So, That Got Weird

by Amelia Kingston

  My palms are sweating and I’m desperately trying not to seem nefarious as I slip into the first bedroom on the left. It is a mild disaster. It smells like a used gym towel and dirty clothes are covering about three-quarters of the floor. I do my best to step over them, but give up when I have to choose between stepping on a sweatshirt and trying to jump the five feet to the next open spot. I search the room, looking for anything that might have someone’s name on it. There’s a backpack on the ground by the desk and I dive for it. Pulling out an old essay, I read the name. Andrew Edwards. Damn. Wrong room.

  I crack the door and peek out into the hallway. The coast is clear, so I slip out. Nerd ninja powers, activate. I move on to the next room. The door is locked. This plan isn’t working out so well. I move on to the third door and am relieved when the latch opens. I shut the door behind me and lean against it. I don’t know how James Bond does it. My hands are shaking from the adrenaline at this point. I close my eyes and take a long, ragged breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. Breathe, Elizabeth. Just breathe.

  A pungent scent burns my nostrils. It smells like a can of body spray exploded in here. I cough, covering my nose and mouth with my hand as I choke on the faux manly smell. Yep, this has got to be Monte’s room. It reeks of douchebag. I make my way over to the desk where his laptop is charging and flip through the textbooks and papers littered there. Nothing. I search the bag on the ground. Nothing.

  In a panic, I text Jackie.

  Me: There’s nothing here!!!! I’m screwed.

  DominaTrix: Take a deep breath and keep looking…desk drawer? Check for Post-its.

  A deep breath is not possible in this cologne fog, but I keep going. I search his desk drawers. Still nothing. Desperate, I search his nightstand. Only a half-empty bottle of lotion and a box of condoms. Trojan Extended Pleasure. Guess little Monte’s got a hair trigger. Gag.

  I’ve searched every nook and cranny in this room and there’s no password. I’m typing out a defeated response to Jackie as frustrated tears fill my eyes. This isn’t over. There has to be something else I can do. Something more I can try. I stare down at Monte’s desk. I know the evidence I need is somewhere on this laptop.

  “Fuck it,” I say out loud to myself. My battle cry as I grab the laptop and dive head first into the world of petty crime.

  That’s when I see it. A bright yellow Post-it sitting right where the laptop was. I snap a quick photo and shoot it to Jackie with one word.

  Me: Jackpot!

  DominaTrix: Pu$$y_Slaya??? what a douchecanoe

  Me: Told you…his highness, king of the douchebags

  I laugh at myself, at the ridiculousness of this situation, as I carefully put the laptop back exactly where it was. I’m relieved and have a wide smile across my face. Already thinking about the next step in the plan to rescue Austin, I’m not careful enough when I leave Monte’s room. I didn’t notice someone standing at the end of the hallway, staring at me.

  “What are you doing, Elizabeth?” Austin growls.

  I jump about three feet in the air and let out a sharp yelp. Austin’s blue eyes are on fire as he scowls at me, one eyebrow raised in contempt. I press my hand to my chest and will my heartbeat to slow down. My mouth has turned into the Sahara. I try to swallow, but I can’t. I try to breathe, but it’s more of a pant. I haven’t seen him since the library. Since he shattered my heart into a million pieces. He’s even more beautiful than he is in my daydreams.

  Of all the people to catch me coming out of Monte’s room, it has to be Austin? Why, God? Just why? What the hell did I ever do to you?

  “I…uh…I was…looking for…uh…the bathroom?”

  Smooth, Elizabeth. Real smooth. At least I didn’t tell him I was gassy.

  Austin shakes his head, crosses his arms, and says, “Liar. Try again.”

  His glare is molten on my skin, searing into me. I can’t stop my gaze from roaming over his body. He’s wearing a long-sleeved black Henley pushed up to his elbows, dark jeans and black boots. He hasn’t shaved recently and his jaw is covered in hair a shade darker than his golden locks. He makes devil-may-care disheveled sexy as hell. He’s dangerous and alluring. Of course he has to look amazing.

  Lying to him didn’t work, so I try the truth. “I needed something.”

  “From Monte?” He takes a long pull of his beer, unfazed.

  I tug at the hem of my shirt and bite my lip, desperate not to cower under his scrutiny. “Yes.”

  Austin steps toward me, encroaching on my personal space in the way he does. The scent of his sweet and spicy cologne fills my senses, along with the new smell of alcohol. He hides it well, but he’s drunk. Usually that’s a complete turn-off, but Austin is different. I’ll never not want him. The heat from his body makes my skin tingle. My heart aches for him. I want to touch him. I’d give anything to have him hold me again.

  He snarls, “I thought you were smarter than that.” His contempt slices through me.

  Tears sting my eyes. I stand as tall as I can, pull my shoulders back and snap at him. “What do you care?”

  Austin shrugs. “I don’t.” He brushes past me into the bathroom, slamming the door.

  I Forrest Gump my way out of the party, not stopping for anything until I’ve put a safe distance between me and Austin Jacobs.

  * * * *

  I go through my masterplan checklist. It’s been a long week. But, with a bit of help from Jackie and Jessie, everything is set for Austin’s hearing tomorrow. All I need Austin to do is show up and he’ll have his life back. Vindication. Picturing his face, the relief and excitement, makes me smile. I want him to have everything he wants, even if that doesn’t include me.

  Three loud knocks on my door startle me out of my daydream. I wrap my sweater around me tighter and glance at the time on my computer. Quarter past ten on a Thursday. Three more harsh knocks echo in the apartment. I creep over to the door, trying not to make a sound. I check the peephole and find my father standing there, seething.

  “Father?” I ask, not trusting my eyes even after I’ve opened the door. I rub them vigorously, but my father is still standing in my foyer, more enraged than I’ve ever seen him. “What are you doing here?”

  He holds up a piece of paper and waves it at me. “I am here so you can explain yourself.”

  I take the paper from him and he paces anxiously. I spend a few minutes examining it while he fumes at my side. “This is an invoice from Mr. Phillips.”

  He nods and points to the description of services provided. “Care to explain this?”

  Despite his rancor, I stay calm and answer, “It was for legal fees.”

  “Not your legal fees.”

  “No. Not directly.”

  He snatches back the paper, whips off his glasses, and glares at me. I’ve never had his undivided attention before. If I’d known spending a few thousand dollars was the way to get it, I might’ve bought a sports car on my sixteenth birthday or a yacht on my eighteenth. I might’ve spent the money when his attention mattered to me. I couldn’t care less what he thinks now. I know what I did and I know why.

  “Was it for that Austin character?”

  “Yes,” I answer flatly. “What do you care? It’s my money, isn’t it?”

  “What do I care? I thought you were smarter than this.” He puts his palms on my shoulders, one of the most tender gestures he’s ever made, and I resent him for it. “It was bad enough when he was rude to your aunt at our Christmas party, but now you are paying his legal bills. What sort of trouble has he gotten you into?”

  I cross my arms and bite back a sigh. “It was a school hearing, not a criminal one. And not that you asked, but Austin is innocent.”

  “Beth, this man is not innocent. He is using you, trading on our good name and fleecing you for money.”

  He is condescending and obtuse, same as always. But it doesn’t make me cower or feel small. Something is different this time. I’m different. Now, it makes me angry.


  I chuckle at the irony. “You’ve never cared about me or what I do before. But now that it involves a little money or potential embarrassment, you want to play the concerned father?” He drops his hands to his sides and stares at me as if I’m speaking in tongues. “Sorry, but that ship sailed about a decade ago with my self-worth and idealism on board.”

  My father slips his glasses back on and tips his nose up in the air. “You may think I was not present for your childhood, but I assure you I care about your wellbeing more than this sycophant.”

  I take a sharp breath and calm myself down before I answer, “His name is Austin and he has never asked me for anything.”

  My father sighs. “Of course he would never outright ask. He is manipulating you to believe it was your idea. He is praying on your naivety for his own personal advantage.”

  I stand my ground. “He’s not manipulating me. Hell, he doesn’t even know I was the one who helped him. Mr. Phillips kept me anonymous.”

  “Beth, I am your father and I am not accustomed to—”

  “Father?” I interrupt him. Years of neglect final boil over in my veins. I lash out at him. “You’ve never been my father. You are a figurehead. A misanthrope.”

  “You will waste our entire family’s fortune and ruin our good name before that man will love you. What would your mother say?”

  There is venom in his words, but I don’t feel the sting he intends. Something inside me snaps at the mention of my mother, the one I tried in vain to make love me.

  “Who cares! She was a selfish woman who made me think I wasn’t worthy of love,” I shout at my father for the first time in my life. My hands shake as rage fills my heart. I am done being treated like a child. Done being patted on the head and patronized. I point an accusatory finger at him and add, “And you let her. Because you were either too busy to notice or too heartless to care.”

  He gasps and stumbles back a few steps. He recovers quickly, straightening his jacket and standing tall. But I don’t let him mount a defense. I press forward, unshackling myself from the illusion that he’ll ever be the father I deserve.

  “For once in my life, you are going to listen to me. Austin broke my heart. But I helped him get justice anyway because he’s a decent human being. And because I love him, whether he loves me back or not. That’s how love works. It doesn’t matter if someone deserves it. It’s not conditional. Love is not a currency. Mother belittled me my entire childhood and I loved her anyway. You’re a foolish old man who ignored me my entire life—” I stare up at him and my voice cracks with emotion. “And I love you anyway.”

  “Elizabeth—” He says my name gently, the word itself an apology.

  I’m not ready to forgive him. “But if you think I’m going to waste one more second of my life trying to be what mother wanted or what you think I should be, you are sorely mistaken. I’m not perfect, but I’m your daughter. The only one you’ll ever have. I’m not going to change. You can love me as I am, or you can fuck off. At this point, I really don’t care.”

  “I only want what is best for you. You were not raised to know how treacherous the world can be.”

  I shake my head, exasperated. He isn’t listening to me. “I know exactly how disappointing people can be. I think it’s time for you to leave.”

  My father doesn’t fight me for the last word. He turns tail and leaves in a huff. I hear the door close and I collapse on the floor in a pile of mush. I’ve used every inch of backbone I have and maybe even some I don’t. I feel empowered and a little sad. I’ve irrevocably broken my relationship with my father. Maybe it’s always been broken. I hope someday it can heal.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Austin

  I sink down into Devin’s couch. He’s got a giant smile on his face, but I’m in shock.

  “This attorney took care of everything?” Devin asks, handing me a beer.

  “Mr. Phillips. Yeah. Looks that way.” I take a long sip, gulping down the cold alcohol. “He called me out of the blue on Monday. Said he heard about my case and wanted to provide his services pro bono. He got his hands on evidence, emails or some shit, showing Monte paid off one of the lab techs to falsify my results. I guess he’s been paying the guy all year to cover up his own results too.”

  I laugh at the memory of Monte being kicked off the team and out of the house. Tampering with a drug test is apparently worse than failing the damn thing in the first place. Drew invited me over to watch him pack up his shit. Half the team was there, giving me apologies and bullshit excuses about how they knew all along I was innocent. Even Coach called to apologize. Fuck all of them. They’re full of shit. Not a damn one of them was there when I was in the gutter. None of them would lose any sleep if that’s where I ended up tomorrow.

  “You going to be able to finish your degree now?”

  I nod. “Scholarship’s back and that attorney even got the school to cough up extra cash for me to get a place of my own.” I stick out my bottom lip in a mock pout. “For all my pain and suffering.”

  Devin shakes his head in disbelief. “Lucky little shit…”

  “Better to be lucky than good.” I clink my beer with his. “Can I crash here until I find my own place?”

  “Anytime, man,” he answers with a satisfied nod. He sips his beer and hides a smile.

  His door is always open if I want it. I know it was killing him to watch me spiral, sleeping in my fucking truck and drunk off my ass. But we both know we can only help someone who wants to be helped. And I sure as fuck didn’t. Even if he’d offered, I would’ve shut him down. I needed to be alone, wallowing in the gutter. To lose everything.

  It wasn’t until I saw Elizabeth coming out of Monte’s room that I let myself feel anything other than self-pity. Before that, I’d resigned myself to the shit life I knew I was meant for. Hello minimum wage. Goodbye self-respect. Long hours at a shit job, living in a trailer park, barely scraping by until I die. But the idea of someone like Elizabeth ending up with that worthless piece of shit Monte made me want to burn the world down. It lit a fire under my ass.

  She deserves better. I’m not good enough to be her forever, but Montgomery isn’t even worthy of her right now. When I sobered up the next morning, I took my laptop to the library and used the free Wi-Fi to log into Rule Them All. My country was destroyed and I had a fair amount of hate mail, almost all it from Jackie. Nothing from Elizabeth. She didn’t care enough to tell me to go fuck myself.

  I created a new account, CuratorofLostSouls. I told myself I only wanted to know she was doing okay, to keep her away from assholes who didn’t deserve her. But I don’t need to spend every waking hour playing to do that. My heart rate picks up each time I log on, waiting to see if Elizabeth is online. I close my eyes and picture those deep brown eyes of hers. I remember how soft her skin is. The shape of her lips. The taste of her. I’m desperate to touch her again, but I know I never will. I’ll settle for just hearing her sweet voice.

  * * * *

  “That fucking game is worse than the damn drinking,” Devin grunts at me after emerging from his bedroom.

  Maybe he’s right. I was up all night again. I don’t give a shit about the game, but the hours of bullshit are worth it for the few minutes I get to see Elizabeth’s beautiful face in the group video chat. Most of the time it’s Jackie barking out orders, but when Elizabeth speaks, it’s like she’s sitting right beside me. She’s with me. I don’t talk to her. She’ll never see me. I just listen.

  “Seriously, do we need to have a gamer intervention?” Devin calls from the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot. I haven’t told him the game is about Elizabeth.

  “Nah. I’m caught up in some stuff right now. It won’t last much longer. “

  Last night was huge. Elizabeth finally got her country back. Law of Superiority is far from gone, but they’re crippled for now. I’ve joined forces with Elizabeth’s league, The Federation, to help her get back what she lost because of me. What she really wants. The only thing I c
an give her.

  I’m about to log off and take a nap when my screen lights up with a new message.

  DominaTrix: I know who you are.

  Fuck. It’s Jackie. I stare at the screen, wondering how the fuck she found out and what the hell I’m supposed to write back.

  DominaTrix: Leave her alone, Austin. You’ve done enough.

  CuratorofLostSouls: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  I choose to go with denial.

  DominaTrix: Prove it.

  My screen lights up with a video chat request. Fuck. So much for denial. I plug in my headphones and accept the request, knowing I’m about to get flame sprayed by Elizabeth’s best friend.

  “How’s it going, Jackie?” I ask nonchalantly.

  “Die in a fire, shithead,” she jeers with a sweetly evil smile. “Are you going to leave my best friend alone, or do I have to come cut your balls off?” Her voice is unnervingly charming.

  “I’m not doing—”

  “The fuck you’re not. I see you, scheming, manipulating with your little band of dickwads.”

  “I’m just helping her out, Jackie.”

  “Thanks for that. She’s got her country back, now you can fuck right the fuck off.”

  I’m used to her brutal honesty after the hours of gaming, but knowing she could take away the only part of Elizabeth I have left makes me cringe. I can’t lose this.

  “You’re done fucking with her head, Man Meat.”

  My heart stops. “Does she know?”

  “That you’re the one helping her? No, not yet. And not ever if I have anything to say about it. That’s why you need to back the fuck off. What do you think you’re playing at anyway?”

  “Nothing. It’s not a big deal,” I lie.

  “It is. To her it is. You know she loves you, you piece of shit. Even though it’s killing her.”