The Boy Who Has No Redemption

by Victoria Quinn

  I presented all the internship paperwork to Derek for him to sign off on.

  He read through each page then placed it in the approval pile.

  Nothing went into the rejection deck.

  “It’s good.” He went back to his work. “What time will you drop off Lizzie?” With his head down and his eyes on his device, he didn’t give me the courtesy of eye contact.

  “I’m not dropping her off.” I couldn’t keep the pride out of my voice, the way Lizzie cared more about my feelings than her education. “We’ll find her another tutor. You’re off the hook.”

  Derek lifted his gaze and looked at me, his brown eyes showing his confusion. “Just because it didn’t work out with us doesn’t mean you should deny Lizzie the best education possible.”

  My eyes narrowed, and I couldn’t control the sarcastic chuckle that escaped my lips. “Didn’t work out… Uh-huh… No, Derek, that’s not what happened. You dumped me…in a stairwell. Let’s not rewrite history. And that’s not why we’re declining your offer.”

  He didn’t have any reaction to what I said. “Then why are you declining it?”

  “Because Lizzie doesn’t want you to tutor her.” I grabbed the papers and put everything in the folder before I turned around.

  “Why?”

  I turned back around and looked at him. “I’m sure you can figure that out on your own, Derek.”

  7

  Derek

  I sat at the dining table and stared at my phone, debating if I should do this or just leave it alone. But this was something I would always be passionate about, so I hit the button and pressed the phone to my ear and then listened to it ring.

  It rang for so long that I didn’t think she would answer.

  But she did. “What the fuck do you want, asshole?” She had the voice of a twelve-year-old, but she spoke like a grown woman, an inferno of rage in her tone and not just her words.

  I was so stunned that I couldn’t compose a response.

  “I asked you a question, bitch.”

  Damn. “Lizzie, your mother told me you’ve declined my tutoring offer—”

  “Why would I want your help?”

  “Because I can help you.”

  “And why the fuck would you want to help me?”

  I suspected Lizzie had stepped into the hallway or something because Emerson wouldn’t let her speak like that to anyone—even me. “Because I’m your teacher, and I care about your success. It doesn’t matter what happened with your mother. Our relationship doesn’t have to change—”

  “It doesn’t matter what happened with my mother…?” Lizzie released a maniacal laugh. “What planet are you on? You fucking killed her. She broke down in the middle of a department store and sobbed her eyes out because she lost it. Her Christmas was ruined. Our Christmas was ruined. I’ve never seen my mom like this. It’s like…it’s like she’s dead or something. You broke her. So why the fuck would I want to see your stupid face ever again?”

  My heart ached as I listened to her, realizing the destruction I caused.

  “I never wanted a dad until I found you. I never wanted to have two parents until you came along. I never dreamed of being an astronaut or an engineer until you. You were like family to us, and then one day, you just decided you didn’t want to be our family. Who does that?”

  I breathed harder as I listened to her, feeling my stomach tighten, feeling the hurt in every part of my body. “Lizzie, I still care about you.”

  “Well, I don’t care about you. I will never care about the asshole that broke my mother’s heart. You can take your tutoring sessions and shove them up your ass.” Click.

  I lowered the phone back to the surface of the table and swallowed the lump in my throat. I stared at the black screen and felt dead inside, felt a brick fall into my stomach and crush my insides.

  It took six weeks for us to get everything organized for the internship program. We would be accepting new graduates. I got fewer than half of my engineers to volunteer themselves in exchange for a pay raise. That meant we couldn’t take as many interns, but it was better to take fewer students than take more who were paired with instructors that didn’t want them.

  My students never asked about my absence at the end of the last semester. I assigned grades based on the average of their previous exams and excluded a final. They probably knew something was wrong, but none of them crossed that line.

  Emerson didn’t come to my classes. She didn’t accompany me anywhere anymore. She took the bus to work and home and refused to use Ronnie, so I continued to let Ronnie drive me to work alone.

  At the end of class, I started our office hours, but instead of waiting for questions about the problems I assigned, I leaned against the desk and crossed my arms over my chest. “My company is accepting new interns starting this summer. It’s a paid internship that will last for one year. You guys will be graduating in just a few months, so I suggest you apply.”

  Excitement immediately spread throughout the classroom as the students looked at one another and shared whispers.

  “Apply on my company’s website,” I said. “And just so you know, I’m not the only person in charge of selecting interns, so there will be no bias there. Submit your best resume. Good luck.” I waited for questions about the problems to start, but they were all too excited to care about utilizing the office hours. Instead, they talked among themselves.

  I turned back to my desk and packed up my things.

  Of my students approached. Tyler wasn’t at the top of the class and he wasn’t necessarily at the bottom, but he had a good chance if he wanted to apply. “Dr. Hamilton, what’s the GPA requirement?”

  “There is none.”

  “Really?” he asked in surprise.

  “Entire resumes will be considered, not just grades.”

  “Well, I had a bad semester a few years ago. My dad died…everything went to shit. I think I got all C’s and D’s. Good to know I still have a chance.”

  “Make sure you include that explanation in your application.”

  “So, you think I have a chance?”

  “You wouldn’t be my student if you didn’t have a chance, Tyler. You’re very bright.”

  He nodded. “Thanks, Dr. Hamilton. How many students are you taking?”

  “Forty.”

  “Oh wow. The competition is going to be fierce.”

  “Doesn’t mean you don’t have a chance. Really think about everything you want to submit, stand out, and hope for the best.”

  “Alright. See you next week, Dr. Hamilton.”

  I texted Ryan after I got out of the shower. You want to go out with us?

  Depends. Where are you going?

  Voodoo.

  Eh, I’ll pass.

  Why?

  Dude, I’m married now.

  You used to go out with us when you were engaged.

  Yeah, it’s just different now. Honestly, I wouldn’t have fun anyway. Maybe I’m getting old, I don’t know. The loud music and the expensive drinks that are watered down…just seems like more work than it’s worth.

  Alright.

  You want to have dinner with us before you go? We can do that. Have some food before you pour the booze in?

  Sure.

  Cool. See you soon.

  I left the penthouse and met them at the restaurant. They were already sitting together in the booth when I walked in and joined them. They were still in the honeymoon phase even though they’d been married for almost three months now. His arm was around her, and he leaned in and kissed her as his hand discreetly moved down to squeeze her tit.

  She chuckled against his mouth then smacked his hand away. “Ryan.”

  “Sorry, it’s just a habit.”

  I ignored the inappropriate behavior and waved down the waitress so I could order a beer. “Maybe I should have walked in a few minutes later…”

  “It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Ryan said. “I usually grab her boob every twenty minu
tes.”

  Camille rolled her eyes.

  “What?” Ryan asked innocently. “I married them. I can grab them when I want.”

  “That is not how this works,” Camille said. “How would you feel if I just grabbed your dick all the time?”

  Ryan grinned.

  “Oh, never mind.” Camille grabbed her cocktail and took a drink.

  Ryan waggled his eyebrows. “Grab it right now, baby.”

  She smacked his arm again.

  “Come on, I love your hand jobs—”

  She cupped her hand over his mouth. “Will you shut up?”

  With her hand still over his mouth, he shook his head.

  She turned back to me. “Then I guess I’ll have to leave it here all night.”

  Ryan raised his hand and grabbed her boob again.

  “Oh my god.” She smacked his hand.

  I chuckled as I watched them. “Should I leave or…?”

  “No,” Ryan said. “I don’t care if you watch me grope my wife. And if you get off on it, then maybe I can charge you.”

  “I don’t think he needs to pay for that when he’s fucking supermodels every weekend.” Camille took another drink of her cocktail.

  “Even if I weren’t, I’m good.” The waitress brought my beer, so I took a drink.

  “So, you’re still doing that?” Ryan asked. “The club scene every week…all that.”

  I nodded.

  “And that’s it?” Ryan asked. “Just…the same thing forever?”

  Camille stared at me like she waited for an answer.

  “What else am I supposed to do?” I grabbed the menu and pulled it closer so I could read it.

  “Then that means Emerson is really gone?” Ryan asked tentatively. “I just thought, maybe you’d get back together.”

  “Stop asking me about Emerson.” I was officially fed up. “We’ve been broken up for almost three months now. It’s over. It’s done. I’ve moved on.”

  Camille and Ryan exchanged a silent look before they let it go. “Got it.” Ryan grabbed his menu and took a look. “I’ve got to get the jalapeno poppers. So good.”

  “If you eat those, you won’t be eating anything else later.” Camille held the menu in front of her face as she checked out the selections.

  “Oh, good point.” Ryan took another look. “We’ll do the appetizer quesadilla, instead. Then I’ll get a burger.”

  It amazed me how much Ryan ate but still kept trim in his thirties. “I’m going to do the Caesar salad.”

  “Speaking of Rome.” Ryan dropped his menu. “We booked our trip. We’re going at the end of May.”

  “We’re soooo excited,” Camille said. “Thank you so much.”

  “Great,” I said. “I’m happy for you guys.”

  “We’re going before the crowds,” Ryan said. “You know, because I like to grope my wife in public.”

  Camille rolled her eyes, but the action was accompanied by a smile.

  We talked about their upcoming trip for a while before the conversation moved back to me.

  “How’s the next book coming along?” Ryan asked.

  “I haven’t started.” I hadn’t given it any thought at all. “In fact, I got an email from my publisher, asking for an update.”

  “What did you say?” Ryan asked.

  “Nothing.” I drank from my beer again.

  “You can just do that?” Ryan asked. “Ignore them?”

  “I’ve just been busy with the new internship program, my classes, shit like that.” I didn’t want to write the book anyway. Even though the last book was really successful, I just had no drive. It was like I’d forgotten about the characters.

  “But you can’t ignore them forever, right?” Ryan asked. “What will they do?”

  I shrugged. “I hold all the cards, so there’s nothing they can do. They either wait until I’m done or blow up my inbox. I don’t give a damn.”

  “Wow.” Ryan turned to Camille. “I wish I could act like that at work. That’d be nice.”

  “I don’t,” Camille said with a laugh. “Because we need to pay rent. And if we don’t pay rent, no more titties.”

  “Oh shit,” Ryan said. “Maybe I should go for the employee of the year thing. then.”

  “If it comes with a raise?” Camille turned to him. “Then you can grab them in public all you want.”

  He turned to me and grinned. “Ooh, I’m on it.”

  On Sunday morning, my dad texted me. Hey, you think you could come over for dinner tonight? We have something we want to talk to you about.

  I can’t tonight. Maybe next week. He’d asked me a couple times, but I really had a lot going on. I felt like I was busier than ever, like I was spread too thin.

  Alright. Can we lock it in next week? I’d really like to see you.

  Sure. I’ll see you then.

  8

  Emerson

  The call I’d been waiting all day for finally came.

  I was in the corporate office when I answered. “This is Emerson.”

  “Hello, Emerson. This is Sheila from the Lambert Firm.”

  “Thanks for calling. I hope you have some good news for me.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t. We actually filled the position. But you were one of our top picks.”

  I lowered myself into the chair behind the desk and felt the disappointment hit me hard. I was so fucking tired of getting so close to landing these jobs and then being edged out by somebody else. I’d tried to go back to my old publisher, but that bridge had been burned when they gave me a position and I declined it later…when Derek asked me to stay. Now I was in the job market competing with a bazillion people. I bet I would have a better chance if I could get a recommendation from Derek, but I refused to ask. It would probably be generic and empty anyway. Literally useless. “I understand. Thank you for calling.”

  “We had a lot of applicants for the position, so don’t feel too bad.”

  “No, I understand. Thank you.” I hung up and sighed loudly, so frustrated that I was stuck in a job I hated with a man I despised. All the jobs with incomes even remotely close to mine were being filled by people more qualified than me, and I kept getting screwed over. “I wish I’d never started here.” I was alone in the office, but I said the words out loud…even though no one was listening. “I wish I’d never met Derek fucking Hamilton.”

  After dinner, we grabbed ice cream cones from a street vendor and walked home.

  Paul and I met through a dating app. We went out a couple times, and he was nice enough. He had a good job as a pharmacist. He was clearly smart, just a little dull sometimes. He walked beside me and licked his cone. “How’s yours?”

  “Good, even though it’s pretty cold outside.”

  He chuckled. “We’ll get an early spring this year. I can feel it.” He was handsome enough, but not ripped like Derek had been. But finding a single guy at thirty was difficult, so I knew I had to lower my standards.

  “Hope you’re right.”

  He walked me down the street then stopped in front of my apartment. “So, you think I can come up?”

  I’d only gone to his place, but I never spent the night. I always came home afterward. I hadn’t told him about Lizzie, and it wasn’t on my profile. When I did have it on my profile, I literally got no interest. My account turned stale and got covered in cobwebs. When I just wanted to hook up, they couldn’t care less, but when I actually wanted a relationship, I couldn’t get the time of day from anyone. I felt guilty for lying, but if a guy actually got to know me, he wouldn’t care about Lizzie…like Derek. “I would, but…” We’d been out at least five times, so I thought now was the time to tell him. “There’s something you should know about me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

  He grinned. “Still live with your parents? I’m not going to judge you. It happens.”

  “No, but I do have a roommate.”

  “Oh?” he asked. “A roommate from hell?”

  “No
, not that either.” If he just stopped guessing, I could tell him. “I actually live with my daughter.”

  His face turned paler than the vanilla ice cream on his cone.

  “She’s thirteen.”

  Now, his eyes widened. “Uh, why didn’t you tell me you had a daughter?”

  “I just feel like that’s all people focus on before getting to know me—”

  “So, you lie?” he snapped. “You’ve fucking wasted my time for three weeks. I could have been with somebody else. I knew you were too good to be true. You got knocked up, and I bet the guy’s in prison, right?”

  “No. I just—”

  “Fuck this.” He threw his ice cream in the garbage. “You know how many dinners and shit I paid for?”

  “I paid for stuff too—”

  “I want my money back.”

  I couldn’t believe this was happening, that anyone could have this kind of reaction. “And you got sex—”

  “You still wasted my time. You can Venmo me. At least two hundred dollars.” He walked off without looking back, leaving me outside my apartment building, and crossing the street just to put as much distance between us as possible.

  I looked at the ice cream cone in my hand and watched the melting part drip down the sides. I released a sigh before I threw it in the garbage then took a seat on the stoop that led to the front doors of my building.

  I didn’t want to go inside, not when I felt so terrible, not when I was on the verge of tears.

  I sniffed before they overflowed and fell down my cheeks. Pathetic, I cried outside on the stoop as people passed on the sidewalk, hitting a new layer of rock bottom with every single passing week.

  I didn’t cry because I lost Paul.

  I cried because my life had been perfect, so deliriously perfect that I thought it was a dream.

  Now, I was back in reality…and I was miserable.

  Cleo texted me. Hey, girl. Just wanted to check in. Haven’t talked to you in a while.