Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2)

by Sabrina Stark

  Either way, I wouldn't figure it out today. I trudged upstairs and got ready for work.

  Chapter 52

  "Guess what?" Josh said.

  From the look on his face, it was obviously good news. "You got all A's again?"

  "No." He gave me an aw-shucks smile. "Yeah, well, I did. But this is even better."

  I gave Grandma a sideways glance. She hadn't said one word about the so-called good news since I'd arrived. Her lips were pursed as she crammed another flyer into its envelope.

  The flyer – an advertisement for some fictional cat-training video – showed two fluff-ball kittens surrounded by loose yarn and shredded bed pillows.

  "This is bullshit," Grandma said as she folded another flyer and crammed it, hard, into its envelope. "Everyone knows you can't train a cat. Whoever did this flyer is a dipshit."

  As the dipshit designer – even if Grandma wasn't aware of this fact – I felt compelled to disagree. "Sure you can." I pointed to the promotional text. "Nine out of ten vets agree. See?"

  Grandma gave a dismissive snort. "Then they're dipshits, too."

  "Vets are never dipshits," I said.

  "Yeah? Then the company's full of shit. Probably made the whole thing up. Bet they wouldn't know a real cat if it bit 'em on the face." She frowned. "In fact, I wish a cat would bite 'em on the face. Would serve 'em right."

  Without thinking, I reached a hand up to my face. When Grandma looked up, I pretended to scratch my nose.

  Actually, there was no such company, and no such product. But that was my little secret, along with the fact that Grandma's so-called job was a sham. She refused to accept charity of any sort, even from me.

  She was a smart lady, but had no real job skills, no car, and no driver's license or interest in getting one.

  So a couple years ago, I'd invented this little envelope-stuffing job. It wasn't much, but it paid her rent, and kept her entertained. Today, the entertainment seemed more of the kill-the-graphic-designer variety.

  I glanced at the flyer. "I thought you liked cats."

  "Yeah, and I like 'em too much to subject 'em to this horseshit." She glanced down to the paper in her hand. "Precocious to perfect, my ass."

  "Hey," Josh said, "doesn't anyone care what I have to say?"

  Oh, I cared alright. But not in the way Josh thought. He was happy. Grandma was mad. And soon, I'd be in the middle. And there was only one person who caused this particular dynamic.

  My mom.

  I turned to Josh. "Sorry," I said. "What's your news?"

  He grinned. "Mom's invited us over for Thanksgiving."

  It was official. Thanksgiving was my least favorite holiday, ever. "Oh that's really nice," I said. "But we already have plans."

  "That's the best part," Josh said. "She said we could do it on Friday. You know, the day after?"

  I blew out a breath. Two days of family fun. How did I ever get so lucky?

  Josh's smile faded. "Aren't you happy?"

  "Yeah. Totally." I summoned up a smile of my own. "But you know how hectic her schedule is."

  Boozing, sleeping all day, hanging out with random losers, it was a real time sink. It didn't just keep her away from her kids. It kept her away from gainful employment, which was probably just fine with her.

  "I mean, it sounds like fun," I said, "but we probably shouldn’t get our hopes up."

  "She's not gonna cancel this time," Josh said. "She promised."

  I gave a small nod. "That's good."

  "Remember that last apple pie?" Josh said. "Oh man, that was the best, ever."

  I nodded. I remembered the pie perfectly. I was the one who made it. Mommy Dearest? She was too busy being passed out on the kitchen floor. It was three o'clock in the morning, and I'd come home from waitressing find her lying there with a half-empty bottle of apple schnapps.

  It would be funny if it weren't so pathetic.

  "Maybe she'll make it again," Josh said as he got up from his seat and headed off toward the bathroom."

  "Or maybe," Grandma muttered after the door closed behind him, "some cat'll chew her face off first."

  I felt myself nod. Better hers than mine.

  On my way out, Grandma handed me a huge white envelope containing something flat and stiff. "Just in case," she said.

  I looked down. "Just in case what?"

  "In case they don't pay. You know, the house-sitting people."

  "But they did pay," I said.

  "Yeah, but you got another payment due next week, right?"

  I felt my eyebrows furrow. "Yeah?"

  "So, if they don't pay, you give 'em that."

  I made a move to open the envelope.

  "Hey, not in front of the kid," Grandma said.

  I glanced past her, into the cottage, where Josh still was still sitting at the kitchen table. He caught my eye and grinned. The way it looked, Grandma's secret message wasn't as secret as she seemed to think.

  "I'll open it when I get back," I assured her.

  "Good girl."

  When I pulled into the Parkers' driveway twenty minutes later, I couldn't wait a second longer. I opened the envelope and pulled out what was inside.

  As I looked down, I couldn't help but smile.

  It was a single sheet of lined notebook paper. Pasted crookedly across the sheet were a series of capital letters, obviously cut from the local newspaper.

  Unable to resist, I read the ransom note aloud in my best tough-guy voice. "Pay up, or the dog gets it."

  I was still laughing when I walked into the house.

  Chapter 53

  It was just two days before Thanksgiving and almost a month since I'd seen Lawton. My days hadn't changed much, but at least I had other things to worry about.

  The Parkers' next payment never arrived, just like Grandma predicted. And even after multiple phone calls, I hadn't heard a single word back from either Mrs. Parker or her so-called financial manager.

  In a desperate bid to forget all my troubles, I loaded up Chucky and took him to the park. It was freezing cold and gloomy as hell, but it was better than sitting around someone else's house moping all day. Or at least, if nothing else, it was a change of scenery.

  I was walking Chucky around the nature trail when I spotted a familiar form up ahead. My heart flipped, and my breath caught. I'd recognize him anywhere, even in the dark long-sleeve shirt and silky black running pants.

  Lawton. He wasn't walking. And he wasn't running. In fact, he wasn't moving at all. He stood, utterly still, in the middle of the trail.

  I stopped in my tracks. He met my gaze, his expression anguished. I glanced over my shoulder, back toward my car. I could scurry back to it and leave right now. But then what? I'd have to face him sooner or later. So I squared my shoulders and marched forward.

  His dark hair was a tousled mess, and his eyes were haunted as he watched me approach. He said nothing, but his gaze said it all.

  Desperation radiated off him in waves. I'd seen him in virtually every scenario, not just in person, but on the Internet too. I'd seen him flirty. I'd seen him sexy. I'd seen him beat some guy twice his size to a bloody pulp.

  I'd never seen him like this.

  Out in front of me, Chucky was going nuts, straining at his leash and whining for Lawton's notice. Slowly, Lawton's gaze dipped to Chucky, and I saw the barest hint of a sad smile.

  When Chucky barreled into Lawton a moment later, there wasn't much I could do, short of yanking Chucky backward and prying him loose.

  But somehow, I just didn't have the heart. So I stood, silently off to the side, while Lawton crouched down and ruffled Chucky's fur.

  A moment later, I heard the crinkle of packaging and joyful yips that somehow managed to tear my heart out. He still carried doggie snacks, even after all this time?

  But true to his promise, Lawton didn't say a single word or give me so much as a wave.

  Gently, I picked up Chucky and cradled him against me, meeting Lawton's gaze one last time befo
re continuing down the trail with Chucky in my arms and his leash dragging behind us.

  When I rounded the bend a few minutes later, I saw Lawton out of the corner of my eye. He still hadn't moved. He stood, facing the same exact same direction, the empty doggie-treat bag hanging loose from his fingers.

  When I'd moved beyond the line of sight, I set Chucky down and trudged forward once again, feeling hot tears slide down my cold face. When I completed the circuit, Lawton was gone.

  When my phone rang later that afternoon, I couldn't help but dive for it. I wasn't sure what I expected. A return-call from the Parkers? A call from Lawton after all? Or maybe just Keith, calling me into work or threatening to fire me again.

  But when I checked the display, what I saw there made me groan aloud. It was Loretta, again.

  She'd been calling me every few days, switching what I was supposed to bring and pretending it was my fault for the mix-up. Salad, dessert, salad, dessert – I was getting whiplash just thinking about it.

  In the end, I'd decided to play it safe. I'd purchased everything for both, not that I could truly afford it. But I needed a peaceful Thanksgiving, not just for my sake, but for Josh's.

  Still, I couldn't bring myself to answer that call. Not this time. Seeing Lawton today had sucked all the juice right out of me, and I seriously doubted my ability to take her crap without giving some right back in return. So I let it to go voicemail and listened to the message as soon as the phone beeped.

  "Chloe," she said. "This is Loretta. I know you're there. But fine, if you've got nothing better to do than disrespect my time, I guess I'll just relay everything in a message."

  She sighed loudly into the phone. "One – you're bringing salad and dessert. Don't forget. Two – try to be on time, will you? It's not fair to the rest of us when you keep us waiting. Three – you mentioned bringing a guest, but I haven't heard a single word since then, so I'm assuming you're coming alone. Four – for God's sake, don't dress like a slob, alright? I want a nice Thanksgiving dinner for once, and I won't have you ruining it by not taking it seriously. And don't bother calling me back. I'm busy too, you know."

  When the message ended, I tossed the phone onto the sofa. Chucky, stretched out on the easy chair, lifted his head and gave me a baleful look.

  "Yeah," I said. "I know."

  Chapter 54

  Call me anytime. Day, night, middle of the night. I don't care. Just call me, okay?

  Sitting in my car, I replayed Lawton's words. I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time. Only three minutes had passed since the last time I'd checked.

  It was three minutes too long.

  Remembering Loretta's warnings, I wore a semi-formal green dress with long sleeves and a scooped neckline. No jeans today, not if I knew what was good for me.

  My Thanksgiving salad sat in the passenger's seat, wedged in a cardboard box to keep it from tipping. A prepackaged cheesecake sat on the passenger's side floor, with an apple cobbler balanced on top of it.

  One salad, two desserts, and twenty minutes to get there. I glanced again at my phone. Another minute gone. If I wasn't on the road in like two seconds, I'd be late.

  It shouldn't be a big deal. But I knew all too well that it was. With Loretta, everything was a big deal.

  I turned the ignition key yet again, praying for some sort of miracle. Why, I had no idea. In at least a dozen attempts, the car hadn't given any sign of starting.

  All it gave was an empty clicking sound that told me that unless I was planning to dine in the Parkers' driveway, my odds of a Thanksgiving dinner weren't looking too good.

  If it weren't for Josh, I wouldn’t care. Going to my Dad's house – correction, Loretta's house, where my Dad lived – was never my idea of a good time.

  But I had to go. It was stupid, really. Loretta didn't truly want me there. Even my Dad was indifferent at best. Still, there'd be hell to pay if I cancelled or worse, didn't show at all. And the person paying would be Josh.

  I ran through my options. Call Erika? No, she was off skiing. Call a tow truck? What for? Even if they got here in time, and were able to start the car, there'd be no guarantee it wouldn't stall along the way. Besides, I couldn’t afford a tow truck, especially at holiday rates.

  I tried the ignition another time. "C'mon," I said. "Just start, okay? Please?"

  It didn't.

  Again, I thought of Lawton's words.

  I couldn't do it. I couldn’t call him.

  Instead, I picked up my cell phone and dialed a number that was only slightly less scary. Thankfully, it was my dad, and not Loretta, who answered the phone.

  "Hey Dad," I said, "I ran into a little problem, and I'm hoping you can do me a favor?"

  Long pause. "What kind of favor?"

  "Nothing big," I said. "It's just that my car won't start."

  Silence.

  I cleared my throat. "But I'd really like to make it out there."

  More silence.

  "So," I continued in a rush, "do you think you might be able, if it's not too much trouble, come and pick me up?"

  Long pause. "Now?"

  "Well, yeah. I mean, actually the sooner the better." I tried to sound chipper. "I'm all ready, and I've got the salad and desserts. It's just that –"

  "Hang on," he said.

  In the background, I heard muffled voices. I could almost see him, covering the phone like he used to when my parents were still married, and another bill collector had tracked them down at our latest rental.

  It was nice to know I rated in the same category as collection agencies.

  A moment later, I heard jostling on the other end, followed by Loretta's clipped voice. "I should've known you'd pull something like this."

  Oh God. Why had he put her on?

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Like what?"

  "Don’t sigh at me," she said. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

  "What?" I asked.

  "You still can't stomach the thought of sharing your Daddy, can you?"

  Daddy? I hadn't called him that since – well, never, at least not that I remembered. "No," I said. "It's nothing like that. It's just that my car won't start, and –"

  "And what?" she said. "You want to pull him away? You want him all to yourself? Is that it?"

  "No," I stammered. "Of course not."

  "Well, I'm not falling for it."

  "Honest," I said, hearing a hitch in my voice that made me feel about five years old. "I wouldn’t be calling if I had any other choice."

  "Chloe," she said, in that overly patient tone of hers. "In life, there are always choices."

  What the hell did that mean? If I chose to shove a turkey up her ass sideways, was that a choice? Even in the relatively cool car, my face was burning. From rage or embarrassment, I didn't know. Desperately, I searched for a solution that wouldn't send Loretta over the edge.

  Obviously, my dad wouldn't be coming, and I knew better than to ask Loretta. Other than Josh, who was way too young to drive, this only left one person – Lauren, Loretta's natural daughter.

  Lauren was about my age. We'd never been friends, but we weren't exactly enemies either. I'd once given her a ride to the airport. That had to count for something, right?

  "Is Lauren there?" I said.

  "Are you forgetting? She goes by Lauren Jane now."

  "I'm sorry. But maybe she could come get me?"

  "Oh, so now you want to pull her away too? Well let me tell you something. I'm not sending my daughter out on a day like this."

  "A day like what?" I looked around. The air was cool, but the sky was sunny. "It's the warmest Thanksgiving I can remember."

  "Thank you, Chloe, for that weather report."

  I choked down the bile and tried one more time. My voice sounded very small as I said, "Can't anyone come and get me?"

  "The only person left is me," she said. "And I've been cooking since the crack of dawn. So now you want me to run a taxi service too?" She made a so
und of disgust. "I told your Dad you'd try something like this." She sighed into the phone. "What have I ever done to deserve this?"

  I held the phone away from my ear as if the physical distance could keep the poison of her words from invading my skull. I didn't know what to say. I should've called a cab. No amount of money was worth this.

  Like I could afford a cab on Thanksgiving, assuming they were even running.

  "Here," Loretta said to someone on her end. "You talk to her. I shouldn’t have to deal with this."

  A moment later, I heard Josh's hesitant voice. "Chloe?"

  "Yeah?"

  "You're still coming, aren't you?"

  "Sure," I said. "Definitely." I closed my eyes. "It's just my car isn't exactly cooperating."

  He lowered his voice so low, I could barely hear him. "You mean it?"

  "Yeah. Of course."

  In the background, I heard Loretta's voice off somewhere in the distance. I couldn't make out the words, but her tone was all too familiar.

  "How mad is she?" I asked. "Scale of one to ten."

  "A hundred," Josh said without any trace of humor.

  I should've known. My call had only made it worse. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Don't worry. I'll be there," I told him. And I would be, even if I had to walk there, food and all.

  "I'm supposed to tell you," he said in a shaky voice, "that if you can't make it here by noon to not bother."

  "She's kidding, right?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Shit," I muttered.

  His voice was quiet. "Yeah."

  Don't worry, I'll be there." I swallowed. "But I've gotta go. Alright?"

  "That's good. Because remember the thing with Mom? You know, tomorrow?"

  "Yeah. I remember. Don't worry. I'll be there too." I tried to sound cheerful. "Just like we talked about, okay?"

  "Actually," he said, "she called a couple minutes ago. She's got this other thing she forgot about, so you don't need to worry about tomorrow. I just thought you'd want to know."

  "Oh," I said. "Well, I'm sure she really wanted to see us."

  "Yeah. I guess."