by Emily Bowie
At this moment, I want to be nothing other than Sloan. He walks me out, tossing keys to her, forcing me to spend time with the one girl I want to hate the most. I refuse to look back at him. I can’t help but feel like he’s throwing me away.
*
Two weeks earlier
“How much is missing?” My fist slams down on the bar’s wooden surface, a sharp pain zapping through my bones.
“Just over a grand,” Russ informs me. McGrath Mansion is vacant; we’re the only two in here. The beer-splattered counter separates the two of us, as we’re having our meeting afterhours.
“Do we know who it was?” I ask through gritted teeth, trying to rein in my fury.
“We’re working on it, but there’s more.”
“Suit’s briefcase has been lighter.” Not only is someone stealing from me, but I’m also being ripped off too.
“That’s not all.” Of course, it isn’t. I can feel my tension headache beginning to form. “The drop off was dirty too.”
“Get someone on him. I want to know his every move, his every secret, what he holds dearest in life. I want to hold him in my palm and slowly squeeze the life out of him. I think it’s time for a reminder that no one fucks with me.”
“Your mom’s nurse also called.”
“For fuck’s sake, stop giving me all the bad news in sections. Out with it,” I holler, losing every bit of patience I have in this shitstorm that has started to brew in my life.
“She may not make it through the night.”
My ass falls onto the stool, wishing I was living someone else’s life right now. Between my mother and Kellie, they’re the only humanizing things about me. When I’m with them, I can still feel my old self, not this person I’ve been turning into.
“Go see your mother.” Russ sighs. “I’ll do what I can tonight, and we can meet again in the morning. There’s nothing you can do until we learn more.”
A rock sits in my gut, making it hard to move. The way Russ is looking at me shows he’s just as worried about my mother. Or maybe he’s worried how I’ll react after the fact. Like me, Russ lost his family at a young age. He knows all too well what this feels like.
Adrenaline swarms through my body, and I would love nothing more than to get into a fight. I visualize every person’s face who has gone against me, and I would love to do something about it right now to help channel my rage with a throw of a punch or to feel a hit rather than deal with the indescribable emotions that currently eat at me.
“Go see your mother.”
The expression on his face makes my legs stiffen as I slowly stand. My stool falls to the ground, its clatter welcomed to my ears. I dread what the morning will be like when it comes. This is the opposite of what I want to do. Seeing her like this would mean I have to accept she’s dying. Without her, I’m scared of how reckless I may become with no one holding me accountable. I’ll keep spiraling into the darkness, where I’ll find satisfaction in hurting people and enjoy being feared.
“Take my truck.”
Shaking my head, I pull my bike’s keys out. There’s nothing more exhilarating than seeing what my bike can do, even in the rain. It’s my one hope of burning off some of this adrenaline before I see her, before I have to say goodbye.
The night’s rain pounds on me. There’re reports of a hurricane brewing that could land here within five days. This is just the start of the system that’s starting to roll in.
The speed and vibrations of my bike remind me that I’m alive. At the corner before my mother’s house, I gun the throttle, the RPMs inching higher and higher. My body leans into the turn, my tires fighting to grip the wet road. I don’t let the throttle up, pressing it harder instead. The rain is hitting me in my face, making it impossible to see.
Visions of my mother play out in my head, memories I haven’t allowed myself to think of since she became sick.
I feel my bike jolt, its tires skidding as they start to hydroplane, before I feel the hard ground. My body is thrown off, sliding across the gravel much like a waterslide. When I stop, I feel grass under me. None of my leather is ripped somehow, and I’m disappointed.
I lie there like a starfish, catching my breath. Finally, I lift my head to see my bike on the edge of the road. Its tire looks all sorts of bent. Another thing to add to my pile. Turning my head, I’m not surprised to see I’m on my mother’s lawn. I could ride my bike in the dark and still find my way here.
Slowly, I pick myself up, leaving my bike as is.
I walk into my childhood home, and it already smells like the dead. I don’t mean a rotting corpse, but the smell old or sick people give off before they die. My mother isn’t old either. She’s just over fifty. She should have thirty or more years ahead of her.
I have to force each step as I walk farther in. A part of me believes that if I don’t accept this, it can’t happen.
Going to my mother’s room, she looks so frail. Her lips try to smile when she senses me, but her eyes don’t open. Taking a seat in the chair by her bed, I hold her cold hand. I can feel her trying to give me a squeeze, but she’s so weak.
“I got ya, Mom.” I bring her hand up to my lips. “I don’t want to see you in pain anymore. I’m a big boy. I can adapt. Plus, I won’t be alone. I have Kellie.” Her lips move; I think she wants to smile. I feel like I’m suffocating, my throat choked up. It takes a few tries for me to keep talking before the words are able to get past my throat. “She’s sweet and keeps me grounded. She reminds me of the stories you used to tell me about yourself and how you made dad a better person. She does that to me.”
I want to smile and be brave for her, yet my lips feel more flat than curved. The more I fight to put on a good face, the more rigid my body goes. It fights against me, as my instinct is to cry and grieve over my impending loss. I don’t want to live in a world without her. Feeling my fake smile slip, I remind myself this is harder on her than me. She always promised to be here for me, to be my person when I needed it. It’s all I can do to be the same person for her. She has no one else, and to show me this weakness is beyond devastating for her. I refuse to let go of her hand through the night.
Each hour, her skin feels slightly colder than before, no matter the number of blankets I give her. My beating heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest, to be replaced with one that doesn’t beat the same. It feels darker, colder, like a mechanical heart only there to keep me alive.
My mother is declared dead at 6:06 in the morning, with me and her nurse at her side. I never shed a tear. I stand as a sentinel, watching as two big men come into my house dressed in suits and they collect my mother’s body. I feel helpless, doing everything in my power not to allow my grief to overtake my body as I remember my father telling me to take care of Mom before he passed. I don’t know how to react; my emotions are everywhere. I feel it all—rage, aching, blackness, sorrow, and hatred all swirling around me, not allowing me to grasp onto one definite emotion.
“All the funeral arrangements have already been made,” her nurse informs me. I stand there blank-faced, nodding like a jackass. My mother didn’t want to put the extra burden on anyone but herself. I should have thought of stuff like that before this, but right now is the only time the thought flashed inside my mind.
She even picked out a date for her service.
CHAPTER 16
I watch as Kellie leaves with Sloan, hating myself for doing that. But this isn’t the right time for her and me to get into it. I wasn’t lying when I said I have a bunch of shit on my plate right now. I need to focus. But I promise myself I will do everything in my power to see her before she leaves. I can’t go another summer with no contact. She has become my anchor that keeps me in check.
My head rocks side to side as I roll my shoulders, trying to relax, already knowing that sending her away feels wrong. I’m stuck in a bad position, not wanting to show her the corrupt side of my world.
Russ, my top guy, is looking at me with what resembles pity
, and I hate it. I refuse to make time to mourn for my mother. I need to be in control, and right now, all I can control is my business.
“Tell me what you have,” I demand of him, denying anything else as of this moment.
“He has a wife who seems to like having naked naughty naps with her best friend. They’ve never been able to have children.”
“Any bastards?”
“No. They’re childless. Very corrupt, has his fingers in everything from hookers, drugs, dirty money….”
“Okay. No children, they’re both cheating scumbags, and they’ve run out of money. Sounds like we hooked a catch.” I shake my head. “What can I use against him?”
“He loves the thrill of blackmail and the power trip he gets from it. He’ll do anything to keep it.”
“We have to be missing something. Why would he need to launder money? Is he selling drugs? Illegal gambling?”
“I haven’t been able to find that yet. It’s only been a few days. I’m not saying it’s not there. It could be hidden.”
“Okay, we’ll keep playing nice until we know more,” I tell him.
As if our words conjured him, Suit strolls inside. A new shiny bodyguard and a younger guy walk behind him. He must be pissing off a lot of people if he’s stopped coming by himself. He has a stupid grin on his shit-eating face that I want to punch.
“Hi, boys.” He sets down the briefcase like normal. His tone is condescending, irritating me further.
I go behind the bar and toss my case onto the counter. Instead of doing what I said earlier, I open it up. I take out two stacks worth about two grand.
“You’ve been shorting me, but I want you to see that I’m not going to pull the same shit with you.”
His eyes narrow on me.
I shut the case loudly before sauntering over to him.
“I suggest placing that money back before you get too cocky.”
“I would recommend the same to you. Let’s cut the formalities.” I cross my arms over my chest with it puffed out. I could use a fight, and knowing I could beat this fucker to within an inch of his life warms my heart right now. “You haven’t been honoring our arrangement.”
He looks bored with this conversation and much like I’m a bug he wants to squish with his toe. I have issues with people taking advantage of me, thinking I’m below them. In fact, most would say I have issues with authority. One of the reasons I never finished high school.
“Listen, there are ten more guys who would scramble over your dead body to be in your position.”
I can’t help myself; I pull the gun resting in my back pocket, creating a domino effect. My men pull their guns, leading the bodyguard to aim his right at my temple.
“Are we really going to do this?”
He’s looking relaxed, perfectly at home, annoying me further. I should scare him. But he’s had that privileged power shoved so far up his ass for too long to remember he’s vulnerable.
I want to do nothing other than pull my trigger. He’s missing the fact that I’m not scared to die. It’s a part of my life I’ve had to deal with more times than I would like.
“I’m old school. Why don’t we drop the guns?” He shrugs off his jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt underneath.
For the first time, the kid who looks slightly younger than me steps up. “You going to let an old man kick your ass, or do you want to make it fair and fight me?”
“You want to take a round with me?” I scoff. I look to the suit, and he shrugs, happily allowing someone else to take his place.
“I’ll even take it easy on you,” the cocky fucker says to me, stepping in front.
I put down my gun for him, happy to take my frustrations out on a willing participant. I nod to my guys as they follow my lead, with the Suit’s people doing the same.
I can’t help but smile looking around us. I watch him get ready out the corner of my eye as I take my time. I don’t need a warmup. I’ve taken guys twice his size.
He comes at me, and I laugh at his attempt. What I overlooked was the brass rings on his other hand. My face whips around, and I hear the crack before I feel it. My jaw goes slack and I’m on the floor.
Fuck me.
No one steps in, knowing the code. I would look worse if they did. Slowly, I stand, getting my bearings back.
“I told you I would take it easy.”
Blood spits out of my mouth, and I refuse to allow the pain to enter my thoughts. For the first time, the sensation of anything is welcomed, even though it’s ignored.
We circle each other, my instincts kicking into overdrive. I step into him, my fist colliding with his gut, then I use my left to uppercut his jaw, hoping to do similar damage as he’s done to me. His head whooshes back, but before I can drive my knee into his face, he spins out of my hold.
Blood splatters the ground from the destruction the two of us have caused in a short amount of time. He has to be trained. I’ve never met someone so evenly matched with myself. He staggers slightly before we’re back to circling.
“That’s all you got?” he taunts me, making me snarl.
I don’t lose.
As I charge at him, he turns swiftly, making my body sway from the anticipation of ramming into him when all I feel is air. He takes this opportunity, putting me to the ground; my back feels the pinching of the peanut shells on the floor. He begins to laugh, thinking he pulled a fast one on me, as he offers punch after punch on my already swollen face.
I manage to kick him off me, jumping back to get a second of reprieve.
We go back and forth punching, kicking, circling. My breath feels ragged, my vision double. I use all my strength, hoping to get lucky enough to push his face into the ground.
His fists hit into my kidneys, and I falter, trying to block his shots, allowing him to get the upper hand. I’m doing a horrible job of kicking his ass. This punk is teaching me a lesson, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed, going by the silence that has fallen over the room.
Distracted by the thoughts in my head, no longer in the fight, I’m pinned down, and the Suit comes up to hold my head. He can snap my neck at any moment. Keeping my eyes open, I want him to watch me die. I want him to see my eyes for the rest of his days.
“Do we still have a problem?”
I can sense him hovering over me, but I can’t answer. I try, but my voice is unable to push through.
“You cause me trouble, I won’t be so kind.” With that, he lets my head slam back to the ground. I can’t see them leave. Most of my vision is blurry and red, no doubt from the blood seeping into my eyes.
I’ve learned my lesson; he should have too. Never leave unfinished business, and he just became mine. Next time, I won’t lose.
CHAPTER 17
Kiptyn never did show up before I left to go home for the summer. He left Sloan to drive me and stayed silent. I expected some sort of communication. But nothing.
Five days later, I’m forced to walk back through the gates of my family’s mansion. The perfect white house with large pillars, huge decks that surround the house on each level, making it look exquisite. Large windows with not even a speck of dirt make this look like the perfect house, like we have a perfect life.
“Your mother has been under some stress the last few wee—” my father starts as we walk in, but his sentence is never finished. My mother, who I can only assume looked perfect at eight o’clock this morning, is now slouched and unstable on her feet. She has a bottle of red wine up to her mouth, trying to catch the last drop.
“Rich, honey, we seem to be out of wine.” She dangles the bottle, showing us, just as she notices me.
“Kellie, darling, is school already over for the year?” Her lips are flat as she thinks this over. “Play the piano for Mommy.” She sways over to the grand piano, taking a seat on one of the over-plush couches.
“Do as she says, and everyone’s life will be easier,” my dad whispers in my ear, giving me a gentle shove in her direction. I’m
not sure which one of my parents is eviler. When one is playing a good parent, the other is like this.
I play for her until she closes her eyes and small snores start to come from her mouth.
Tiptoeing upstairs, I begin working on branding my image. I want to be able to go into the meeting and show them I’ve been working. Being at Easton All-Girls Prep, all internet is locked down. Just like our phones, there are no social media outlets of any kind. Computers are locked with only the basics of Word, Excel, and PowerPoint. Us girls are honestly cut off from the rest of the world there.
For the next week, I lock myself in my room and read every blog I can get my hands on for how-tos. And soon, I’ll finally get my chance. I can hardly control my excitement.
*
“Kellie,” my agent greets me, walking into the room where I’m playing the piano.
“Hi, Oliver.” I smile back, excited what news he may have for me.
He takes a seat beside me, playing along with me. “You’ve grown your talent,” he compliments.
My heart warms hearing this, making my smile brighter. “Thank you. I’ve been taking music classes at school, working on it. My dad mentioned the meeting we’re to have with the label was canceled.” I watch him for any reaction. I half suspect the whole thing was a lie, to pull me along, pretending I’m getting closer, when the truth is anything but.
“It’s true, but not all is lost. There is a party tonight where there will be a few VIPs of talent and other people in the industry. It will be good to rub shoulders with them.”
“Have you told my father?” I haven’t left this house since I arrived home. My parents aren’t the type to let me go to a party where I could embarrass them. This party is everything they fear.
“You’re allowed to go with me supervising.”
*
I spend the whole day excited about getting ready for this party. For once, both my parents seem to be on the same page. My mom and I go get our hair and makeup done. As my mother has mentioned more than once, it would have been unacceptable if I was forced to do my own. But other than that, we’re actually getting along. I don’t remember the last time I was actually happy in my mother’s presence.