Bad Boy Rich

by Kat T. Masen

  This isn’t a goodbye forever.

  “I hate this…”

  Phoebe throws a pile of clothes into the suitcase in her normally overdramatic way—before pretending to faint on my bed. The bed posts creak from the sudden weight of her body while I choose to ignore her plea to make me stay home; carefully organizing my precious belongings into a separate carry-on bag.

  “You only hate it because you’ve got no one to vent to on Friday night while drunk on cheap champagne you bought at Billy’s.”

  Phoebe sits up, then lays back against my pillow with her ginger hair a tangled mess. Whenever she got frustrated or angry, she would unknowingly bite her hair while silently trying to regroup her thoughts.

  “That’s not true.” She shakes her head, spitting out a mouthful of hair. “You make a good vomit buddy. You’ve got my hair pulled back so tight that it’s such a neat spew into the toilet bowl.”

  I throw a pair of socks at her face before plopping down beside her. “I hate this too.”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing else you can do? Could you take another job or something?”

  I wish it was that simple. I had worked two jobs for the past year to support our family. A full-time role at Mason’s Law Firm as personal assistant to Mildred Mason—one of Alaska’s top female lawyers. I took the job straight out of college and pretty much got thrown into the deep end. To be honest—I wouldn’t have it any other way. It distracted me from the real problems I was facing with Mom and gave me the direction I needed.

  “The pizza shop can’t afford to keep me on for weekends anymore. Why pay a twenty-five-year-old wages when you can pay a sixteen-year-old?” I complain. “And Mildred is retiring.”

  “So, get another job. There’s plenty of personal assistant jobs here.”

  I laugh at her suggestion. “Uh, hello? You do know we live in a small town? It takes me ninety minutes each day to travel to work. There are no other jobs.”

  “Surely, there’s something.” Phoebe leans over to my nightstand and grabs the local newspaper. “Okay, look. There’s plenty.”

  “Fine, go ahead, tell me what I can do.”

  “How are you with gutting fish?”

  “The same you are with gutting fish.”

  She takes a giant swallow. “Gross. Okay, so fish guts ain’t your thing. Here you go…” Her eyes scan the paper, quietly reading before speaking. “Looking for a physically fit young woman to help with caring for ailing father.”

  “Pass.”

  “Why? The money looks good.”

  “Because it’s caring for Old Man Wilson and we all know his wandering hands are no accident. I think his daughter has some sort of advertisement discount for the amount of times that job has been posted.”

  “Who would have thought an eighty-year-old man would be so frisky?” Phoebe questions with a cheeky grin. “He had an eye for your red miniskirt. By the way, can I have it?”

  “Not any of the women that applied for the role, clearly.” I move to the closet, opening a secret compartment and removing the miniskirt, throwing it at Phoebe. “All yours. The last time I wore this was in high school. Smoking weed under the bleachers with Bobby Houseman.”

  “Those were the days.” Phoebe continues to troll the newspaper, turning the page with frustration and causing the paper to crumple between her fingers. Her frown turns into a smile, and I wait eagerly for her pathetic attempt to sell me a role that involved selling my soul to the devil.

  “You like to dance, right?”

  “Sure, with my clothes on. So, if you’re trying to get me to take them off and casually stand by a silver pole, keep turning that page.”

  “You know me too well.”

  “Like the back of my hand.”

  “I don’t want you to go, Milly.” Her voice is raspy, pleading for something I can no longer control.

  “I have no choice. I can’t support paying for Mom’s care and keep the house. Besides, it’ll be nice to start fresh somewhere.”

  She turns to face me, throwing the newspaper onto the floor. The bed creaks again; annoying yet comforting because it was my bed. The same bed I had slept in since I was a kid.

  “You’re lying. You hate fresh starts. You’re a homebody and moving to a different state—especially California—terrifies you.”

  I nod my head quietly. I did hate fresh starts. I was a homebody. For the past four years I’d done nothing but study and work. I had zero social life besides hanging out with Phoebe and my boyfriend Liam. My weekends consisted of more work, taking care of the house and making sure my brother stayed out of trouble.

  I had worked hard on bettering myself. Providing for Mom in her time of need. So what if I wasn’t hitting the clubs and partying like everyone else my age. I had been there, done that. Illegally, yet still, it’s not like I haven’t tasted what it’s like to walk on the wild side.

  I walked.

  I fell.

  And now I’m back up.

  “I have to do this.” I bury my head into Phoebe’s side, knowing I would miss her like crazy. “You can come visit, and I’m sure I’ll come back home for the holidays.”

  “It’s not the same. I’m selfish and need my best friend.”

  I smile into her shirt, inhaling the smell of cinnamon. A scent she purchased online after reading some article on how to attract men. As silly as it may seem—it was so Phoebe. Naïve and waiting to land her prince charming.

  “I promise nothing will change between us,” I reassure her.

  “Pinkie swear it.” She holds up her pinkie finger and I raise mine to link with hers.

  “I pinkie swear it.”

  The radio plays in the background, the local station playing the usual Friday afternoon ’90s mix. I grab the hairbrush from the top of the suitcase and sing to the tunes of Backstreet Boys. Phoebe can’t help herself, jumping off the bed and dancing in the room while we both belt out the chorus—off key—laughing until my brother bangs against the wall.

  The song ends, the same time that we both stare at each other with clouded eyes. I’m the first to turn away, avoiding the sadness that I’m forcing to bury deep down inside because if I allow myself to feel the extent of it—I would never leave.

  I try to distract myself by folding a sweater, until Phoebe’s arms wrap around my waist, her face buried into my hair. The sweater slips out of my hands as I pull her into me while we both begin to cry.

  Phoebe pulls away first, wiping my old ragged t-shirt of the stains she left behind. When we both wipe our faces with the backs of our sleeves, we smile—staring into the mirror and laughing at our panda eyes.

  Phoebe was more than a best friend—she was my family.

  I look at the time on the wall—it’s just after four in the afternoon.

  “Phoebe, I got one more thing I need to do before I leave.”

  You could see the sympathy in her eyes. It wasn’t only saying goodbye to Phoebe, but to my boyfriend—Liam. I had been dreading this since the moment me leaving became a reality.

  “You think you guys will last?”

  Here’s the thing about hope: we cling to it and wish to the stars above that it’ll all work out. Liam wasn’t the type of man to force me to do anything, quite the opposite. He supported my decisions even if it meant leaving him behind.

  “I sure hope so.”

  I left Phoebe back at the house with my bags packed and ready to go.

  The walk into town is short, but a much-needed one as I attempt to clear my thoughts and think about what I need to say to the man who had been my boyfriend for the past four years.

  There’s the usual clinking and clanking coming from the garage, and without even calling his name, Liam slides out from beneath the car knowing I am here. Instead of saying goodbye inside, I motion for him to follow me as I walk around the worn-out building and sit on our bench. The same bench that he asked me to marry him on last year. Of course—I said no. I wasn’t ready for marriage. Twenty-four seemed t
oo young to settle down even though it had become common over the past few years. It seemed like there was wedding after wedding and all those marriages were high school and college friends the same age as me.

  Taking a seat on the wobbly bench, I steady the rocky movement before he sits beside me. Neither of us says any words—quietly watching the mountains afar. I would miss the scenery; something about the fresh Alaskan air had a way of making me feel calm.

  “I didn’t think this time would come.” He nervously twists the dirty rag between his grubby fingers. “I could help out too you know. I mean, I don’t have much but you can have it, Milly.”

  Liam Davies wasn’t a selfish man. I knew he would help me out financially but this decision was more than leeching off my boyfriend. I would forever be in his debt and that didn’t sit well with me. He worked hard as an apprentice and was now a qualified mechanic. Unlike me, he didn’t go to college and this was all he had to support himself. He had already saved me—four years ago—from a college boyfriend who became my college stalker and found himself in college jail. Okay, perhaps I exaggerated that last part. He ended up in some detention center where he then proceeded to stalk the female nurse.

  “I can’t take anything from you. I don’t have a choice in this matter.”

  “You’re making a choice to leave me.”

  “No, I’m making a choice to give Mom the best care she can possibly get.”

  Our words fall silent—only the noise of the boys in the garage tinkering away at the broken cars can be heard.

  I turn my body to face him, bridging the gap between us. Liam is an extremely good-looking guy. Dirty-blond hair tied up into a messy bun to keep away from his light green eyes. They never changed color upon his mood, and maybe that’s why he had this way of making me feel safe; the calming effect he had over me when I stared long enough and allowed him to climb into my soul.

  The side of his face is smeared with grease, hiding the one dimple that sat on his right cheek. Such a cheeky dimple, cute and adorable.

  “I never expected to make this decision, you know. I wish it was different, I really do.”

  How I wished it was different. Alaska is home. The only place I had ever known. I had only left the state once—a joy ride that went wrong resulting in Mom having an almost-heart attack that her fifteen-year-old daughter would do such a thing. Aside from that, I knew no different. A big city with crime, corruption, and God knows what else. I wasn’t that daredevil anymore—Los Angeles terrified me.

  Liam places his hand on top of mine, rubbing the tips of my knuckles with his calloused fingers. “And us?” he asks with a croak.

  “We’ll just be us. Why does it have to change?”

  “Because you’re thousands of miles away. You don’t even own a cell.”

  I nudge his shoulder, welcoming the small joke. “Yes, I do. So, it’s not fancy and one of those so-called smartphones. It still works.”

  “I believe Vanilla Ice called from the nineties and wants his brick back,” he snorts.

  “That’s what he said about your outfit.” I laugh, pinching the fabric of his baggy navy overalls which he wore to work every day.

  “I’ll miss you, Milly.” Placing his arm around me, he kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering enough to warm my icy skin.

  I would miss him terribly. In hindsight, I probably should have married him. Then I wouldn’t have to move. We could have lived in his parents’ basement, oblivious to all that lay ahead. If only he didn’t scare me with the kids talk, the desire to start a family and a big one at that. It wasn’t in the cards for me. Kids…singular or plural.

  A lonesome tear fights through my pride and falls onto his forearm. I wipe it with my hand, watching it mix with the grease that clung to his skin. Damn it—I didn’t want to cry in front of him, and this is the second time today I had broken down.

  “It’s only a plane ride away. This is my home, it’ll always be home. Don’t think of me gone forever…”

  “I won’t.” He gulps, pursing his lips and thinking with his eyes. “Just don’t forget me when you get there.”

  I touch his hand and lean in, placing my lips on his. Everything about his kiss is home; warm, inviting, and connects with my heart in ways I never imagined. The familiarity of his gentle touch made me ache all over. What if he forgot about me?

  “I could never forget you,” I tell him. “Good guys like you are a dime a dozen.”

  “And you’re my lucky penny.” He winks.

  I stand up while he continues to sit on the bench. He had offered to take me and Flynn to the airport but I refused. Saying goodbye is hard and having crowds of people watch me break down into a blubbering mess isn’t something I was fond of doing. We had a proper farewell last night with dinner and lovemaking while his parents sat in the den and watched re-runs of Mash.

  Resting my hands on his shoulders, I wrap them around his neck knowing the boys in the garage were watching from where they stood.

  “Take care of yourself, one day I’ll be back and it’ll be like I never left.”

  His endearing smile hides the pain as his heavy gaze tells me everything I need to hear at this moment. “You’ve got my heart, Milly.”

  “And you’ve got mine, Liam Dean Davies.”

  One more time, we allow ourselves to lose each other in a goodbye kiss. It might have been my imagination, but his kiss was more forceful this time, unlike his normally gentle and relaxing manner.

  Time ticked at a fast and demanding pace. We had only minutes left and this kiss—though deep and full of emotions—would be our last.

  In a world full of promises, I could be optimistic and know that he’d always be around. But inside that world lay doubt. With everything riding on my shoulders, I would now carry the weight alone. I had no choice but to succeed.

  For my brother who had no one else.

  For my mom to be taken care of.

  And for my safe return home.

  The sound of a horn beeps at the end of the driveway. Mom’s cousin, Larry, sits in his truck, parked out front with Mom and Flynn inside. I turn back around and touch Liam’s scraggy hair one more time, before letting go and walking away. I refuse to turn back, but by the time I am sitting in the truck beside Flynn, I stare out the window to catch that last glimpse.

  He wore a smile like a badge of honor but his eyes told a different story. I could promise this man many things but my fear drove my thoughts and the truth was, I had no idea what the next twelve months would hold.

  The drive was relatively quiet; small talk about Alaskan history and my grandparents’ migration from Russia. The exit to the airport is only a few miles ahead and before I could blink an eye—we were parked in Departures. Larry unloads our bags with Flynn assisting as I stand watching, swallowing the pain that crawled inside me and crippled my words.

  Flynn wasn’t one to show emotion, but when he wrapped his arms around Mom, the little boy inside of him came out. His tall, lanky frame almost relied on her for support, resting his head awkwardly on her shoulder while she whispered into his ear.

  She always had a soft spot for him; her only son, her baby. He pulls away with bloodshot eyes, mouth twisted while mumbling goodbye and busying himself with our luggage.

  There’s chaos around us, people leaving, saying goodbye to their loved ones. Some smiling, some laughing, those that let their tears fall freely while holding onto each other tight. A couple that embrace while jamming their tongues down each other’s throats…

  “You’ve got my details, where we’ll be staying,” I say quietly.

  Mom smiles softly, caressing my cheek with the back of her hand. She always wore this ring: old gold with an emerald stone in the middle. It had belonged to my great-great grandmother and had been given to her by some queen in Europe. As a child, I would lay by Mom’s side and fantasize wearing the ring, planning the moment when she would leave it on her dresser and I could slip it on wishing it was like Cinderella’s glass
slipper. It never happened; she wore it every day and never took it off.

  “Yes, I’ve got your details and you know where to find me. Did you pack your sun hat? The Californian sun is awfully strong.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “What about your sweaters? The night air may be chilly.”

  “Yes, Mom. I’m not sure if I should be doing this, in fact, I know that we shouldn’t be doing this,” I blurt out the words that were trapped earlier, ignoring our idle chit chat about appropriate weather attire.

  Despite my earlier acceptance of the situation, the reality was hard and cold, knocking me back and forth.

  “You promised me you and Flynn would do this. Live your life, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll have the right people around me.”

  “But maybe we should wait, you know, get you settled, then go.”

  “Larry and Aunt Nellie will help me get settled. Besides, your interview is in two days and this is your final round. You passed all the first interviews with flying colors. They love you and haven’t even met you. I know this will work out for you, Milly.”

  I knew she wouldn’t be fine—that’s what hurt the most. Relying on other people to take care of her, it was their paid job. They wouldn’t be doing it out of love like we would and all of a sudden—the guilt hits me. The pain I had put my mother through, raising a teenage daughter that was fixed on making everyone’s life hell because she had no clue that her own mother was already living a nightmare.

  I owed her this.

  For my mistakes.

  My arms follow Mom’s actions, wrapped around her while we stood holding onto each other without saying anything. My grip is tight, not wanting to let go, remembering this moment, remembering her smell, the way her grey hair was always neatly tied up in a bun and how I would tell her that she needed to let it out since it was beautiful.