What?
Me: You’re kicking me out?
She doesn’t respond right away, so I slide into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and start the engine. If what she’s saying is true, then I … I really don’t know how I feel about it. On one hand, I feel kind of relieved, but on the other …
Where will I go?
Mom: Not so much as kicking you out than you’ve just decided to grow up and start taking care of yourself because you want to be mature.
I shake my head as I reply.
Me: So that’s what you’re going to tell everyone, I’m assuming.
Mom: Yep, and you’ll play along with the story or there will be consequences. And I don’t need to say what those consequences are. You’ve had them since you were five, so you know the drill. I just wish you were smart enough to realize that, if you stopped doing stupid things, you wouldn’t have to be punished at all. But clearly, you’re not that bright.
I swallow hard at her words. While my dad is usually the asshole, my mother does have her shining moments.
Still, if they kick me out …
Me: What could you possibly do to me if you kick me out? I won’t be under your roof anymore.
It’s a bold move, at least for the West who lives under that roof. Everyone who knows me outside thinks I’m a bold, blunt guy, but inside that house, I am weak. Inside that house, I’ve been beaten down to almost nothing. A ghost. I’m a ghost in that house.
Mom: Oh, there’s a lot we can do to you. Your father owns this town, and he and I can make your life a living hell. You need a job? We’ll make sure no one hires you. You want a scholarship? We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. And you’ll need those things because we won’t be supporting you financially anymore.
I ball my hands into fists until my fingernails cut through my flesh. So that’s their big plan? To take everything away from me.
Me: Why are you doing this to me? I know I messed up but taking everything away from me seems harsh. And someone could find out.
Mom: What happened last night was the end of a very long list of your screw-ups. Your father and I have been talking about doing this for a very long time, and tonight, when your father announced he’s running for mayor, we officially decided that it was time to clean up the trash in the family. Starting with our disappointment of a son.
Rage and pain wave through me, making it difficult to breathe. This night had been amazing but is quickly shattering.
All those years I spent in that house, letting my dad smack me around, letting my mom verbally abuse me, I did it with the hope that one day I’d graduate and get to take off for college. I had a college fund, a future. Now I have nothing. And the sad part of it is that, even with all that, part of me feels relieved that I finally get to escape from that hellhole that I had called home.
Me: Do I at least get to pick up my stuff?
Mom: I already put your stuff out on the porch. You can pick it up tonight, and then you can meet your dad and me for breakfast tomorrow so you can inform us of your future plans on how you’ll take care of yourself. And you better have a good plan. If you don’t, like I said, we’ll make your life a living hell.
I want to say, More than you already have? but I’m too tired. And hungover. And worried about what the hell I’m going to do.
This has to be another one of her mind games, but I’m not sure what game she’s playing. Like always.
Me: Okay.
That’s all I say before I toss my phone aside then grip the steering wheel to drive forward to pick up my stuff. I’m not sure where I’ll go after that. I have some money in my wallet, enough to maybe get a hotel room for a week or so. After that, I’m going to end up homeless probably unless I can get a job before that happens. Then I’ll have to cross my fingers I can get scholarships or grants or something, that is if I want to go to college. And I can’t touch my trust fund money until I’m twenty-one. I guess if all else fails, for now, I can live in my car, since the title is in my name, so my parents can’t take that away.
It was actually a present from my grandfather. He gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. He passed away not too long after that. He was the only adult in my life who I ever felt cared about me, and when he died, I felt like a part of me died.
If he were here, I could turn to him for help. But he’s not. No one is. I have no one to turn to. Not even Blaine, since we declared our friendship over last night. Plus, I never told him anything about my messed-up home life. Lex knows a little about it, but I’m not about to turn to her for help. She has her own problems and doesn’t need mine piled onto hers. The only other people who know anything about what goes on in that house are Holden and Ellis. And, while they might let me crash on their couch for a couple of days, they don’t have a bunch of extra cash lying around, so they can’t support my soon-to-be broke ass.
Still, maybe I can crash there for a few nights.
I steer into a nearby gas station then take out my phone.
Me: Hey, can I crash at your place tonight? My parents kicked me out, and I have nowhere else to go.
It takes him a moment to reply, and I grow worried he won’t, but then he finally texts back.
Holden: Yeah, that’s cool. Just a heads-up, though, my boss is over and we’re talking shop. I’ve mentioned you a couple of times, so he might try to convince you to work for him. I know you said you don’t want to, but it kind of sounds like maybe your mind could be changed now. Like you might need the money.
I’m unsure of how to reply. While I’m all for rebelling, dealing drugs instead of occasionally doing them is an entirely different level of trouble.
But, he’s right. I do need the money. And I really don’t have much to lose anymore. Not really anyway.
I’m all alone.
Swallowing hard, I type a reply.
Me: Yeah, okay. See you in a bit.
I’m not sure what just happened, but it feels like maybe I agreed to something. I should be more worried, but really, I just feel lost, like Alexis painted on the wall. Drowning in a sea of agony, fighting against the waves.
At this point, part of me kind of wants to stop fighting.
Fifteen
Alexis
Last night, I dreamed of drowning. Last night, I dreamed of falling into a tunnel of darkness that whispered my secrets and branded them all over my flesh, like toxic smoke that seeped into my pores and consumed my body. And then, if things couldn't get any weirder, my dreams shifted into West territory.
We were under the stars, just like we were last night. Not in the park, though, but some place close to the sky. He was kissing me and touching me, and it felt like his hands were erasing those whispered, toxic secrets consuming me from the inside.
When I woke up, I felt like I’d just ran a damn marathon. It was early, and I never did fall back asleep. I tried to, but then I started getting messages. And after a while, I arrived at the conclusion that I’m definitely being stalked. Or, well … harassed? Honestly, I’m not really sure what to label the messages I’ve been receiving.
Unknown: You’re going to do what I say, or everyone will find out about your little extracurricular activities.
That message, I received only minutes ago.
Okay, maybe I should label this as blackmail.
I reread the message for the third time. “Yeah, definitely blackmail.”
Just the idea of being blackmailed makes my jaw tick. I want to send the texter a middle finger emoji, but I also don’t want everyone finding out that I’m the one who’s been graffitiing quotes on buildings all over town.
“What the crap am I going to do?” I mutter as I flop down on the bed and stare up at the ceiling.
Last night, West told me he’d help me figure out who’s sending these messages, that he has some hacker friend. It seems a bit sketchy if you ask me. Not that I think West is a liar. I just don’t believe some guy will be able to track down an unknown phone number. Not that I know who his friend
is—he was pretty vague about that. The only friends of West’s that I know were Masie and Blaine, and the idea of either one of them being some sort of hacker …
I bust up laughing, the noise sounding a bit choked because it’s been a while. “Holy shit, I so needed that.”
“Um … Lex?” Zhara appears in my doorway with her brows knit, her eyes filled with confusion. “Are you okay?”
No, Zhara, I don’t think I am.
I don’t think I’ll ever be.
But I put on my mask and nod, sitting up and dabbing the tears of laughter from my eyes. “Yeah, I was just thinking about something funny.”
She hesitates. “What was it?”
I lift a shoulder, scooting to the edge of my unmade bed and lowering my feet to the floor. “Masie and Blaine being smart enough to be able to hack a phone.”
She smiles. “That is pretty funny. It’s good to see you laugh, too … It’s been a while.”
My smile falters. “It hasn’t been that long,” I mutter, knowing it actually hasn’t.
I laughed in the car with West, but I’m not sure how I feel about that.
I don’t want to feel anything about it.
“Yeah, it kind of has,” she says cautiously. When I narrow my eyes at her, she adds, “Lex, it’s not a bad thing to smile.”
“I never said it was.” Sometimes it just feels like I shouldn’t be smiling.
Like I shouldn’t be happy.
Like I shouldn’t be any of those things.
And most days, that’s how I feel.
But after last night, with that kiss, I’m feeling a little bit … exposed.
She quietly sighs then starts nervously fidgeting with a loose thread dangling from the hem of her tank top. “I need to talk to you about something … something that’s kind of private. Truthfully, I’m not really supposed to be talking about it, but I feel like I need to talk about it with someone, because I need some advice and …” She blows out a stressed breath then walks all the way into my room and shuts the door behind her. Then she spins around to face me, leaning against the door and chewing on her bottom lip.
“I know we haven’t gotten along very well lately, but we used to be able to tell each other secrets, and I really need you to do that for me right now. I know you probably don’t want to, but …” She swallows hard. “Please tell me I can talk about this with you and that what I say will stay between us.”
Part of me wants to tell her no, that I don’t need any more secrets, that my own are almost too heavy for me, but the silent plea in her eyes makes me cave.
“Fine, but make it quick,” I tell her, tucking a strand of my tangled brown hair behind my ear.
She visibly relaxes, but then she begins anxiously picking at her fingernails. “So, you know Benton?” she asks.
I nod, a bit perplexed. Benton isn’t the kind of guy I could see Zhara spending time with. He’s like he exact opposite—all bad boy and intense. Not that Zhara isn’t intense. You should see her right before she has to take a test.
“Well, we’re kind of dating,” she utters softly.
“What the shit? Since when do you date guys like Benton?” I hold up my hands in front of me before she can say anything. “No, better yet, since when do you date?”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out. Then she frowns and shakes her head before walking over and sitting down by me. “To make a long story short, I went to Benton’s party with Taylor the other night and some stuff happened and … he kind of asked me to be his girlfriend.” Her shoulders slump as she blows out an exhale. “But it’s not real.”
It’s not real?
What the …? Huh?
“What’s not real? Wait. Did he, like, mess with you or something? Because, if so”—I crack my knuckles—“I’m gonna kick his ass.”
“No, it’s not like that,” she quickly tells me. “It’s just …” She heaves a frustrated breath. “You know the band Rebel Alyric Bliss?”
Man, she’s all over the place this morning, which is so unlike her.
“I know of them. They’re not really my style.” I pause. “Dude, where are you going with this? ’Cause you seem all over the place.”
“It’s just a little weird saying this aloud,” she admits. “I mean, when Benton first told me, I didn’t believe him.”
“Told you what?” I gesture for her to spit it out.
“That … he's the lead singer in the band," she mumbles. "And apparently, his managers want him to date a good girl to clean up his bad boy image, and he asked me to do it. Mostly because I was around at the right time, not because he, like, picked me specifically to do it or anything. But it’s so crazy. And he wants me to go on the road with his band which, FYI, are all his friends at school.” Words are rushing out of her so swiftly I can barely process.
“So, what you’re saying is that Benton, the guy we’ve gone to school with for years, is the lead singer of Rebel Alyric Bliss, and Wilder and Jackson and all those other douchebags he hangs out with are a part of the band? And no one else has caught on to this? Because, yeah, that seems a bit weird and unrealistic.” I don’t mean to sound rude, but I’m worried these guys might be messing with her.
“They’re not douchebags,” she insists. “Well, Benton doesn’t seem like one when you get to know him. I haven’t really gotten a chance to know his friends yet, but they seemed nice the other day when I agreed to be Benton’s fake girlfriend. And no one knows who they are because they’ve intentionally kept their identities a secret so they can live a normal life while they’re here and not touring.”
I sit in silence for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to approach this. “Okay … I guess I could see that being a possibility, but still … How did you end up agreeing to be his fake girlfriend and him trusting you enough to tell you who he really is? Or did he just randomly come up to you, tell you he’s in this band, and that he needs you to pretend to be his girlfriend? Because that seems even weirder.”
“It wasn’t random.” She gathers her hair into a messy bun and secures it with an elastic that’s around her wrist. “Like I said, I was at this party he was throwing.”
“Yeah, that part I’m still a little confused about.”
“I already told you I went with Taylor.”
“It still seems weird to me.”
A quiet sigh eases from her lips. “I was having a moment when I thought I wanted to try to be cool.”
I lift a brow. “And how’d that work out for you?”
“Well, at first it sucked. Everyone was staring and whispering about me. And then someone intentionally spilled their drink on my shirt. After that, things got”—she gets this weird look on her face—“interesting.”
“Interesting how?” I ask then hold up a hand. “Or do I even want to know?”
A blush rushes to her cheeks. “It’s not really important. It’s not even why I came in here to talk to you. I just want your advice on what I should do. Or, well, how I should ask Loki if it’s okay if I go on tour with Benton and his band this summer.”
She may have explained it to me, but it’s still hard to take in what she’s saying.
My sister, who spent her entire high school career striving to get straight A’s, who wants to start college this summer instead of in the fall like almost everyone else, is going to go on the road with a band and pretend to be the lead singer’s girlfriend?
It’s like I’ve freakin’ stepped into the Twilight Zone.
“If you ask Loki if you can go, he’ll probably say no,” I tell her truthfully. “But you’re almost eighteen so, technically, you don’t need his permission.”
She frowns. “I guess you’re right, but still … I want everyone to support me with my decisions.”
“We will,” I try to assure her. “Really, this decision might be the one I most support you with. A lot of your other decisions are way too responsible for me.”
A small smile touches her lips. “I think so, too … It�
��s kind of why I decided to do this. Although, I still can’t believe I’m going to do it. I don’t think it’ll feel real until it actually happens.” She glances at me. “I’m surprised you believed me so quickly.”
“You’re not really one to lie,” I point out. “It still seems a bit weird. And I don’t want to burst your bubble, because you’re clearly excited about this, but are you sure Benton was telling the truth?”
She nods then digs out her phone and taps a few buttons. “That’s him and the band.” She shows me the screen.
On it is a photo of the band Rebel Alyric Bliss, and if I look close enough … yep, that’s definitely Benton. But they look different enough that I wouldn’t even have thought twice if I didn’t know what Zhara just told me.
I shake my head, sort of shocked, and not because she’s telling the truth but over what she agreed to do. “Holy crap, I …” I shake my head again. “This is crazy.”
“I know,” she agrees, lowering her phone.
We sit in silence while I process the bigger picture. That Benton and his friends, who I thought were just a group of guys I went to high school with, are really in a band. A very popular band. And, while I don't know a lot about them and their music, I know a lot of girls at my school listen to them.
“So, are you for sure going to do it, then?” I ask, still a bit in shock. “I mean, pretend to be Benton’s fake girlfriend?”
She hesitates then nods. “I think so. I know it’s kind of out of character for me and everything.” She stares down at her hands. “Plus, this whole pretending to date thing … it seems like something out of a movie …” She trails off when I laugh under my breath.
I’m not trying to be a bitch. I just can’t help it. Not when I think of the deal West and I made, and how it’s kind of similar to her situation in its own way.
She gives me a confused look. “What’s so funny?”
I shrug, biting back my laughter. “It’s nothing.”
“Oh, come on; tell me. I told you my secret.”
I blow out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. But it’s not nearly as good as yours,” I inform her. She just grins like she’s about to hear some juicy gossip. “West and I made a deal last night to pretend to date each other.”
Signed with a Kiss: A Novel (Signed with a Kiss Series Book 1) Page 13