The Only Way

by Magan Vernon

  I opened the back door and stepped out, taking in a deep breath. It was already chilly in November and it felt like the first snowfall could come down at any moment.

  Trey went around to the passenger side of the car and opened Monica’s.

  “Come on, Tripp, we can’t just leave you outside and tell Dad you never showed up,” Trey said, patting my shoulder.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

  I followed the two up the steps to the large double doors. Monica pressed the doorbell and the sounds of “Hail to the Chief” rang through the door. I always found it amusing and kind of sarcastic that Dad had that as his doorbell. Now it was even worse since he lost the election.

  Mom opened the door before the song could finish. I would have thought she would have had one of their maids answer, but instead the bright-eyed-almost-first-lady was there to greet us in her pressed pink skirt suit and dyed blonde hair pulled into some sort of updo that looked more like it was meant for some teen girl’s senior prom.

  If doing her hair and getting Botox made her happy, I couldn’t blame her. Everybody needs to do something that makes them happy even if it seems stupid to everyone else.

  “Trey! Tripp! Monica! So good to see you!” She ushered us in and hugged us all as if she hadn’t seen us in months, when in reality it had been less than twelve hours since we’d last seen her.

  “Good to see you as well, Mrs. Chapman,” Monica said. She never called Mom by her first name. Neither of my parents, even if they insisted on it.

  “Your father is in the study on a call but he’ll be joining us soon. He said to get started.” She put her arm around me and squeezed my side. She was almost a foot shorter than me. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

  The dining room was set up as immaculate as ever with the white table cloth and gobs of food stacked on crystal plates. Trigg was seated at the far end of the table while the head was reserved for Dad. Trigg looked even worse than he did the night before. I guess sleeping at Mom and Dad’s wasn’t the most comfortable sleep, especially if he had to explain that his wife left him the same night Dad lost the election.

  “Hey!” Trigg stood up, almost knocking over a plate of Danishes. Why the hell did we need a large plate of Danishes? Were we expecting an extra ten people to brunch?

  “So, you decided to keep the beard?” Trey asked, rubbing his own chin as he shook Trigg’s hand before taking the seat across from him.

  Bastard. That meant Monica would sit next to him and I’d have to take the seat closest to Dad.

  “People like the beard. It’s coming back. I even got some beard oil at a shop in Boston,” Trigg said, stroking the short hairs on his face.

  Trey just shook his head. “Whatever you say.”

  Monica sat down next to him and Mom took the seat at the other end of the table. I clenched and unclenched my fist, thinking of an excuse to switch seats, but I didn’t have one, so I stopped being a pussy and sucked it up, sitting down.

  Before I could even pull my chair in, Dad’s voice boomed through the room. “Morning, everyone!”

  I didn’t even turn in his direction when he took his seat. I barely glanced up from the table and just watched his hands as he took the perfectly folded cloth napkin off his plate.

  “I guess this was supposed to be a celebration breakfast, but a consolation one works just as well,” Dad said, keeping a cheery tone to his voice.

  Whatever the guy was on, it was better than my anti-depressants and I was thinking about asking him for some.

  Mom laughed. “We do have a lot of other things to celebrate. We always do. God is always finding ways to bless our family.”

  Dad’s elbows went on the table as he folded his hands. I couldn’t see the expression on his face but his voice was still chipper. “Yes, like the fact that Trey and Monica will be welcoming a new grand-daughter into our family and soon a wedding.”

  “And Tripp’s out of rehab,” Trey blurted as if he wanted the attention off of him. I glared at my little brother. Since when did the kid want to throw me under the bus?

  “Yes. Tripp’s back and hopefully feeling better.” Dad clasped his hand on my shoulder.

  I didn’t want to look at him. I tried to peel my eyes away but I was always a glutton for punishment and met his stare. He may have been smiling but his eyes were cold. Distant. He wasn’t exactly happy that I was out. Or probably that I was ever in.

  He moved his hand off my shoulder and we all prayed before digging in to the food in front of us. There was small talk and laughs, but I didn’t pay attention to any of it. It was as if I was under water and everyone else was above it. I knew they were talking and I could hear them but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “Tripp?”

  It took Dad saying my name a few times before I finally heard him and glanced in his direction. “Yeah. Sorry. I was in my own world, I guess.”

  Usually that meant I was high and damn I wished I was instead of just disappearing into my own head.

  He gave me a tight-lipped smile. “I was just going to see if you could join me in my office for a bit. Business talk.”

  I glanced behind me at my brothers, but they both had their head down. Cowards.

  “You sure you don’t want to talk to them?” I hitched my thumb toward the two.

  Dad’s smile turned to a smirk. “No, son. Just to you. Don’t worry.” He patted my shoulder. “It won't take long, then you can get back to your brothers and tell them all about it.”

  I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  I wasn’t trying to be a pussy, but there was something about my dad that scared the living shit out of me. I don’t know if I was more scared of what he would do or the fact that I was always a disappointment, no matter what I did.

  I followed him down the hall to his office. The room looked like something out of one of those 50’s movies, where the men had giant desks and smoked like a chimney all day long while looking out of their big windows.

  “Have a seat, son.” Dad pointed to one of the leather chairs across from his desk. He took the big chair behind the desk, like this was some sort of interview and I was the prospect.

  “I’ll stand, if that’s okay,” I said, trying to keep some control of the situation.

  Dad nodded. “Very well.”

  He scooted in his chair and then steepled his fingers together. “As you know, the results of this election are going to change a lot of things for this family, including you and Trey’s occupations.”

  “Yeah. I guess we’ll have to go and look for real jobs now. I don’t know how I’ll do that with an MBA.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  Dad smirked. “Trey was offered a job with the city. An alderman approached him last night, but I haven’t heard anything from you about your plans for the future. I thought I’d give you some time after graduation, but it’s been six months and the only thing you’ve accomplished is a half-ass job for the campaign.”

  I guess it was better that he was blunt and got straight to the point.

  “Well, I guess I better update my resume and get out on the job hunt then.”

  He tapped his fingers together, one at a time. “Yes. I’ve made some phone calls. A lot of places aren’t too thrilled with hiring someone with visible tattoos, even though you do a decent job of covering them up with your suit.”

  I involuntarily touched the ink on my neck. My collar hid most of it but I knew that’s why the last bank I applied at turned me down. They didn’t care that I graduated magna cum laude or that I was the governor’s son wearing an Armani suit. They just saw the ink and somehow that made me a bad person.

  Dad didn’t wait for me to respond. “You have two interviews downtown this week. I’ve emailed you the locations and it should be an easy walk or cab ride.”

  “Okay. That sounds great.” I forced a smile. I didn’t want a job that Dad handpicked for me. Hell, I didn’t even know what I wanted in a job. A career. Somewhere where I’d spe
nd the next fifty years of my life. Maybe that’s why I got my masters, because I had no fucking clue what I wanted in life. It’s also why I was always stoned. Sometimes it was better to clear my mind than think of all the other fucked up places it could be.

  And right now I wanted to be anywhere but here.

  Chapter 4

  The first place Dad had me interview was with some Investment Firm on Wabash. The whole interview took about ten minutes and the guy basically said he was doing it as a favor for my old man but had no intention of hiring me.

  I had another interview later in the week but I wanted to blow it off. I needed something to burn off some steam.

  I knew I couldn’t get high, if I did get hired, I knew there would be a drug test and my parole officer was probably just dying to get me to piss dirty so he would get a chance to lock me up. So I had to settle for a cigarette and a trip to my favorite tattoo parlor: Phoenix Ink.

  Maybe I’d get something to represent my stint in rehab or maybe something just to show what a fuck up I was. Either way, I was getting the itch for something new.

  November was as brisk as ever and I was sure it was going to snow soon, but without a car I didn’t have much of a choice to take a cab or walk everywhere. In the daytime, Belmont wasn’t a bad area; just had a lot of random punk kids around, skateboarding and whatever.

  “I’ve got it, I’ve got it. Calm down, damn cat.” A familiar voice rang out behind me and I stopped, looking slightly over my shoulder.

  Sam, the girl from The Pancake House, stood on the sidewalk. She was balancing a blue cat carrier in one arm and large box crooked under her other.

  I turned around fully and rushed over to her, scooping up the box out of her hand. “Here, let me help you with that.”

  She set that cat carrier down on a small red hatchback. “I’ve got it.” She tugged the box out of my hand and opened the back door, piling it on top of another stack of small boxes.

  I smirked. “Going somewhere?”

  Her eyes trailed over me. I didn’t know what she was thinking and I wanted to know what the hell was going on behind that dark stare. “No, I just like packing up everything I own in my car for shits and giggles.”

  I put my hands up. “Hey, I was just trying to help you out. No need to get bitchy.”

  She put one hand on her hip and pointed the other one at me. “Look, I know who you are, Mr. Governor’s son. I don’t need your sympathy or your help. Or your big tips. I’ve taken care of myself up until you came around and I’ll continue to do so without some fake sympathy.”

  A short, Asian girl in a newsboy cap pushed her way between us with two milk crates in her arms. She shoved them in the car and stepped back, dusting off her pants before looking at Sam and completely ignoring the fact that I was standing there. “That’s the last of your stuff. You know I hate to do this, but...” She sighed.

  Sam shook her head. “Like I was just telling tattooed wonder boy here, I don’t take handouts. It’s my fault I haven’t kept up on the rent.”

  The Asian girl turned and her eyes trailed over me. I couldn’t tell if it was in disgust or not because her face stayed perfectly still. “Another fuck buddy?” The Asian girl raised an eyebrow.

  Sam groaned. “No way. He’s just some guy that came into my work.”

  “Sure looks like he’s into you. What other kind of guy would carry your boxes?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Sao, haven’t you caused enough trouble today?” Sam asked.

  Sao shrugged. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll leave you two alone to figure out whatever is going on here.” She motioned between us before she turned and headed back into the door she came out of.

  “You got kicked out?” I asked, trying not to seem too concerned but it bothered me.

  “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

  “Where are you going to go?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll find somewhere.”

  I looked around. There was a definite drug deal going on between two mohawked kids on the other side of the street. A homeless man held up a sign saying the he was looking for money and pussy. This wasn’t a place for anyone to be stuck without a place to go.

  “Do you have friends to stay with? Family member?”

  She huffed. “Not that it’s any of your business but my mom was all I had and she’s gone.”

  I thought about the unfinished tattoo on her arm. The way her eyes looked when she told me it was for her mom. This girl needed someone to help her out, even if she acted like she didn’t.

  I rubbed my chin and didn’t even think before I spoke. “Why don’t you crash at my place until you get on your feet then? I have a couch.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I just say that I didn’t take handouts and you weren’t my fuck buddy?”

  I was in too deep now. There was no turning back and there was something about a girl that challenged me that got me going. “Look, it’s just temporary. You can do shit for me like drive me around and clean or whatever. Then you can save some money to get a place again.”

  She shook her head. “Seriously? How do you know that I’m not some serial killer? I could rob you blind and leave you naked, chained to your bed with my cat on your dick.”

  I laughed. “I don’t even know how to respond to that. I’ve had way shadier people in my apartment and I’ve still turned out okay.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip and stared at the orange cat in the cage. She didn’t speak for so long that I was starting to wonder if she was ever going to answer.

  I opened my mouth to say something then she sighed and turned toward me. “I wish I had some other choice, but it doesn’t look like I do.”

  I thought she was going to continue on with that low, smoky voice, but instead she narrowed her eyes, her voice raising slightly as she jammed her finger in my chest. “But I’m working for it. And not with sex acts. I’ll drive you to appointments and do whatever else kind of assistant work you need. And Hashtag Cat comes with me.”

  I smirked. “Hashtag Cat?”

  “Yeah. That’s his name. He also doesn’t like people, so if he bites you, you can’t sue me.”

  I shook my head. I had no idea what the hell I was getting into, but it was too late to turn back now. I put my hand out. “Deal.”

  She took my hand in hers and shook it. “Deal, wonder boy.”

  ***

  Instead of getting my tattoo, I ended up cramming my 6’2’ body in Sam’s tiny ass car that smelled like patchouli and maple syrup.

  It wasn’t too far of a drive to my apartment but we were silent the entire way, except for the damn cat’s incessant meowing and the angry girl rock that streamed from the car stereo. I so badly wanted to grab it and change it to something that didn’t make my ears bleed, but the girl had a bad enough day, maybe she needed the screaming.

  We pulled up to my apartment and I pointed toward the parking deck. “You can just pull in there and type in code 1776. My parking spot is number 33 on the first floor.”

  She smirked, not even looking at me as she pulled into the lot, rolling down her window to type in the code. “Really into that whole patriotic thing, ey?”

  I shrugged. “It’s easy to remember.”

  The gate went up and she pulled into the garage. “I hope that’s not your code for everything. Then it would be really easy to rob you blind and leave you with my cat.”

  It was, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.

  “Yeah and I’m sure no one would question the red head carrying around a card that says ‘William Chapman’.”

  She pulled into the spot, turning off the engine. She finally turned toward me, both eye brows raised. “I didn’t know your name was William.”

  I laughed. “Seriously? You think my parents actually named me Tripp?”

  She tossed her keys into her large green purse and opened the door. “I don’t know. I don’t know how political drones think.”

  I got out of the
passenger side and opened the back door, grabbing two of her boxes. “Don’t tell me you follow politics and have something against me because you’re a bleeding heart liberal?”

  She took out the carrier with Hashtag Cat in it. “I used to. I was really into it when I was in college, but it kind of took a backseat when I had to worry about other things, you know like my mom dying, and figured out that no matter what I voiced an opinion about, it wasn’t going to change someone else’s.”

  It was actually a pretty brilliant way to look at it. I knew how often Trey and Monica argued about politics and neither one of them agreed with the other, so they just kept bickering. I think they liked that though. It was like their foreplay.

  “How do you think things will ever change if people don’t argue over it?” I asked, leading her toward the elevator.

  “People can solve problems without arguing, but if either one isn’t going to budge maybe it’s time to just put them in their own corners and let them believe what they want.”

  I pushed the button and the doors opened. Sam followed me in as the doors closed behind us. “That’s kind of a piss poor way to look at life.”

  She turned toward me. Her eyes were steely. “Yeah, when life pisses on you enough sometime you feel like that.”

  I didn’t answer her. I could have thought of something witty and continued our banter, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. Something that told me there was a lot to this girl’s story and her getting kicked out was just another thing to add to it.

  The elevator doors dinged and opened. I let Sam out first and then followed. “I’m the third door on the left. Apartment 33. It’s unlocked.”

  “You leave your door unlocked? You really are way too trusting.” She cracked the door and pushed it the rest of way open with her hip.

  “Can’t think everyone is out to get me.”

  Her eyes trailed around my small apartment. She didn’t drop her boxes but turned toward me. “You didn’t tell me this was a studio. Are we just supposed to share the same space?”

  I set the boxes I was holding down on the kitchen counter. “First off, you didn’t ask any questions about my apartment, second, I said you could crash on the couch. There’s two of them. Take your pick.”