Vote Then Read: Volume III

by Aleatha Romig

  I run my hands through my hair. “Can’t you post the baby’s sex on Facebook like normal people do? Why are you throwing a big party?”

  I’m curious as to whether I’m having a godson or goddaughter, but they want to find out the sex with balloons filled with confetti. Chloe wouldn’t be into this shit. I pause.

  Why am I thinking about her and what she’d do if she were pregnant?

  “Lauren wanted a party. We’re having a party, so shut your mouth, or you won’t be the godfather,” Gage replies.

  Lauren glances at me from the passenger seat and scrunches her face up. “You wouldn’t be a third wheel if you found a girlfriend.”

  “I told you to find me a girlfriend. Not my problem you failed.”

  “Been there. Done that. Had to listen to too many women cry over the phone about you breaking their hearts. My job as your matchmaker is over. I’d love to say it’s been fun, but I’d be lying.” She studies me for a few moments. “Do you not want a relationship? Does commitment scare you?”

  “It’s not at the top of my priority list,” I answer with no shame.

  Commitment scares the shit out of me. I’ve never witnessed it firsthand. My mother turns a blind eye to my father’s affairs. Every Lane man has been an adulterer. The only man I’m close with who I’ve seen is capable of staying faithful is Gage.

  I’m not against commitment. I’m afraid I’ll fail at it.

  A hint of disappointment crosses her face before she sets her attention on Gage. “I told you he’d die old and alone.” She squeals. “I cannot wait to decorate my beachside villa in ten years.” She winks at me before whipping back around in her seat.

  “What does my love life and a beachside villa have to do with shit?” I question with confusion.

  Gage chuckles. “My girl over here made me bet that you wouldn’t have a serious relationship in the next ten years. If you don’t, I somehow owe her a beachside villa. Whatever the hell it is, it sounds expensive as fuck.”

  “You two bet on my love life?” I ask before rubbing my chin. “Better yet, why are you creeps talking about my love life? Has your bedroom talk become that boring?”

  “Far from it,” Gage answers. “Trust me; I couldn’t give two shits about who you’re banging or marrying, but she wouldn’t shut up about it. It’s easier to agree, so it’s what I did. If you ever do settle down, you’ll understand.”

  Lauren pats his shoulder. “Good man.” Her attention bounces to me. “So, keep being a heartbreaking whore.”

  “Oh, babe, say good-bye to your beachside shit. Kyle will be tied down before then,” Gage tells her.

  “And how are you so certain?” she asks with a raised brow.

  “He’s trying to get into his neighbor’s panties.”

  “Neighbor?” Lauren asks. “I need a name.”

  “Chloe Fieldgain,” Gage answers before I get the chance to tell him to keep out of my love life.

  “Uh … doesn’t she hate your guts?” Lauren questions.

  Lauren is unaware that Chloe was writing a story about her being assaulted by her old landlord. So far, with her family’s influence and our jobs, we’ve kept the details to a minimum. People know something happened, but unless Lauren opens up, they’ll never know everything.

  I grin. “You hated me once, and here we are, headed to a whatever-you-called-it party.”

  She narrows her eyes. “A gender reveal party.” She perks up in her seat. “Now, didn’t you and Chloe have a thing in high school that went south? Yes! I love me a good second-chance romance.” She kisses Gage’s shoulder. “Don’t I, babe?”

  Gage brakes at a Stop sign and stares at her with affection. “I wouldn’t call it a thing.”

  “Fuck off,” I hiss.

  “People call her the ice queen,” Lauren comments. “Like, all she does is hide behind her books and the newspaper she works for.”

  “I’m trying to break through the frost,” I explain.

  “You should invite her on a double date.”

  “He should the fuck not,” Gage says. “I’d rather buy you a beachside villa than be involved in Kyle’s girl drama like we’re teenagers.”

  That’s Gage. He’ll tell me when I’m being an idiot, but he isn’t one for heart-to-hearts unless it’s with Lauren.

  “Invite her on a double date,” Lauren demands.

  Gage smiles over at his fiancée. “The queen has spoken.”

  The party is being held on Lauren’s family’s property. There’s an endless amount of food, and I watch my best friend and his fiancée pop the balloon.

  Does Chloe want kids? My guess is yes since it seems like she frequently helps with her sister’s kids.

  The confetti is pink. The cake is pink.

  I’m having a goddaughter.

  By the end of the car ride home, I’ve decided I’m going to ask Chloe on a double date.

  9

  Chloe

  Kyle Calling.

  The Ignore button is hit.

  I need space to get my head straight before we talk. We haven’t done much of that since dinner at his parents’. He still tells me good morning, but it’s brief before he leaves for work. His truck was in the drive, but no lights were on in his house when I got home yesterday.

  Hours later, Gage’s truck pulled up, and Kyle stepped out. When he was unlocking his front door, Lauren yelled his name, ran up the porch steps, and handed him a pink balloon.

  He grabbed it, laughed, and hugged her.

  My phone rings again.

  Kyle Calling.

  I hit Ignore.

  It rings once more.

  Kyle again.

  “Jesus, what?” I answer.

  “You need to get to Garfield’s Grocery,” he says in a serious tone.

  “Why? I’m working.”

  “Trey was busted for shoplifting.”

  “Shit! Give me ten.”

  “Park in the rear lot, so no one sees you, and I’ll let you in.”

  Kyle is waiting for me when I pull into the parking lot. I speed-walk his way, and he moves to the side, letting me in without speaking. I curse with every step as I walk down a hallway lined with loaves of bread and pastries.

  Damn it, Trey.

  Why did he shoplift?

  Why didn’t he come to me if he needed money?

  Kyle leads me into a dimly lit office reeking of mothballs. Trey is sitting in a chair, and surprisingly, he’s not wearing handcuffs. Mr. Garfield, the store’s owner, is at his side, worry lining his wrinkled face. His wife is sitting in a chair behind an old desk, looking like she’s ready to rip Trey’s head off.

  I cast them a glance of apology, but only Mr. Garfield will make eye contact. Today isn’t the first time someone from my family has shoplifted from here. My mom and sister were regular thieves. Mr. Garfield let it slide for a while but eventually started calling the cops. They ended up banned from the store after the tenth occurrence. I haven’t been banned yet, but Mrs. Garfield keeps a watchful eye on me. Every visit, I slip extra cash in the tip jars at the registers to make up for my family’s theft. Mr. Garfield’s soul is kinder than his wife’s.

  “Seriously, Trey?” I snap with a stressed sigh as soon as the door slams shut behind me.

  Regret is clear on his face. Trey isn’t a troublemaker, but he’s a survivor.

  “Your family is filth,” Mrs. Garfield hisses. “Thinking they can take whatever they want.” Her glare cuts to Kyle. “I don’t know why this young man is helping you and that thief.”

  My apologetic face turns cold, and my nails bite into my palms as I clench my fists. Don’t say anything.

  If I lose my cool, she’ll take it out on Trey.

  “Enough, Mary,” Mr. Garfield warns his wife.

  Kyle steps to my side and looks in her direction. “Mrs. Garfield, don’t act like you’ve never needed a handout in your life.”

  I cringe at the word handout.

  My blood pressure rises. We don’t
need handouts.

  “I think they’ve had enough handouts,” Mary answers with a sneer.

  “And I think you need to grow a heart,” Kyle says.

  Mary strokes her throat and grimaces. “No offense, Officer, but you’re not the one losing money.”

  Tears prick at my eyes, but none of them will see them fall.

  “Money or not,” Kyle says, “he’s a kid.”

  I open my mouth, wanting to say something, but I’m not sure how I can justify Trey’s actions. They’re inexcusable.

  “Kid or not, he’s not innocent,” she continues. “Her family teaches their kids to become criminals at a young age.”

  Kyle looks at Trey. “Come on, let’s get out of here, so we don’t waste any more of their time.”

  Trey nervously stands up. He looks down in shame when our eyes meet, and my heart hurts for him. That was me so many years ago—surviving by any means necessary. The difference is, I had no one to go to for help. He has me.

  “What are you going to do with him?” I ask Kyle, finally gaining the ability to speak before opening my purse. “I’ll pay for whatever he took and extra for the inconvenience.”

  Kyle waves away my offer. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not arresting him.” He tilts his head toward Trey. “Stay out of trouble, or next time, I won’t be as nice.”

  “What?” I blurt out.

  “Officer Lane paid for what your nephew stole and extra for our troubles,” Mr. Garfield explains with a nervous smile. “We won’t be pressing charges against Trey.”

  I let out a huge breath. “Thank you so much. I’m so sorry, and it won’t happen again.”

  “I understand struggle, dear,” Mr. Garfield says. “Don’t let my wife get you down. She’s having a rough day. We both know you’re a good girl.”

  I look at Mary and lock eyes with her, hoping she’ll see my gratitude. “Thank you again.”

  She looks away as if the sight of me disgusts her and snarls at Trey. My anger heightens. I hate being looked at as if I’m beneath someone, but it really pisses me off when that disdain is directed at someone I care about.

  The three of us rush down the hall, and I don’t speak again until we’ve made it outside.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” I yell at Trey as we head to my car. “You could’ve been arrested!”

  Trey looks at me, his eyes flickering with regret and humiliation. “Gloria needed supplies for daycare and food. Mom wouldn’t give me the money, so I had to get them another way.”

  I swallow hard. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “I can’t always come to you. You bought us new clothes and paid for my football equipment. It’s not fair to always ask you for money.” His attention goes to the ground, and he kicks at pebbles with his shoe. “It’s pathetic enough that Mom always begs you for it and then spends it on booze.”

  “I would much rather give you the money than her, Trey. I give her money to help you and Gloria. Don’t ever feel ashamed about asking me for help. Do you hear me? If you or Gloria need something, you come to me. You don’t shoplift!”

  Kyle clears his throat, and we both look at him. I forgot he was here.

  He tips his head toward the corner of the parking lot and focuses on me. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

  “Of course.” I grab my keys from my purse and hand them to Trey. “I’ll meet you in the car in a minute.”

  Trey grabs them and walks away. I scrub at my eyes before dragging my hands over my face and meet Kyle. We’re facing each other, and his hands settle on my shoulders before he takes a step back, as if he’s inspecting me.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yes, just a little pissed off. I can’t believe Trey would shoplift. I’ve told him a million times, if he needs something, call me. Instead, he steals, proving to everyone that we’re all the same.”

  He lowers his hands to run them over my arms. “Don’t you dare listen to that old bat, you hear me? Block out every fucking word she said to you.”

  “What she said wasn’t a lie,” I mutter.

  “The fuck it is. The mistakes and wrongdoings of your family don’t define you. Who they are is not you. What I see when I look at you is a strong woman, a woman who fights for what she wants and takes on responsibilities that aren’t hers to make children’s lives better.”

  I don’t want his words to make me feel better, but they do.

  He’s giving me all the feels.

  How is this asshole I thought I hated giving me all these good feels?

  I inhale a deep breath, and when I move to open my purse, his hands drop, breaking our connection.

  “How much do I owe you?”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I can pay for my family’s shit, Kyle.”

  His eyes soften. “I never said you couldn’t. It’s already taken care of.” He whistles and tilts his head toward my car. “Get Trey out of here before Mrs. Garfield comes out with her shotgun.”

  I frown and hitch my bag up my shoulder. “Fine, but we’re talking about this later.”

  He smiles. “You’re always welcome in my home.”

  10

  Chloe

  Age Fourteen

  My sister is having a baby.

  A baby boy, to be exact.

  She won’t tell me who the father is, but I’ve heard her scream at him and demand money over the phone.

  Since Claudia doesn’t know anything about babies, I checked out books from the library for her, receiving quite the curious look from the assistant librarian. Claudia threw them across the room and said she’d know how to take care of her baby when he got here. So, I took them to my room and read them myself.

  Someone in this house needs to be educated on what to do with a newborn.

  Sam’s visits are limited now. All they do is argue when he comes over. Him not coming around makes me sad. He is nice to me and helps me with my homework. He cares about my interests and never tells me my dreams are stupid. Sam is who I want my father to be.

  A month later, Sam stops coming over permanently.

  Age Fifteen

  “Hey there, stranger.”

  My head flies up at the sound of the voice I’ve missed.

  Sam stands in my doorway, looking clean-cut in a suit and with a ball cap over his head. It’s rare seeing him without a hat on.

  “Hi,” I answer in surprise, unable to hide my excitement. “Long time no see.”

  He has been nonexistent in our lives for nearly a year. I thought he was gone for good, so the sight of him brings nothing but joy to my face. He’s never met Trey, who came into the world three months ago. He did send a care package with no return address. A note was attached, saying he wanted Trey to have the baby essentials.

  “Sorry about that,” he answers. “Life gets in the way sometimes.”

  I nod, though I don’t understand. Something I’ve come to learn is, if someone wants time with someone, they make it, no matter what. That means Sam didn’t want to spend time with anyone in our home—including me.

  Having men come and go isn’t out of the ordinary. I’ve never met my father. My knowledge of him is through old photographs and the few choice words my mother shouts when I ask about him.

  Sam steps farther into my room. “Your sister said you’re very helpful with Trey.”

  The baby books I read have been put to good use since I’m Trey’s main caretaker. Not his mother. I get up with him at night and change all his diapers, and since she refuses to breastfeed, in fear it will mess up her “good tits,” I feed him his formula.

  I shrug and hold back the urge to tell Sam that. I want him to be proud of me, but Claudia will kill me. “I try.”

  He smiles. “You’re such a good girl, Chloe. I’m sure she appreciates your help greatly.”

  I snort. “Claudia doesn’t appreciate anything.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year.”

  I
tuck my legs underneath my butt. “So then, why do you like her? Why don’t you find a nicer girlfriend?”

  It’s been a while since I’ve asked him, but I don’t understand how a decent man like him can like her. There must be something wrong with him. Broken people seek out other broken people. I see it every day of my life and wonder how I’m ever going to find someone nice to take on the job of being with someone as broken as I am.

  He shrugs. “People like people for different reasons.”

  “You like her because she’s pretty … and she has sex with you.”

  He chuckles and slides his hands into his pants pockets.

  “You two seem so different,” I go on.

  “Opposites attract sometimes,” he argues.

  “Duh,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Opposites have sex with each other, but—”

  He cuts me off. “You seem to know an awful lot about sex for someone your age.”

  I point out my bedroom door. “Uh … have you seen the people I live with?”

  He walks into my room and sits down on the edge of the bed, concern now etched on his face. “None of their boyfriends have ever … they’ve never touched you or talked to you inappropriately, have they?”

  “No,” I rush out.

  They’ve looked but never touched.

  “You’ll tell me if they do, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise,” I say softly.

  He gives me a gentle smile. “You know, you’re going to make something of yourself when you get older. I’m certain of it.”

  His words come out with pride.

  They fill me with pride.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “I want to be a writer when I grow up.”

  This spikes his interest. I love when he seems interested in me.

  “Yeah? What type of writer?”

  “I don’t know. I like reading the newspapers.”

  He chuckles. “Whoa. The pay for the amount of work is chump change.”

  I frown. “Not everything is always about money.”