Love Me, Love Me Not (Incongruent Figures #1)

by S. M. Koz

  “They’re not billionaires.”

  I actually don’t know how much money the Campbells have, but I doubt they have enough to own a small country. He’s just a psychiatrist and she sells art. Brad did mention at one point that Gigi’s parents were wealthy and left money to them after they died. Still, I doubt it’d be billions.

  “He saw the pictures.”

  Crap. How did Chase see the artwork? He was in the basement, but never made it up to the gallery. I guess the floor to ceiling windows in the living room might give a view to that area from the right angle if he was in the backyard.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, studying the bookshelf filled with brightly colored toys.

  “Don’t play dumb with me. We could have it made. Chase talked to his cousin, and he said we might could get a hundred grand for one of those! We’d be set for the rest of our lives, Hay-Hay,” she says, switching her tone from angry to sickly sweet by using the nickname she gave me when I was a baby. After I turned eight, she only used it when she wanted something from me. I know exactly what she wants from me right now.

  “They’re not worth nearly that much,” I say. I have no idea what they’re worth, but she needs to think they’re worthless. “Mrs. Campbell paints as a hobby. She’s not very good. It’s just for fun.”

  “That’s not what Chase’s cousin says.”

  “He’s mistaken.”

  “I don’t think he is.”

  She steps closer and wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Hay-Hay, it’s our big break. Why can’t you see that? We’ll sell the paintings and be free. I’ll leave Matty and we can start over.”

  “You forget that I’m in DSS custody. There’s no starting over for me.”

  “Sure, there is. We’ll relocate to Atlanta. I’ve already got something lined up. As soon as we leave the state, they can’t touch you or me.”

  I’m not sure that’s how it works, but I know she won’t listen to reason right now. I am happy she’d like to leave her pimp, but it’s never going to happen. He has control over everything in her life and there’s no way he’d let her escape down to Atlanta.

  “I can’t,” I say.

  “You won’t.”

  “Fine, I won’t.”

  She removes her arm and her body crumples onto the sofa. Her shoulders shake with fake tears. This is a predictable response. If I don’t do what she wants, she tries to guilt me into it.

  “I—I just need some good luck,” she sobs. “This is our chance, Hay-Hay. We can turn everything around. We don’t even need you to do much. Just let us in sometime when no one is home. That’s it. Chase and his cousin will do the rest.”

  “No.”

  “Baby girl, you just need to think about it for a while. They have tons of money; they can part with a little. We have nothing.”

  “That’s stealing.”

  “It’s called charity.”

  “It’s called a felony.”

  “Your hands will be clean.”

  “I said no and I mean no. That’s it. End of discussion.”

  She jumps up from the sofa and rushes at me, her fake little crying act over. “I never should have had you, you ungrateful little bitch!” she yells, spittle landing on my face. It’s the same thing I’ve heard at least once a week for as long as I can remember.

  She reaches up and yanks on my hair hard enough to jerk my neck. I try to smack her hand away, but it hits her face instead.

  “Fuck you!” she says, smacking my cheek with her open palm. It stings and I have to fight back the tears. I haven’t let her see me cry in ten years and I don’t intend to start now.

  “Okay, okay!” Sherry yells, barging through the door with a security guard. “Break it up, you two.” The guard steps behind my mom and holds her arms tight to her side. Sherry stands next to me with her arm over my shoulders.

  I have no idea how she knew to interrupt at that moment, but I’m glad she did. Things would have only continued to go downhill from there and we both would have ended up bruised and battered.

  The security guard ushers my mom out and then Sherry sits me down on the sofa. “Sorry,” she says. “Had I known it would come to blows, I would have insisted we wait longer for a meeting.”

  I shrug. I could have told her that, but since I never volunteered the information, I can’t really hold it against her.

  “How did you know what she was doing?” I ask.

  She points to a mirror on the other side of the room. “Two-way mirror.”

  Of course. It’s good to know they take some precautions. “Could you hear her, too?”

  “No, we don’t have a microphone in here. Is there something you want me to know?”

  I contemplate her question. Should I tell her what my mom wanted me to do? Probably. But what if they move me to a different foster home to try and protect me? I’d never see Brad again. It’s not like Chase can get into the Campbell’s house anyway. After Brad’s tires were slashed, they updated their security system. There’s no way Chase is smart enough to get through that.

  “No,” I finally say. I’m not willing to give up Brad for that small risk. It’s a very selfish thing to do, but I can’t convince myself to do otherwise.

  “Okay,” Sherry says with a sigh. “You’ve got my number if you change your mind.”

  I nod and then she continues, “I no longer think it’s in your best interest to be reunified with your mother.”

  “It’s about time,” I reply with a smirk.

  She smiles in return. “Our options are for you to seek emancipation or stall until you age out.”

  “What happens with emancipation?”

  “You’d be considered an adult and would have to support yourself. I don’t want you quitting school, which means things could be challenging. We could find some financial support for you, but I’d rather you stay in foster care until you’re eighteen.”

  I nod. That’s what I want, too.

  “I’ll suspend your mother’s visits. Do you think she could regularly pass weekly drug screens?”

  “No.”

  “Then six consecutive clean screens will be a requirement for further visits. That should be enough to stall until your birthday.”

  “Thank you,” I say, hugging her. My life really is turning around and it has nothing to do with my mother or her illegal schemes. Hopefully, I’ll always remember today as being the last time I ever saw her.

  Chapter 20

  HAILEY

  When I get back to the Campbells, I’m still giddy with excitement about never having to see my mom again. I want to tell someone, but the house appears to be empty. Since I still have an hour and a half before my “date” with Gil, I decide to head to the basement and watch a little TV.

  As soon as my foot hits the final step, I regret my decision. Michelle is sitting on the sofa, crying.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, turning around.

  “He’s in the gym,” she replies with a sniffle.

  I pause and look at her over my shoulder. “Is anyone else here?”

  “No.”

  I continue watching her, unsure of how to proceed. She wipes her nose with a tissue and then stares out the window as fresh tears roll down her cheeks. “Are you okay?” I ask, turning around yet again.

  “Not really, no.”

  This seems overly dramatic, even for Michelle. Is she still upset over him not liking her? She gorgeous; she could easily get another guy.

  “It’ll all be okay,” I offer.

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Yeah, I guess it seems that way. I’m sorry. Really. I never meant to cause trouble.” I’m tempted to tell her we can’t date right now anyway, but with what Brad has said, I don’t think that would change things for her. I don’t get the impression he’d be interested in her even without me in the picture.

  “My life is over.”

  “Michelle,” I say, taking a step closer. “That’s so not true.”

/>   Just then a loud bang echoes from the weight room, followed by Brad bellowing, “Fuck!”

  That sends Michelle into another sobbing fit. She turns away from me and I get the feeling something more is going on.

  Leaving her alone, I check on Brad in the gym. He’s lying on a bench, wearing faded jeans and a navy t-shirt that’s soaked through. His hair is wet and matted to his forehead, which is crisscrossed with wrinkles of concentration. Held above his chest is a bar with three massive weights on each side. I don’t know how much weight it is, but it sure looks like a lot. He lifts it four times, yelling out a colorful curse word each time it reaches its peak.

  When he lowers the bar to the ground, I step through the doorway. “Brad?” I ask timidly.

  He jumps in surprise and then faces me. “Hailey.”

  “You okay?”

  “Nope.”

  “Is this about Michelle?”

  Wiping sweat from his face with his forearm, he replies, “Yeah.”

  “More than her liking you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  He looks at me, opens his mouth, and then closes it as if he’s unsure of what he wants.

  “I’m a good listener,” I say.

  “I do, but I don’t,” he replies, shaking his head.

  “Why?”

  “I messed up.”

  “We all mess up.”

  “Not me.”

  “Surely, you’ve messed up something before.”

  “Not something big.”

  “Well, then it was bound to happen.”

  He lets out a strained laugh and sits down on the bench, shaking his head again. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

  “I can only think of one thing that would cause this much anger,” I say, taking a step closer to him.

  “So, you already know what it is.”

  “Probably.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “Life’s not fair.”

  “I’ve worked my ass off to be perfect. I get everything I want because I work for it. How can I ruin all of that by one stupid decision? Dad is going to disown me after this. It’s never going to be the same with him.”

  I lean against the weight machine. “What happened to your double-defense approach?”

  “That was my plan, but somehow I let her convince me we’d be okay with the single-defense approach.”

  “What was the single defense?”

  “The pill.”

  “That usually works.”

  “Unless the girl occasionally skips days, but fails to tell the guy until after a positive pregnancy test.”

  “Oh.”

  He sits and I stand in silence for a few moments, then I ask, “When did you find out?”

  “She sent me a text me this morning.”

  He holds his head in his hands and then adds, “On the night we did it, she told me she was on the pill and we had nothing to worry about. I should have used a condom anyway. I know that. You always use a condom. One stupid mistake.” He hits his forehead with the heel of his hand and groans. “It’s not fair, Hailey.”

  I sit down next to him and say, “No, it’s not. If anyone should be pregnant, it’s me. I had unprotected sex dozens of times. You did it once and tried to be responsible. Are you sure it’s yours?”

  “She says it is.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “Yeah.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “We don’t have much of a choice. She needs to get rid of it.”

  “It? It’s a baby, a living being, you know?”

  “I know! A baby that Michelle can’t take care of when she’s a senior next year. A baby that I can’t take to college with me. If she has the baby, then the lives we’ve worked so hard to achieve are over!”

  “And if she doesn’t have it, then the baby’s life is over before he or she even had a chance.”

  He turns and glares at me. “I’d expect you to be a little more understanding of this. You were brought into a shitty situation and look at what you had to go through for years!” He fists are balled up at his sides and his face is red. I’m not sure if it’s still from his workout or a result of his current anger.

  “You and Michelle are not my mom,” I reply calmly. “You have money and family. The baby would have every opportunity in the world.”

  “At the expense of my opportunity.”

  “That’s very selfish.”

  He shakes his head. “What choice do I have?”

  “At least weekly, my mom told me how she wished she had never had me. Lots of times, I wished the same thing. But if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now. You’re ending a life before it even has the chance to get started. That could’ve been me. I could’ve been killed before I was even born.”

  Brad blows out a loud breath and hangs his head.

  I walk outside to where Michelle is still sitting on the sofa. She takes one look at me and says, “He told you.”

  “No, I guessed. What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t let him force you into anything.”

  “I can’t do it without his help.”

  “It’d be hard, but I bet you could do it.”

  “I’m a freaking junior! How do you go to school with a baby?”

  “They have programs.” I say, sitting next to her.

  “Not at our school.”

  “Well, no, you’d have to go to a special school.”

  “Like a reject.”

  “Being a reject isn’t too bad. You kind of get used to it.”

  “Maybe if I did what he wanted, he’d …”

  She pauses and I know what she’s thinking. Or what she’s hoping. Would she really be willing to do that just for the chance to get with him?

  “But I guess he has you, so probably not,” she finishes, wiping fresh tears with the palm of her hand.

  I wrap my arms around her and rest my chin on the top of her head. “I don’t know what Brad and I are or what we’ll become, if anything, but you can’t make this big of a decision based on your feelings for a boy. Think of the baby. What’s right for him or her?”

  “You think I should have it?”

  I bite my lip. Yes, I think she should, but if I tell her that, am I any better than Brad trying to convince her not to have the baby? “I think you should do whatever you can live with. There’s always adoption.”

  Just then, Brad walks out of the weight room with a towel lying across his shoulders. He sighs and then sits down next to me. I let go of Michelle and we both stare at him.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “To both of you. I majorly screwed things up.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Michelle asks, wiping her nose.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I can’t raise the baby and I would never ask my parents to do that. I’ll provide whatever financial support I can if you want to raise it—him or her—,” he says, catching himself and glancing in my direction. “I can get a job and use some of the trust fund from my grandparents.”

  “Would you be a part of the baby’s life? Would he or she know you’re the daddy?”

  “I guess. I’ll be away for college, but I could video chat and visit whenever I’m home.”

  “Is there any chance we could ever be a family, the three of us?” she asks, looking past me to Brad.

  “Michelle, I’m really sorry, but this doesn’t change anything I said last week. I love you, I do, but as a friend. That’s not going to change. I’m happy to be a part of your life, but I don’t ever see myself as your boyfriend or husband.”

  She shakes her head. “I figured as much,” she mumbles. “I’m going to go. I’ll call you later, after I talk to my parents.” She stands and walks to the stairs.

  “Are you going to tell them I’m the dad?”

  “Do you want me to?”


  “Not yet. I’m not sure how to break this news to my parents,” he says, joining her.

  “Okay. Let me know when I can tell them.”

  Brad walks Michelle out while I sit on the sofa, totally stunned by the day’s events. Never in a million years would I have expected this to happen to perfect Brad. My life got a hundred times better today and his got a hundred times worse. His parents are going to freak.

  When he returns, he flops down next to me and throws his head onto the back of the sofa, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

  “Everything that happened yesterday seems minor in comparison now,” I say.

  “No shit. Do you hate me?”

  “No,” I say, drawing out the word. “I’m disappointed you would so easily consider abortion. I could never do that if I were in Michelle’s position.”

  “I would never put you in Michelle’s position.”

  “Mistakes happen, obviously.”

  “I’m not having sex again until I’m ready for a kid.”

  “You say that now.”

  “’I’m serious. I’m scared to death.”

  “Scared into celibacy?”

  “Yeah.”

  We sit in silence for long minutes. His eyes are still closed and I begin to wonder if he fell asleep.

  “Do you understand where I’m coming from?” I whisper.

  “Yeah,” he says, opening his eyes and looking at me. “But do you understand what I was saying?”

  “Yes. You were looking out for yourself. I was looking out for the baby.”

  “I’m not going to say I agree with you in every situation, but you made a good point. I can’t imagine a world without you in it. You’re special to me and I’m glad fate brought us together. I’m glad your mom had the strength and courage to have you. She may be a stronger person than me.”

  I shake my head at the ridiculousness of his statement. “She doesn’t deserve your praise.” After a pause, I ask, “You would never force me to have an abortion, would you?”

  “No, but you’d never be in that position, remember? Do you really not hate me?”

  “Why would I hate you?”

  “I’m a screw up.”

  “You’re not a screw up in general. You screwed up, yes, but it was one part screw up and twenty parts bad luck.”