you can’t just—”
“Michael. Get back to school and leave me be.”
Allison sighed. “Good luck, Rae. Really.”
“Thanks.”
Michael was getting on my fucking nerves, and I needed him to leave. His hands slammed against the steering wheel before he pulled away, leaving Allison watching me with worry on her face. Her head fell out of the window and she craned her neck back, waving as they faded away. I watched them leave before turning back to face Clint’s house.
Please be home. Please be home. Please be home.
The chant seemed familiar as I drew in a deep breath. With my things slung over my shoulder, I resigned myself to missing my last few classes. The only thing that gave my solace was keeping up with my homework. I wasn’t sure how I’d fare come midterms. But I’d deal with that once it came around. Right now, I had bigger things to deal with. I needed answers. I deserved answers.
And I wasn’t leaving until I got them.
I started up the driveway, making my way to the porch. I stared at the front door and couldn't help but pause. Listening out for his father. With every step I took up to the front door, I remembered that encounter. Only two or three days ago, but it felt like an eternity. It took my breath away. I stood on the porch, unable to move. I saw the front door, but my arm didn’t move. I saw the doorbell, but my finger didn’t extend.
The whirlwind of life hit me all at once, pushing tears to my eyes.
I held my breath as the still-life images bombarded my mind. The first time Clint ever picked on me. How I’d yelled at him and he’d grinned at me. The cascade of effects that came after it all. How he’d call me out in the cafeteria. Make fun of my clothes. Of my house. Of my mother. How he called me names and laughed at me with his buddies.
He’s come such a long way.
I saw that night. Where he found me in the park. How angry I’d been that, of all people, he was the one that found me. I remembered how I vibrated with anger at the idea of him sitting next to me. Interjecting himself into my life like I wanted him there for some reason.
Then our first kiss.
That thing sent shivers through my body.
I closed my eyes and relived the first time we had sex. How magical it felt. How his hands felt against my skin. How waking up with him made me feel like a princess. Only, I couldn't stay. I thought about how he ravaged my thoughts. Occupied my mind after that moment. After understanding that he was like me. A boy lost in a world his parental figure had torn to shreds. Used and abused. And angry with the world.
He understands me.
I relived that night. Those boys. The chase. That crash. The ravine. It made me sick to my stomach to think about. And yet I couldn't stop it. It was as if the reel had been started up in a booth somewhere, designed to torture me. I blinked back tears and tried to move. But fear and anguish paralyzed me.
I feel helpless.
I saw Clint in the hospital. Hooked up to tubes. Filled with stitches and bruises. I wavered on my feet as I reminisced on his release. All those times we tried to do his homework, only for him to seduce me with his body. With his words. With his compliments and his eyes. How I wanted to be wrapped up in him again. How I wanted to be his again. How I wanted to tell him how much I loved him.
Does he love me, though?
Had someone asked me that question four days ago, my answer would be ‘yes.’ But now? I wasn’t sure. The reel spiraled me into silence. It held my voice captive. It choked off my tears and my ability to breathe. And it wasn’t until I fell forward that I snapped out of it, gasping for air as I snapped out of my trance and slammed my hands against his front door.
Just in time for the front door to rip itself open.
11
Clinton
“Howard, it’s me. You really need to call me back. I’ve got a lot of questions to ask you that I deserve answers to.”
“Howard, it’s Cecilia. I don’t know if you’ve blocked me or if you’re dodging me, but where in the world do you expect Clint and me to go? Are you leaving me? What is your son going to do about school?”
“Howard, damn it. You pick up this phone right now or I’m hiring a lawyer. I’m serious. This is ridiculous. You started that fight!”
“Howard, it’s me.”
“Howard.”
“Howard, pick up this damn phone!”
I sighed as I listened to Cecilia shriek her head off into the phone. She hung up and threw her cell phone across the room, damn near shattering it against the wall. I walked over to her and rubbed her back. She put her head in her hands and started sobbing, she was so angry. Or confused. Or scared.
Possibly, all three of them.
I knew she wanted answers to her questions. But I also knew my father would never give them to her. He didn’t operate that way. Once he set his mind on a mission, he saw it all the way through. She shouldn’t have threatened a lawyer, either. Because now, he’d go through with it and cut her off.
Like he’d apparently done to me.
While Cecilia had been blowing up his phone, I’d gotten on the phone with the bank. I mean, it took me a little while to figure out who the fuck managed my trust fund. A call to my regular bank led me to three other phone lines before they told me they had no idea. So I had to go poking around in my father’s study. I pulled out drawers and sifted through files. I came across all sorts of random documents with monetary numbers on them that made my head spin. And finally, I came across a couple of names that looked promising.
So I called them both.
The first one told me they didn’t manage funds like that. The second one told me I wasn’t privy to the information. Which meant I was on the right track. I pulled out all the fucking paperwork for that place. And while my father was shit at a lot of things, keeping a paper trail wasn’t one of them. He had records dating back to when he opened the damn account in the first place. I was able to trace that account from its inception all the way up to a few months ago.
When I had turned eighteen.
Cecilia sniffled. “What did the bank say?”
I sighed. “Not much.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “According to the paperwork, that account became mine the second I turned eighteen. But the man I spoke to said that until I was twenty-two, I couldn't have unfettered access to it.”
She turned around. “Has it always been that way?”
“Not from what I can tell. I went into Dad’s study and read through the agreement.”
“He’s not going to like that.”
“He’s currently smoking us out of our own home by controlling the only thing he’s got control over. I don’t give a shit what he likes.”
She paused. “Do you still have access to the money?”
“The man on the phone said I did. But I can’t transfer any more than five thousand at a time without Dad’s permission. So I initiated a transfer of $4,999.00 into my own bank account to see if I can actually get it to go through. And if I can, that opens up some doors.”
She shook her head. “How in the world did it all come to this?”
“The second Dad realized he couldn't use his money and influence to yank our chains any longer.”
“Can I admit something to you?”
“I’m scared, Clinton.”
I nodded. “I know you are. But we’ll find a way out of this, okay? Come the end of the day, I should see a pending deposit in my account. And if that money’s there in the morning, I’m calling that guy from the bank back and initiating transfers until Dad stops it.”
“Is this what’s going to happen now? Scrounging around for scraps?”
“With Dad, preparing for the worst is what you have to do. Let’s hope there’s a better outcome, but make a plan in case there isn’t. Okay?”
She sighed. “Yeah. All right.”
I knew my father would shut that money down. The second he caught wind of that transfer, he’d try to cancel it. I’d be lucky if I saw that money in my account in the morning. Cecilia went and retrieved her phone, poking away at the screen. And as she held it to her ear, I heaved a heavy sigh.
Before running down a plan in my mind.
I need to call that lawyer.
I didn’t know how much I was really privy to in this house. What could I sell without my father getting me into trouble over it? Could he claim I was stealing from him? Extorting him, somehow? Those were questions for a lawyer. But I didn’t know if I’d open another can of worms trying to ask those kinds of questions.
My eyes darted around the house. Everything expensive came into view all in one get-go. But if Dad was going to sell the house, then downsizing was reasonable. Right? I sell off his things, keep the money, and claim downsizing efforts in the process. I didn’t know. It didn’t make a lot of sense. I clocked the suede couches and the paintings on the walls. The sculptures standing on columns around the room. The projector television. All the fine china we had in a cupboard in the dining room. Legitimate silverware for days. Like it was plastic wear to us.