Break of Day

by Mari Madison

  “Not as much as I love you,” Piper declared, abandoning her board and crawling over to me. She slipped into my lap and curled her hand around my neck. “You know,” she said, a teasing look in her eyes, “we haven’t officially christened this place yet . . .”

  “That’s true actually,” I agreed, kissing her soundly on the mouth. “Maybe we should . . .” I moved to her jawline. “Get that . . .” Her neck. “Over with—”

  Her cell phone broke into song. I groaned.

  “Ignore that. Please.”

  She gave me a rueful look, then pulled the phone from her pocket. Her playful expression faded as her eyes caught the caller ID and she pressed answer.

  “Hello? . . . Yes. This is Piper Strong.”

  I cocked my head in question. She held out a finger to tell me to wait. Her expression was ashen and my heart stirred with worry.

  “Okay. Yes. I understand. Thank you for letting me know.” She hung up the phone.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “My mother,” she said in a dull voice. “She checked herself out of Safe Harbor this afternoon.”

  “But she still had a week left I thought!”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh, Piper . . .”

  I watched as she rose to her feet, wobbling a little on unsteady legs. “I thought she was doing so well . . .” she moaned. “She was so close to finishing . . .”

  I leapt to my feet, pulling her into my arms. She laid her head against my chest and I could feel her small sobs ratcheting against me. “Do you know where she would go?”

  “Hopefully her new apartment. But a better guess would be David’s. He’s her boyfriend. And, well, her . . . supplier.”

  “Let’s go get her,” I said. “I’ll pull Fiona around. You lock up.”

  “No.” To my surprise, she shook her head.

  “No?”

  She gave me an apologetic look. “I mean, I appreciate you offering. I really do. But this is something I need to do myself. She and I have a lot to discuss, as you know.”

  I wanted to argue. I didn’t want her to leave—to have to face her mother, and maybe this drug dealer guy David, alone. But the look in her eyes told me I needed to let her go.

  “Okay,” I said, kissing her on each cheek. “I understand. But call me if you need me, okay? Or if you feel unsafe? I’ll have my phone on me. I can meet you anywhere. Anytime. Just call.”

  “I will.” She looked up at me, her eyes filled with gratitude mixed with worry and sadness. “I appreciate that. And I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to ruin our night.”

  “We have a thousand nights in front of us,” I assured her. “A million nights. Just go and do what you need to do. Make sure your mother’s safe. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  We embraced and she pulled away, giving me one last rueful smile before heading out the door. I watched her go, my heart wrenching in my chest, wishing there was something I could do for her. For her mother. But I knew better than anyone that you couldn’t help someone who wasn’t ready for that help. I just hoped Piper understood that now, as well. I couldn’t bear to see the look on her face when her mother disappointed her, all over again.

  I settled down to finish the board I was working on, but my mind was no longer on the task and I eventually put it away. Maybe I’d go grab some tacos from the nearby takeout Mexican place for dinner. I could get a few extra, too, in case Piper was able to get back at a reasonable hour. And then maybe we could—

  A knock sounded at the door. I frowned. Was it Piper? Had she forgotten something? But no, she had a key. I rose to my feet, brushing myself off. “Just a minute,” I said, walking into the front room and peering through the window to see who was on the other side. It took me only a moment to recognize my visitor.

  My mother.

  Shit. I let out a heavy breath as I watched her, her eyes darting around the really-not-that-seedy neighborhood with great unease. For a moment I considered pretending that I wasn’t here, but she called my bluff before I could make it.

  “I know you’re in there,” she called through the door. “I saw that thing you call a car down the street.”

  Stifling a groan, I pulled the door open and stepped aside, allowing her to enter. “Well, this is a surprise,” I declared as she walked in, watching her glance around the room with a pinched nose.

  “Oh, I just figured I’d come down to see what all my money was going toward these days,” she replied, her eyes roving over the surf posters we’d hung on the walls. Then she turned to me. “How . . . fun!” she pronounced in a voice that made it clear she thought it was anything but. “And . . . so . . . colorful, too!”

  “Thank you,” I said, not taking the bait. “We’ve been working hard. Looks like, depending on the insurance and such, we should be ready to open sometime next week.”

  “How wonderful,” she declared. “Just wonderful.” She walked over to the counter and ran her hand along the side, before turning back to me. “And what are your plans for the grand opening?”

  I shrugged. “Beth suggested News 9 do a feature on it, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Oh, definitely. We’ll definitely do that. But we should think bigger, too. This is such a marvelous gift to the community, I’m sure all the stations and the newspapers, too, are going to want to cover the opening.”

  “You think?” I looked at her warily.

  “Oh, definitely!” she declared. “In fact, you should hold a huge press conference on opening day. You can invite all the poor children from that home to come and introduce them to the media. They would eat it up, I’m sure!”

  I considered this for a moment. Oddly, considering the source, this actually sounded like a great idea. “It’d take a lot of organizing to get everyone here, though,” I reminded her. “And we’re stretching things pretty thin between Piper and me already.”

  “Oh, leave that part to me,” my mother said, waving a hand. “Publicity is my specialty.”

  “Really? You want to help?”

  “Of course, sweetheart! Whatever I can do! Why, I want all of San Diego to know about this wonderful new Anderson/Martin philanthropic venture.”

  Wait, what?

  “Um,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her, warning bells going off in my head. “Did you just say Anderson/ Martin? What do the Martins have to do with any of this?”

  My mother’s smile dipped to a frown. “Come on, Asher. Who do you think paid for all of this?”

  Oh God. “I thought . . . we did.”

  “Well, we did. With money we acquired from Martin Enterprises in exchange for ad time on News 9.” She shrugged. “In fact, if it weren’t for Sarah and her father’s extreme generosity and philanthropic spirit, we absolutely wouldn’t have been able to get any of this off the ground.” She gave me a saccharine sweet smile.

  I stared at her, my stomach roiling with nausea. I couldn’t even speak. Suddenly all the puzzle pieces were sliding into place, and it was making a pretty ugly picture. I should have known my mother had something up her sleeve when she’d been so willing to hand over the start-up capital. But I had no idea she would have gone this far.

  “Come on, Asher,” she said, now giving me a disgusted look. “Where did you think the money came from? A tree?”

  “No. But . . .” I didn’t know what to say. Half of me wanted to spit in her face. Tell her to take the Martins’ money and stuff it up her ass. But how could I? If I did, the school would never be able to open. Which, of course, was what she was counting on when working this clever trap in the first place.

  I thought back to Toby’s skeptical face. She was betting on me failing. Walking away when things got tough. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let her think she was right about me.

  It’s not a big deal, I tried to tell myself. So they’ve put money in. So wha
t? It doesn’t affect what you’re trying to do here. You’re still going to get to help the kids. That’s all that matters in the end.

  “Anyway, back to the press conference,” she said. “We’ll invite all the press from all of San Diego and you and Sarah can answer all their questions about the school.”

  Oh, no. No, no, no.

  “Absolutely not,” I declared. “Sarah has nothing to do with this.”

  “Her family paid for it!” my mother reminded me, her voice rising. “You would not have a school without her!”

  I squeezed my hands into fists, anger rioting through me. How stupid I’d been! To not have realized she was playing me from the start. Just like she’d played me my entire life. To her, I was still that trained monkey—and she wanted a show.

  “Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “Sarah can stand up with us, too. It’ll be the three of us. But I’m not leaving Piper out. This wouldn’t even be happening without her—she deserves some credit.”

  My mother’s eyes narrowed. She’d been amused before. Now she was pissed. “Look, Asher. I’m not going to lie. After you caused that scene at the country club, I hired a private investigator to look in on this girl. Did you know her mother has been in and out of jail on drug charges and prostitution for the last twenty years?”

  “So what? Piper is not her mother.”

  “Trash begets trash, Asher, and it’s time you learned that. I’ve overlooked your indiscretions in the past. I understand a young man must sow his wild oats. But you’re twenty-nine years old now. The time for play is over. You are my only son and you stand to inherit News 9 someday. It’s time you start taking that seriously. And that means not dragging our family’s lifework through the mud.

  “Without Sarah’s family News 9 will not survive. And everything I’ve worked for will have been for nothing. You need to stop thinking about your dick for once in your life and start thinking of the good of this family.”

  Fury exploded within me. “Just like you did, right, Mother?” I snarled.

  Her hand shot out, connecting with my face before I could even identify the movement. As I reached up to touch my stinging cheek, her steely gray eyes set on me. “I did what I had to do to keep this station on the air,” she growled. “Now it’s your turn.”

  I watched as she walked to the door, yanking it open. Before stepping out, she turned back to me, her face twisting into an ugly smile. “I know you’ll make the right choice, sweetheart,” she said. “After all, you don’t want to upset your father, now do you?”

  And with that, she strutted out the door, knowing she’d won, yet again.

  thirty

  PIPER

  I made it to my mother’s new apartment in record time. But when I banged on the door, as I suspected, there was no answer. So with a heavy heart, I headed to David’s house instead.

  David lived at the end of a dead-end street, in a small neighborhood with rundown houses, most of them abandoned. I’d only been there once before, years ago, when my mother had gotten herself in a bad way and couldn’t figure out how to start her car. I still remembered the smell of the place like it was yesterday, however. A kind of burnt rubber stench permeating the residence. And that wasn’t half as disturbing as the people who had been there. People just hanging out, their dead eyes staring listlessly at the television set, which hadn’t even been turned on. It was horrifying, to say the least, and at the time I had made a vow to never return.

  So much for that.

  With trembling hands, I walked up the front steps and reached up to bang on the door. At first, there was no answer. But I caught sight of my mother’s car parked in the street and so I banged again.

  “Hold your horses, I’ll be there in a second.”

  The door squeaked open a crack. A pair of watery blue eyes peeked out from the other side. “What do you—” David started to say, then stopped. “Oh. It’s you.” He pulled the door open wide. “She’s in the kitchen. Rambling on like a crazy bitch. I need you to get her out of here. She’s annoying my customers.”

  I pushed past him, not dignifying him with a response, making my way to where I remembered the kitchen to be, stepping over piles of trash—some of them possibly people. The stench of burning rubber rose to my nose again—eau du burnt meth chic—and my stomach lurched in disgust.

  Oh, Mom. Why? You were doing so well.

  I stepped into the kitchen. My mom was sitting there, eating a bowl of cereal. She looked well, surprisingly. She’d gained a few pounds in rehab and her eyes looked less sunken and less shadowed than they’d been.

  She looked up, surprised. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

  “I’ve come to take you back to Safe Harbor.”

  She shook her head. “I’m done with that place.”

  “Mom, you have a week left of treatment.”

  “Don’t need it. I’m already cured.”

  “Why are you here then?”

  She frowned. “I was just visiting David. Am I not allowed to visit friends?”

  “Not if those friends are drug dealers, no.”

  She rose to her feet. “I’m not doing drugs anymore,” she shot back indignantly. “I told you—I’m cured!”

  “Okay.” I forced out a breath. “Then can I give you a ride home? Maybe buy you some groceries?”

  Her expression softened. “Thank you, sweetie, but I have my car. Though . . .” She gave me a searching look. “Now that you mention it, I am a little short on cash right now. Maybe you could spare a few bucks for gas? And food, of course. I’ll swing by the grocery store on the way home.”

  I bit my lower lip. Sometimes I wondered if she actually believed the lies she told me herself. That she was truly delusional enough to think if I gave her money she’d spend it on food and gas. I had to hope that was true—that she wasn’t purposely trying to scam me each and every time.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t give you money. At least not until you complete your rehab. That was the deal.”

  “I did complete it!” she snapped, her calm façade crumbling away. “And I’m fine! I’m telling you. I mean—look at me! I’m here at David’s and I’m eating fucking cereal! Everyone here is high—except me!”

  “Yeah, ’cause you don’t have any money,” I shot back, anger rising inside of me. “I’m not stupid, Mom!”

  “No. You’re not stupid,” she jeered. “You’re just a self-righteous bitch! You think you’re better than me? With that fancy job and that rich boyfriend of yours? How dare you come here—to my world—to tell me how to live my life? Especially seeing as you’re the one who fucked it all up to begin with.”

  “Mom . . .”

  “I lied for you. I went to prison for you. I spent years locked up so you wouldn’t have a black spot on your record. What would your fancy little job or your rich little boyfriend say if they knew the truth about you? That you murdered your own brother!”

  I flinched, her words twisting in my gut like knives as panic rose to my throat again. In an instant, my mind flashed back to that night. That terrible night.

  Piper! Wake up! Where’s your brother?

  Where the HELL is your brother?

  Then, out of nowhere, Asher’s voice broke through the scene.

  Addicts never take responsibility for their actions. But that doesn’t make them not responsible.

  I swallowed hard. I squared my shoulders. I looked my mother in the eyes. “I did not murder Michael,” I said.

  “You were supposed to be watching him!”

  “You were supposed to be watching him. You were his mother. But you chose to leave him. You chose your addiction over your own son.”

  She stared at me, horror clear in her eyes. But I wasn’t finished yet.

  “Yes, I fell asleep. And I will live with that guilt every da
y for the rest of my goddamned life. But I was not the adult in that situation. I was not the one who should have been in charge. All my life I’ve heard you tell me that you lied for me, that you went to prison to protect me. But that’s bullshit, Mom. All you wanted to do was protect yourself. Because if you didn’t make up that story? I wouldn’t have been the one charged with murder. You would.”

  My mother’s face crumbled. She fell back in her chair. Her skin was white as a ghost’s and her whole body was shaking.

  “Piper . . .” she tried, but I shook my head.

  “I’m done letting you guilt me into feeding your disease. I’m done lying to you to make you feel better about yourself. You either go back to rehab and face your demons for real or I am cutting you off forever. Either way—you will never, ever blame me for Michael’s death—ever again.”

  I swallowed hard, going silent, waiting for her answer as my heart thrummed madly in my chest. I tried to tell myself that her response didn’t matter—that I had stood up for myself for once in my life—forced her to listen to the truth and that was a step in and of itself. But deep down, I wanted her to hear me—to really hear me. Because until she did—until she accepted what happened in the past—she could never truly move forward. Just as I hadn’t been able to—until Asher and that boat set me free.

  For a moment, she said nothing, just stared at her hands. Then, finally, she rose to her feet.

  “I think I’m . . . ready to go back,” she said, her voice cracking on the words. “To Safe Harbor, I mean.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Please . . . Piper . . . can you take me back?”

  I pulled her into my arms. She sobbed against my chest and tears fell from my own eyes as well. I stroked her hair—which was still so brittle and thin—just as my mother herself. My heart wrenched in my chest. So many years—so many years just wasted. But now, finally, a chance to start again.

  “I’ll take you back,” I said. “I will always take you back.”