Earning Edie (Espinoza Boys #1)

by D. J. Jamison

  His voice became progressively louder, and I realized Dad was angrier than I expected. I kind of thought he’d be the peacemaker while Debra and I duked it out.

  I was wrong.

  My mouth opened and shut as tears welled up. My dad was so even-keeled, it was completely unnerving to see him lose his temper.

  “If the shoe fits …” I mumbled.

  “What was that?” he bellowed, his face turning red.

  Debra was surprisingly quiet, watching my father yell at me with a stunned expression.

  “Nothing, Dad. Nothing I say matters anyway.”

  “You’ve got some nerve, mouthing off after what you did. You’re 18. I don’t have to let you live here.”

  “Paul,” Debra said uncertainly. “Maybe we should all cool down.”

  “No, he’s right,” I said, my voice wavering with tears. “You’ve always felt like you had to let me live here. Not like you wanted me here because you loved me. I was an imposition. And I’m done. You want me gone? Fine. I’m gone!”

  I rushed down the hall toward my bedroom, with my father yelling after me.

  “Go! Don’t bother coming back until you grow up, Edie!”

  I didn’t have boxes to pack everything I owned, nor did I have the time. I wanted out of the house as quickly as possible. So, I grabbed the few possessions I didn’t want to leave behind — my Harry Potter books, my stash of spending money, and a stuffed lamb Lily had given to me when I was 7.

  Debra stopped in my bedroom doorway while I hurriedly packed, pausing only to wipe at the tears that wouldn’t stop pouring down my face.

  “Your father’s just angry.”

  “He’s not the only one.” I grabbed a duffel from my closet and started shoving in T-shirts, shorts and underwear.

  “You seem to have that in common. Easygoing until your top blows off,” Debra said. “You’ll regret this moment one day, and when you’re ready to apologize, he’ll forgive you.”

  I straightened, loaded down with my belongings, and turned toward the door.

  “Maybe I’m not the one who needs forgiveness.”

  I had plenty more I could say: that I’d only wanted a sign they cared; that they’d hurt me by treating me as an afterthought; that other people besides me clearly thought it was wrong, too.

  But the words were locked inside, trapped by my anger and my fear. Even now, as I left the house, I couldn’t face down Debra or my father. It was a miracle I’d blurted as much as I had in those first few flashes of anger.

  And it hadn’t helped anyway.

  I brushed past Debra and headed for the back door so I wouldn’t have to see my dad on the way out.

  “Eventually you’ll realize not everything revolves around you,” she said, as she followed me. Of course, she had to have the last word.

  “The whole world is unfair, Edie. Do you think it’s fair your father lives in all that pain? Someday you’ll grow up, and realize that as long as you continue whining about it instead of living your life, you’ll never be happy.”

  I closed the door before she could offer any more worldly wisdom, and ran down the steps. But once I reached the sidewalk, I paused, unsure of where to go.

  Going to my mom’s was the logical choice, even if I didn’t relish the idea of living in a small, rundown mobile home crammed with all of Ray’s junked technology in various stages of repair.

  I walked the few blocks to her place, taking the time to stop at a convenience store and buy a copy of the newspaper.

  My mom would be angry about the column, too, but she wasn’t a subscriber and probably hadn’t seen it. Even so, I’d have to explain why I needed a place to stay, so I’d have to meet this one head-on.

  My bag strap dug into my shoulder the whole way, and I clutched a few items that wouldn’t fit in the bag. The short walk took longer than usual, because I had to stop every few feet when I dropped something or had to readjust my grip.

  Finally, I reached Mom’s trailer park. Unlike Dad’s neighborhood, the lawns here were patchy, a mottled mix of grass, weeds and dirt. Some of the yards contained sun-bleached toys and rusted bikes, but Mom’s yard was clear of debris. Her porch was another matter, sagging under boxes full of motherboards and other parts for the computers Ray repaired and sold.

  I sat my things down by the first step, and then edged through a narrow space to knock on the door. I waited a few minutes, then knocked again.

  Mom wasn’t a morning person; I knew that. Ray’s beat-up blue pickup was in the drive, so they were home.

  After I pounded a third time, Mom opened the door in her nightgown. She looked out at me, then at all my stuff on the ground.

  “No, Edie,” she said before I could explain. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Your dad called me. I know all about you badmouthing me in the newspaper.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you,” I said, handing her my copy of the paper. “I brought it so you could read it. And so I could explain.”

  Mom took the paper and skimmed through the first few paragraphs.

  “Well, you’ve really made us look terrible, haven’t you?” she said quietly.

  I felt more afraid of this calm side of Mom than the volatile reaction I’d expected.

  “Mom?” I said hesitantly. “I didn’t know he was a reporter. I didn’t know he would write it in the paper. It was just a conversation.”

  “Still, it’s what you think of us, isn’t it?”

  I glanced around, noticing a curious neighbor watching from across the street.

  “Can’t I please come in?”

  “No,” Mom said. “Leaving your dad to come here won’t solve anything. Besides, you know how cramped it is.”

  “Seriously? Don’t you even care what happens to me?” I asked, hot tears pricking at the back of my eyes.

  “Stop right there. Before you go and chalk this up to another example of your parents treating you bad, you hear me out.

  “I don’t want you living here, because if everything in this article is true, then you aren’t happy living with us. I think it would be best for you to figure out what does make you happy, Edie. Because we’ve tried, and obviously failed.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, then shut it again. Mom was right. I didn’t want to live with her and Ray. It’s like they always say, there’s no going home again. And this particular home I’d lost long before Nick Espinoza wrote about me in the newspaper.

  I didn’t know where that left me. Except homeless.

  Panic made my heart stutter in my chest. I’d assumed Mom would take me back anytime I needed. She hadn’t wanted me to leave for my dad’s three years ago, and I’d taken it for granted I’d always have a home with her.

  Where could I go now? Lily’s home was packed to the gills with her college-bound siblings home for the summer. She didn’t have to tell me things were tight over there financially, as well.

  I went down the steps to pick up my bag, slinging it over my shoulder.

  “Well, I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you,” I said, my voice hollow to my own ears. “Guess I’ll see you later.”

  I turned and crossed the yard, taking a shortcut toward the trailer park exit. When I looked back, the front door was closed and my mother was nowhere to be seen.

  Pulling out my cell phone, I called Lily for lack of a better idea. Maybe she could think of a solution I hadn’t.

  I didn’t like the options that came to mind.

  I could rent an apartment, but it’d quickly deplete the small savings I had for college. I assumed with everything that happened I wouldn’t have any help from my parents, and I’d already suspected as much with my dad dodging the conversation at every turn.

  Theoretically, I could couch surf with other friends, except I didn’t really have any. Ditto for other family members. They all lived in other states.

  I could stay in a shelter, but my skin crawled just thinking of it.

  I hoped Lily would have a solution, because I didn’t
. With every second, I regretted the fight with my father, especially that I’d made it so easy for him to kick me out. I’d practically volunteered.

  “Hey, it’s me,” I said when she answered her cell.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Just hearing her concerned voice, the first person to show any care for my feelings, had the tears rushing to my eyes.

  “I got in a fight with Dad and Debra, and they sort of kicked me out.”

  “After missing your graduation? Those assholes!” Lily was instantly in best friend defense mode.

  “The fight was kind of about that, in a roundabout way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll explain later. I was wondering, um … can pick me up? I know I was just there, but maybe I could come over and we could brainstorm? Just for a while. I, uh … my mom won’t let me stay there, either, and I’m not really sure what to do.”

  “Oh my God, of course! Where are you?”

  “Walking by Gas-N-Go by my mom’s house.”

  I heard Lil mumble something in the background, and then she was back.

  “We’ll be right there. I’m out hitting garage sales with Mom. We’ll pick you up in 5.”

  ***

  For the next hour, Lily and her mom coddled me thoroughly. Lily listened to me vent as much as I wanted without a single complaint, while her mother hand-delivered our favorite snacks and ruffled my hair affectionately each time she passed by.

  I filled Lily in on the full story, and showed her the newspaper. “Look at the headlines.”

  “Sunday liquor sales … antiquing is on the rise locally ….” She murmured as she read each headline out loud. “The Lonely Graduate. Time to get a new family.”

  Suddenly she let out a loud gasp. “Nick Espinoza wrote this one. Oh my God, Edie!”

  “I know,” I groaned. “It’s bad, right? I didn’t know what I was saying! I was drunk. I never should have gone to that stupid party.”

  Lily spent a couple of minutes skimming through the article. Then she turned to look at me. “Maybe you should be glad this happened.”

  My eyes widened. “How do you figure?”

  “This is all true, Edie. I’ve seen it myself. Aren’t you tired of it? Your parents need a wake-up call.”

  “This isn’t a wake-up call!” I protested. “They don’t think they did anything wrong. And now I don’t even have a home! I’m on my own, and my graduation certificate hasn’t even come in the mail.”

  We lazed on the couch, the television playing trashy reality TV that might as well have been my life, while we hashed out the possibilities.

  “I wish you could just stay here,” Lily said.

  I heard the apology in her voice. “Are you kidding? You’re like sardines in here. I need space to think and plan. I need to research other scholarship or grant opportunities for school. I’m not giving up on college just because my parents are jerks.”

  She smiled, looking relieved, and cracked her knuckles. “Then, put on your problem-solving cap. It’s time to get to work!”

  We laughed and snacked, and took turns listing out less than ideal scenarios. Spending money on an apartment. Searching for just a room to rent to keep the expense down. Trying to think of someone else who would let me crash free of charge for a while.

  “We could ask Samantha or the twins,” she suggested, but I shook my head.

  Sam and I were acquaintances at best. I knew the twins even less. We weren’t close, and I couldn’t imagine begging my way through the door on pure pity.

  “We’re not close friends, Lil. That would be way too awkward. Besides, Samantha is constantly throwing parties. She’s almost as bad as Carlos. And the twins are like Fort Knox. They wouldn’t want someone in their inner sanctum. They never even held a sleepover when we were kids.”

  “True.” She rapped her nails on the glass-top coffee table while she thought. I chewed on mine.

  “You should ask Carlos,” she said finally.

  “What?”

  “Well, his house is huge. They have tons of extra room. Besides, he’s related to that Nick asshole. He must be, right?”

  “They’re brothers, aren’t they? I figured Nick must live there, too.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Carlos is an only child, that’s why his parents let him have anything he wants. They’re always working, and they buy his forgiveness.”

  At my surprised look, she shrugged. “You’re not the only one who was less than invested parents. But at least his acknowledge their shortcomings. Yours are in denial.”

  I sighed. “Well, I can’t ask Carlos. That’s crazy. If I was going to guilt anyone into giving me a place to stay, it would be Nick. He pretended to be so nice, and the whole time he was playing me.”

  Lily snapped her fingers, a smile lighting up her face. “That’s it!”

  “What?”

  “Ask Nick!”

  My jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I’m not kidding,” she said, getting a determined glint in her eye I recognized from so many years of friendship. “Better yet, don’t ask Nick. Tell Nick. This is his fault, and he owes you. Maybe it’ll even teach him not to screw with people’s lives.”

  “I don’t know. …”

  Anxiety rose at the very thought. Approach that sexy, sophisticated guy and demand he let me stay in his home? That was ballsy, and a little crazy. I couldn’t pull that off, could I?

  “What if he says no?”

  Lily smiled sweetly, but I knew what lurked behind that innocent exterior. The girl could be devious when she wanted to be.

  “Simple. Then you blackmail him.”

  She jumped up from the couch while I stared at her in shock.

  I could go to his boss and complain. He’d interviewed me without telling me he was a reporter. He’d done it at a party where I was drinking. He’d taken advantage of someone who was underage.

  Ugh. Thinking on it that way, I felt like such a naïve idiot. I hated being cast as the dumb girl taken in with a flirty smile. How many girls had he wrapped around his little finger with those gorgeous eyes and that friendly face?

  Lily was brave, and she was tough. If this had happened to her, she wouldn’t hesitate to make Nick pay.

  I was tired of being a pushover. Whether it was my parents, or it was Nick, the result was the same. I’d let people walk all over me for too many years already.

  I took a deep breath, braced to push myself out of my comfort zone.

  “Okay, let’s do it. Let’s get me a place to stay and make Nick pay.”

  Chapter 4

  EDIE

  I asked Lily to wait outside, and marched through the front entrance of the news office. This was something I wanted to do alone, and should I fail spectacularly, I didn’t want an audience.

  A tall reception desk fronted the office, staffed by a sweet older lady in rhinestone-decorated glasses. I worried for a brief moment I wouldn’t get in.

  “Hi, I need to talk to Nick Espinoza.”

  “Sure,” the receptionist said brightly. “Let me ring him.”

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary. We’re old friends. Just point me in the right direction. I want to surprise him,” I said, and crossed my fingers behind my back.

  The receptionist looked uncertain a moment, then shrugged.

  “Alright, go straight down that way.” She pointed to the aisle running between cubicles behind her. “Take your first right. He’ll be on the end.”

  “Thanks.”

  I walked down the corridor, my duffel bag slung over my shoulder and a copy of the damning news column clutched in one hand. Several pairs of eyes watched me make my way through the maze of cubicles. The newsroom was surprisingly bland; it could have been an accountant’s office.

  Rounding the corner, I spotted him chatting animatedly with a co-worker who sat across from him.

  He looked more the part of journalist now. At the party, he’d been wearing dark-wash jea
ns and a printed T-shirt. Though far from formal, he now wore a blue button-down shirt and gray slacks.

  The grin on his face as he joked with the thin, pale-haired guy over a cubicle divider set my temper skyrocketing again.

  My face grew hot, and I could feel my pulse pounding in my head. I’d actually believed he was a nice guy. As if I would catch the interest of a guy who looked like that.

  He glanced in my direction, then did a double take. I sure had his attention now.

  “Edie,” I saw him mouth to his colleague.

  I walked up to his desk, and dropped my duffel bag on top of a pile of newspapers, press releases and old notebooks. It landed with a thud, and a couple of stray papers slid off the desk.

  “So we meet again,” he said brightly, but his smile faltered at the expression on my face.

  “Well, like you said. I figured out how to find you,” I said, brandishing a copy of the newspaper at him.

  “Edie, I can tell you’re angry—”

  “Angry? Me? Why would I be angry?” My voice rose above the chattering of reporters conducting phone interviews and the clicking of keyboards.

  “Before you go off—”

  “I am so far beyond angry, I have reached blinding fury,” I hissed.

  The co-worker stared at us over his computer monitor, his mouth hanging open, but I didn’t care.

  Nick’s eyes flicked to the bag on the desk. “That’s not a bomb, is it?”

  There was an amused tone to his voice, and I realized my anger didn’t faze him at all. That, more than anything else, cut through my urge to yell. He was used to people yelling at him, and he was going to let it roll off his back and move on to the next story.

  I stopped my tirade, and grabbed a vacant chair at another desk. I rolled it over and sat down next to Nick.

  “You think this is a joking matter?” I asked, taking care to keep my voice as calm as possible.

  At last he had the decency to look flustered. He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck in that aw shucks manner guys get when they’re not sure what to say.