He had never seen the street side of me, I was edgy sure, but he had no notion how much of a scrapper I could be. I craved to be better for him, someone worth his time, now I felt like maybe I had made a mistake. What if Reece was telling his friends he banged the loner chick in English Lit? What if they were all laughing right now?
I didn’t think, I jumped out of the shower, toweled off and threw my unruly mane into a loose ponytail. My jeans, bra, shirt and shoes followed. I didn’t bother with make-up, what would be the point? The light freckles that peppered my nose weren’t going anywhere. I took a brief glance in the mirror. I wasn’t going to win any beauty contests today. Standing at 5 foot-nothing, I was clearly on the shorter side, throw in the boobs and hips and I obviously did not fit Seventeen Magazine’s waif thin model look.
Forcing myself away from my reflection I grabbed my keys and went off to discover the truth.
It didn’t take long to get to the cafeteria; it was in the Student Union in the middle of campus. I stepped up to the giant glass doors. I knew the table that Reece and his friends always sat at. It was near a large set of open windows. It being April and the weather moderate, I knew those windows would be wide open.
Since it was Saturday, it wasn’t particularly busy in the cafeteria, and I could hear Reece’s friends’ laughter from where I stood by the door.
Walking around to kneel by the cement wall under the open window, making certain I was crouched down enough so no one could see me from the inside, I talked myself out of a full-fledged panic attack.
Why didn’t I just trust him? He had done nothing to make me not trust him. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. So I stood there in the warm Nevada sunshine and eavesdropped with my fingers crossed.
“Man, I have to say I had my doubts.” That was Ron, the trust fund baby that lived off the leftover cheerleaders that Reece cast aside.
“Seriously dude, I give you props, from what I saw today she has a serious rack underneath all those t-shirts.” That was Ryan. He was a blonde, California surfer type. He held his own in the getting females department, but his sentences usually started with, dude. I have to admit the thought of Ryan thinking about my boobs made me want to throw up. Just ewww.
“Shut up,” I heard Reece say. He sounded furious, but about what?
“Come on Reesy, take the money, you earned it, you won. Now you can dump that skank and come to the bonfire tonight with me.”
I recognized that voice; I knew that plastic, Barbie bitch. She was in my English literature class with Reece; she was constantly throwing me dirty looks. Her nails were always perfectly French manicured, and her blonde Barbie hair and blue eyes were always perfectly done up. Fuck, I detested this chick. She just called the man, I thought was special, Reesy!
Did she give him a pet fucking name? Honestly, I wanted to cut her, severely. I was so pissed off at Barbie that I almost missed the most significant element that came out of her mouth. Reece won? Won what? What was the game? And why was he now free to dump me?
These were great questions, but before I could even wrap my mind around it, I was being pelted by water. Shit, the sprinklers. Who the hell sets off sprinklers at noon on a Saturday? I shrieked when the unrelenting stream hit me square in the face. Jumping up from my crouched position I came face to face with green eyes. I instantly glanced from Reece to the table in front of him. Five hundred dollars in crisp one-hundred-dollar bills lay in the center. His friends looked away.
It didn’t take a genius to put this puzzle together. Running to the pavement to get out of the sprinklers, I was met by a wild-eyed, breathing hard, panicked looking Reece, his guilty looking friends, and a pompous looking Barbie.
Reece reached for me; his eyes looked anxious. I evaded his hands and backed up. I knew I was soaked from head to foot. My wet clothes clung to me, and I began to shiver, but I couldn’t stop staring at Reece. I needed him to tell me it wasn’t true.
“I just need you to answer my questions, with a simple yes or no Reece,” I took a deep breath. I could do this, just lock down the pain like always and execute. Forcing my breathing to slow down and even out, I was about to ask Reece my first question when Barbie broke in.
“Reece doesn’t owe you any explanations; you were a bet. If he could get the girl with the crack whore momma into bed, he won five hundred bucks,” Barbie gloated.
I saw red, and my vision dimmed as I shifted my attention to Barbie. So they all knew about my mom and my life? Fine, they wanted the street rat; I would give them all the street rat they could handle starting with Malibu Barbie.
“Amber!” Reece growled.
I put my hand up to silence him. I walked over to Barbie and smiled. That took the smug look right off her face. Instead, she looked puzzled.
Before she could blink, I grasped a handful of that blonde hair and forced her head down while bringing my knee up. She cried out as her nose connected with my knee cap, but I wasn’t satisfied. This was what they wanted to see, right? With a hand still clutching her hair, I took my fist and smashed it into her stomach. While she was bent over sobbing, I whispered in her ear, “Yep, my mother is a crack whore, I did live in a hotel, and you have no idea what I’m capable of.” I drove her back towards the guys. Their jaws were dropped as they looked from me to Barbie.
“You may need to take her to the wellness center before that bonfire, stud,” I said coolly. I was glad that I was able to keep my voice steady despite the chaos raging in my heart. At that moment, I knew I didn’t belong in college. I was the daughter of a wealthy woman turned crack whore; my father was an MIA douchebag, and the only person that cared was Uncle Jack.
I had been an idiot to think that someone like Reece Hudson gave a shit. Apparently, my virginity had a price tag, and it was five hundred dollars. My stomach rolled when I thought about how three hours ago I thought Reece and I had a future; that someone cared about me. But that was ridiculous, and I blamed myself. Fairytales were for the Reece Hudsons and Barbie’s of the world, not street rats with crack whore moms.
Large steel bands wrapped around me from behind, lifting me off the ground they hauled me against a rock-solid chest. I knew it was Reece. I needed to leave; I needed him not to touch me, I was going to break down and the fuck if I was going to cry in front of all of them. Arms that I had willingly gone to only hours ago, now caused me squirm to get away.
“Synclair baby stop,” he whispered softly, not seeming to notice that I was getting him all wet. He spoke to me like someone would talk to an injured animal. But I wasn’t wounded, I was fine! Or at least I was going to be just fine as soon I could get out of his damn hold.
“Let. Me. Go.” I ordered. I would have kicked him, but his six-foot-two frame against my five-foot body easily kept me up off the ground.
“I think she broke my nose, Oh my god, I want her arrested, call security I was assaulted,” Barbie squawked. I had to grin; her face was a wreck with her mascara streaked down her face. Reece’s friends were putting ice from the lunchroom on her nose and trying to soothe the whiney bitch.
“Come on Amber, it’s not broken, let’s just get you home and get you cleaned up,” Keyvin soothed.
Amber a.k.a. Barbie was having none of it. By now we had attracted a nice crowd. I smirked at my handiwork. No, violence didn’t fix things, but there were occasions when you just had to smack a bitch.
“Reece don’t let her leave,” Amber- Barbie ordered Reece while working to stem the blood pouring out of her nose. I wondered how long it would take for her to bleed to death from that. I laughed. If there were popcorn and soda available, I might just watch that show.
“You’re a witness, and I am calling campus security,” she droned on in her standard high-pitched drama.
“Don’t be dramatic Amber, and I have no intention of letting her go,” he told Amber-Barbie. Without even letting my feet touch the ground he whirled me around and used his enormous hands on my arms to keep me in place.
“What’s the matter, Hudson?” I knew he despised it when I called him by his last name. “Afraid if you let me go I’ll kick the shit out of the star athlete on game day?” It was all I had. I wasn’t lying, I was torn between hoping he let me go so I could run away and lick my wounds, and breaking his 3 point throwing arm so he couldn’t play in the game tonight.
“Stop it Synclair; this isn’t you. I realize I hurt you, I can and will explain it. But you need to calm down,” he hissed, getting nose to nose with me.
Now I was pissed off all over again! My anger was threatening to push to the surface again. Wait! Why was I fighting my anger here? There was no reason to hold back my street tendencies. I didn’t need to try to be worthy of him; I didn’t need to fit in here.
Apparently, I was the fraud. These people were exactly who they always had been and would always be. I was the one struggling to avoid where I came from, or let’s face it, where I was still at. It was time I accepted who I was and stopped making apologies for my life.
“That’s where you're mistaken, Hudson,” I growled in a low, menacing voice. “This is me, I am the daughter of a crack addict, she does sell herself for cash, and I’ve had more step daddies then you’ve had panties thrown at you during a game! I have never lived in a home, it has always been motels, this dorm is part of my scholarship, and it’s the first time I’ve had a roof over my head that didn’t depend on my mother’s boyfriend or how much she made from whoring the night before.”
His eyes narrowed with concern, and then I saw pity. I hated pity, but I didn’t stop, I wanted him to know it all, for him to see all the ugly.
“I am from the streets and on the streets, the only thing people recognize is violence and power. So yeah, this is me, telling you to PUT. ME. THE. FUCK. DOWN.” I screeched the last part.
He didn’t let me go; he didn’t even blink. He groaned, and his face looked like someone had just run over his puppy. I had zero sympathies, nada, none. He could take his “poor me” look and shove it up his ass.
I peered over Reece’s shoulder and saw campus security walking towards us along with two police officers. Apparently, I was more like my mom than I realized, I was about to be arrested and thrown in jail. Damn.
Reece took my distracted silence as me settling down. He set me down tenderly and took one large palm and placed it on my cheek. I willed myself not to cry. The man who had just betrayed me didn’t match the man lovingly stroking my face. Stay hard, I warned myself; he’s a phony and a schemer.
It suddenly dawned on me that Reece was just like my mom. He had humiliated me, hurt me, assured me that he cared for me, and now would employ whatever words he could to persuade me that his assholery wasn’t what it was. But I was finished being used, laughed at, and manipulated. Looking up into those tender eyes that I once dreamed I could get lost in, I brought up my knee and racked him as hard as I could between his legs. I stepped back as he crumpled to the ground.
Immediately, one of the police officers seized my arms. “Hands behind your back! Oh shit, Syn? Syn Patrick?”
Damn, it was bad enough I was going to get arrested, but I was going to be arrested by the same cops that arrested my mother again and again. Worse than that, he called me Syn. Syn was my nickname around my mom and everyone on the streets. When I had got to campus, I introduced myself as Synclair. I wanted to be different than the street rat I have always been characterized as.
“Yeah Donny, it’s me,” I felt ashamed. Donny was about 50 years old and had once told me he had a daughter my age and a boy just a bit older than that. If he was the one called to evict us from a hotel, he always let me gather my things and if he saw me walking home late at night, he would always pull over and give me a ride. A nice man, with graying hair and warm brown eyes, he had always been good to my mom and me. Now I felt like I had let him down.
“We gonna cuff her Donny? The lady over there wants to press charges.” This came from a police officer I had never seen. He looked too young to be a cop, with his crew cut and aviator glasses.
Donny looked down at me; I knew he felt bad for me. I placed my fists behind my back. “It's cool Donny, it’s your job, besides,” I told him looking at Reece who was being held up by his friends, “I’m done here.” I turned away from Reece; I hoped I never saw him again in my life.
In the end, Donny didn’t cuff me, he took my arm and led me to the patrol car and placed me in the back seat. Leaving the new guy to take, what I am sure was a drama filled report from Amber- Barbie, he took me to the station about three miles from campus.
Before handing me off to a female officer, Donny offered to call my mom or Uncle Jack. I shook my head. I didn’t want Uncle Jack to know I was arrested, and mom wouldn’t be able to help me. Sighing, I thanked Donny and went with the female officer.
Jail sucks. I can, now, say that from personal experience. There is nothing worse than sitting in a cold room on a Saturday night, filled with the same plastic chairs I sat on in third grade, hemmed in by hookers, drug users and drunk tourists who were furious that they were missing their Celine Dion show at Caesar’s Palace.
After being, fingerprinted and having my lovely mug shot taken, I was ordered into an office and questioned by a nice woman with a crew cut, named Charlie. After a lengthy conversation of the circumstances, Charlie informed me she would get back to me. I guess she was hoping for some way to get me released with a court date. I didn’t give her anyone to call to vouch for my character. I mean really, mom had no money, and I didn’t want to bug Uncle Jack, and there was noway I was calling Chef Max.
I wasn’t sure if my part-time job at KFC was sufficient to prove I wasn’t a flight risk and I was presumably getting booted out of The University of Las Vegas, or UNLV as we locals called it, as we spoke. It appeared my college education was going to be cut short by Reece Hudson and that Amber-Barbie twit.
After my interview with Charlie, I returned to the hard plastic chair that was closest to the television. It turned out a few hours and a disgusting bologna sandwich later, I was released. Apparently, Amber had dropped the assault charges and Reece never filed any.
Now the sucky part about being arrested is that they don’t drop you off where they arrested you. Nope, they take you down a lengthy corridor and walk you through a gate that is buzzed open by some unseen police officer and out you go.
I had never been arrested, but I had bailed my mom out before. I exhaled as the gate opened. I stepped out into the street. My purse and cell phone were in my dorm. My clothes were still damp and while the spring days were beautiful, the nights were still only in the 50s. With no money for a cab and no phone to call anyone, but then again who would I call? I began the three-mile walk back to campus. Normally, this wouldn’t have bothered me but a three-mile walk at 3 a.m. in the seediest part of Vegas was not my idea of fun.
Placing one foot in front of the other, I swore I would never be duped again. I was Syn Patrick; I was going to own who I was and where I was from. I was tired of trying to fit into a world that obviously didn’t want me. No matter how bad shit was right now, everything had a bottom. I was positive I had reached mine. Things could only get better from here, I told myself.
Apparently, I’m a damn liar. I should have known things could always get worse. As soon as I stepped into my small room, I saw my phone blinking in the darkness. I was going to ignore it and tumble into bed, exhausted, when I looked and saw that I had missed 42 calls from Uncle Jack and 12 text messages. Immediately, my exhaustion was replaced with panic. I scrolled through the messages, ignoring the ones from Reece.
My hands shook when I read the message from Uncle Jack.
8:20 P.M., Your mom, overdosed, at Sunrise Med Center, take a cab I will pay for it. UJ.
I didn’t hesitate; my first call was to a c
ab service, and the next was to Uncle Jack. It took about 10 calls and fifteen minutes for him to eventually answer.
“Uncle Jack, how’s mom?” I asked, winded from sprinting to meet the cab at the front of campus. I flung myself into the taxi and directed the driver where to take me. I shuddered, then I realized I had the wet clothes on from yesterday.
“Doll, when you get here I’ll meet you in the back by emergency,” he answered.
I realized he hadn’t answered my question and felt my heart start to beat faster. “Uncle Jack, is mom a-alive?” I choked out; my breathing labored as I struggled to push down the fear that was clawing its way to the surface.
“I think we…” he started.
“No!” I shrieked, not caring that I was rudely interrupting him mid-sentence. The cabbie looked at me in his rearview mirror and then quickly back on the road.
“Is. She. Dead?” I had to know; I had to know now.
“Yes, hon,” came his pained response. I didn’t hear much of what he said next. It was something about talking to me when I got there, and for me not to worry.
Without thinking I threw the cell out the window, not wanting to look at it again. I sat back in the tattered leather seats and blankly stared out the window as the Vegas landscape rushed by.
I would like to say that I was surprised, but I wasn’t, even though I still was. How many times had I went to the emergency room with her when she overdosed on something? Countless. How many times had they told her that the next OD could be her last? Too many to calculate.
Like every kid with a messed up parent, a part of me wanted to believe that someday she would get better. Deep down, a little part me wanted her to wake up someday and be the mom in The Brady Bunch. Yeah, that part of me needed to be slapped upside the head.
Lucky Charms: A Hudson Family Series- Book 3- Dalton and Cami Page 32