Some Call It Love

by Sarah Peis

  And with that he was gone. If only I knew at that moment that my life had just taken a tumble down the rabbit hole.

  I woke up having slept very little and no closer to getting the money than I was the night before. After tossing and turning for most of the night, I gave up and stumbled out of bed bleary eyed before it was even light outside.

  This was unheard of. On my rare days off from the Sweet Dreams bakery, I would sleep until noon. I usually worked there from four in the morning until around ten. So a lie-in was an absolute treat.

  Since I suddenly had a lot of free time on my hands, I worked on my paper. I even made it to class on time.

  However, if I ever wanted to sleep again, I needed to find out what Dad had done. I didn’t know why I bothered coming to campus at all. I had no idea what any of my professors had said that day. Thoughts of paying off money that I didn’t owe and certainly didn’t have consumed my every thought. I didn’t even remember how I got from one class to the next, or what I had for lunch. Wait, did I have lunch?

  When we were finally released after my last session for the day, I gratefully grabbed the notebook that only contained scribbles and the half-eaten breakfast bar I’d absentmindedly nibbled on and stuffed them in my bag. Before I had a chance to make a quick escape, a hand on my arm stopped me.

  “Willa. What is going on with you today? Did you hear a word I just said?”

  I turned to face an annoyed-looking Maisie. “Sorry, just got a lot on my mind. Try me again, and I promise I’ll listen this time.”

  Maisie huffed out an exasperated breath. “Fine. I asked if you are still coming tonight.”

  She rolled her eyes at my blank look.

  “Remy’s party?”

  Nope, didn’t ring a bell. And the last thing I had time for was a party. She knew I hated those with a passion. Why she would insist I come along was a mystery to be solved another day.

  “I can’t. Have to go see my dad, and I was supposed to be working at the Donut Hole.”

  “I know you think you have some kind of responsibility to take care of him, but he’s a grown man. He can take care of himself. It’s time for you to realize that. Stop trying to save him.”

  The ever-present shame of my dad washed over me. I had been taking care of him for as long as I could remember.

  The first memory I have of Dad is making him toast after Uncle Des brought him back from the police station. When I was nine, I had long taken over cooking us meals and doing the laundry. By the time I was fifteen, I had picked him up from Las Vegas because he had literally gambled all his money and possessions away, and hiding him from debt collectors was a regular occurrence.

  I taught myself how to forge his signature to be able to pay our bills and lock him out of the account. That last one only lasted until he couldn’t get money for his bar tab.

  He was never violent. No matter how drunk or high he got, he would never lay a finger on me. He would make a mess and get too smashed to work, but he never once hurt me. He always had a kind word to say—except when I locked him out of his bank account. But when he wasn’t drunk, things were great.

  Unfortunately he was never sober for long, and every time he went on one of his binges, I wouldn’t see him for days. Was it exhausting? Definitely. Did I have days I was ready to tell him to fuck off? Absolutely. But things were never black and white, and my dad hadn’t always been this way. Or so I was told by Uncle Des.

  I loved him fiercely, and I was protective, so anyone suggesting I should step back never sat well with me.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. He needs me. And I’m going over there today instead of sitting at a pointless party, drinking warm beer while listening to some cocky jock droning on and on about the great passes he made at the game.”

  Maisie started to protest, but I cut her off. “I know that’s the kind of party you’re going to. You love football players. And don’t deny it because all of the guys you’ve hooked up with since Ray have been big-headed, broad-shouldered, and on the team. I just can’t go tonight. I’m sorry.”

  I knew I had won when Maisie tilted her head and puckered her lips expertly into an adorable pout. “Fine. But don’t think you’ll get away that easily. I’m leaving in a few days.”

  She didn’t need to remind me that I would be on my own for the summer. No chance I would ever forget. “And I’m going to spend time with you before you leave. Just not at another party. Now let me get out of here, or Dad will be too far gone to talk to me.”

  “All right, go on then and be the knight in shining armor once again. I hope he knows how epic you are.”

  I kissed her cheek before sprinting up the steps and out of the lecture hall. My bike was still where I had chained it to the bench outside. My car broke down again this morning, so I was back to riding my trusted bicycle. It was old, it was rusty, and more often than not, the chain came off. But until I had the money to replace my radiator, it would have to do.

  The ride out to the trailer park my dad and uncle lived in was short, one of the advantages of living in a small town. One of the only advantages.

  I waved at Mrs. Mandoon on my way through. Her dog Stevie in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, she looked fit to meet the queen. Always impeccably dressed, today was no exception. Not a white hair on her head was out of place, her pressed slacks and cream blouse spotless.

  I regularly visited her for her world-famous muffins, a tradition that had started when she first moved in ten years ago after her husband made an epically bad investment in rubber ducks. He was now selling cars over on Fourth Street, but his income barely covered the rent for their trailer these days. Despite that, she always had cookies at the ready and a cup of tea filled whenever I came over.

  I pulled up outside the old trailer that had seen better days. Dad had sold the wheels years ago and propped it on blocks instead. He was not planning on moving it and always said he would stay there until the day he died. Uncle Des lived next door; his trailer wasn’t looking much better, but at least it had all its wheels and windows that opened.

  “Killa, hon, what are you doing here? Don’t you have class?” Uncle Des called out from his position on the sofa he insisted had to stay outside year-round. According to him, outside was the only way to watch his big television.

  “Stop calling me that. You know I hate it.”

  “You earned it fair and square. It was either you or the spider. Kill or be killed. And my little Killa came out victorious.” Des smirked at me.

  I was terrified of spiders but refused to kill them. Both my uncle and Dad were out during the fateful day I received my nickname and was forced to squash a spider. I was so upset over killing it that I cried and refused to leave my room for a few hours.

  “Is Dad in?”

  “He’s taking a nap.”

  “Everything okay?”

  Des avoided my gaze and stared with rapt attention at the gigantic flat-screen just inside his trailer. I bet tampon commercials were really interesting to him these days. He only moved inside when it rained, because according to him fresh air was as important as eating your daily greens.

  “What happened?” I probed, pretty sure I already knew the answer.

  “Nothing. Why would anything have happened? He was just tired. Can’t a man be tired? Everyone likes a good nap. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Des. How bad is it? Worse than last year?” I didn’t need an answer. His refusal to look at me said it all.

  The door to my dad’s trailer was gone, lying neglected on the grass. He must have forgotten his key again.

  I made my way into the trailer, through the messy lounge, and into Dad’s bedroom. Sure enough he was passed out on his bed, fully dressed with dried puke in his hair and on his clothes. Great, now I had to change the sheets again. He was getting worse, and nothing I said or did helped. I was out of ideas.

  I carefully shook his shoulder and hoped it wouldn’t cause him to spew again. I knew from e
xperience even the slightest movement could set him off.

  A long groan tore out of him, his big body slowly rolling over. I stepped back just in case, but it seemed that wasn’t necessary today.

  “Willa?” He blinked at me in confusion. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class? What are you doing here?”

  “It’s Friday. I finish early on Fridays. Something you should know since I pinned my schedule to your fridge and come over to cook for you every week.” Disappointment hit me like a freight train.

  He forgot my birthdays most of the time, and I would be surprised if he knew how old I was. I was used to his indifference, but sometimes the armor that I’d managed to build around myself got chipped and it hurt more than I could handle. Today was one of those days.

  He wasn’t the only one who’d lost someone.

  “Sorry I woke you. I gotta go, just remembered I was supposed to meet Maisie,” I said, desperate for an excuse to leave.

  Dad didn’t reply. Instead, he just rolled over and went back to sleep. Must have been a big bender if he didn’t even say goodbye.

  I ground my teeth, knowing I would forgive him like I did every time, but his dismissal hurt.

  The trailer felt suffocating; the stale smell of food and dirty clothes overbearing. I left without cleaning any of the dishes piling up or doing the laundry that was scattered across the floor. It was a terrible mess, but for once I didn’t care. As soon as I stepped outside, I inhaled deeply, the fresh air helping to clear the odor out of my nose.

  “Killa, do you think I should wear the Hawaiian shirt or the pink one for my date tonight?” Uncle Des said, holding up the two shirts in question. I ignored him and picked up my bike. The urge to get as far away from this place as possible was all-consuming. “Darling, where are you going?”

  If Dad couldn’t tell me how the hell he lost twenty grand, Des sure could. “What do you know about the money Dad owes the Drakes?”

  Des clutched the shirts tighter, not meeting my eyes. And I had my answer.

  He lifted his gaze, his eyes wide, the shirts now cradled to his chest. “Little rose, he thought it was a sure bet. Chances of losing were small. If the driver hadn’t lost control over his car at the last corner, your dad woulda made a lotta money.

  Same excuse, different bet. I had nothing left to say to him and turned away from his pleading eyes. “I’ll see you later, Des.”

  I jumped on my bike and pedaled as hard as I could, desperate to put distance between me and my family. I didn’t notice the tears until my vision blurred. I refused to stop, the only thing on my mind was to get back to my apartment and hide. My life was tumbling out of control, and I had no idea how to get it back on track.

  I somehow made it without crashing. I struggled with the front door of the apartment complex as usual. The bitch always got stuck at the halfway point and only opened further if you pushed with the strength of a thousand angry kittens. On a normal day, I could have fit through the gap, but with my bike I struggled.

  I was still crying, the tears unstoppable and making me angry. I have never liked crying. I was sure the door was now mocking me, and I punched it hard, causing pain to shoot through my hand. “Fuck you, you fucking useless piece of decaying wood. If you don’t want to draw your last breath, you better open.” I kicked it, and now my toes were hurting too. “Fuck.” And just for good measure, I added another one. “Fuck.”

  I was now wedged between the door and my bike with a throbbing hand and foot. The door, of course, hadn’t moved an inch. The fucker never did.

  “Feel better?” someone asked from behind me.

  And I had to admit I actually did feel better. My tears had finally stopped falling, and the fog had lifted from my brain. I wasn’t sure how much damage I had done to myself, but I was fairly certain that I wasn’t strong enough to break any bones with my twiggy arms.

  I turned around and jolted back, smashing into my bike when I saw who was there. The handlebar dug into my back, and I huffed out in pain. I did not expect to see him again so soon. I wasn’t ready. And I certainly didn’t magically come up with the money. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Shit, you all right?” Jameson asked and reached his hand out to me. I flinched back and he immediately dropped it.

  “I’m fine.” I turned around and wiggled the bike handle that was wedged between the door and wall. It didn’t budge. And why would it if it could so easily make my humiliation complete. Demon bike.

  I felt Jameson’s heat at my back and tensed. “Here, let me.” His arm came around my waist and he pulled me back. I was too stunned to protest and let him guide me back like a little clueless lamb.

  He was touching me. His arm was around my body. His chest was pressed to my back. And just like that, I forgot how to breathe or talk.

  He released me once I was outside and took up the position I was previously in. One shove against the door and it opened. Of course it did. Smug bastard door.

  Jameson pushed the bike inside and stopped to wait for me. I looked at my feet, wondering why they weren’t moving. Nope, not stuck to the floor and definitely still attached to my body. Another sneaky glance from under my lashes confirmed Jameson was still there.

  My feet finally decided to do my bidding, and I followed him inside. He carried my bike up to my floor and waited patiently while I unlocked the door. He didn’t wait for an invitation but instead walked past me, leaving the bike next to the door.

  “I found a way for you to pay off your debt,” he announced.

  “It’s not my debt! So you don’t need to find a way for me to pay it off. Because I won’t pay off what I don’t owe.”

  “Are we back to that again?” Jameson stalked toward me, and I shrank back into the kitchen. I hit the counter and watched with big eyes as he stalked closer and reached inside his pocket. I hoped he didn’t think of this as the way to pay him off. Because there was no way. No matter how hot he was. Or how much I liked his eyes. Or his arms. Or his chest. Hair. Okay, I guess you get the point. But I would never sell myself. I had more pride than that.

  He pulled papers out of his pocket and handed them to me.

  I eyed them suspiciously but took them anyway, too curious to find out what they said.

  The top of the page read “work contract,” and I couldn’t have been more surprised. “Are you offering me a job?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  “I am. You can work for me full time over the summer and make a dent in your dad’s debt. Once classes start again, you can do a few hours a week.”

  I was too stunned to do more than stumble toward my couch and sink down into the soft cushion. I landed on something hard, and when I put my hand underneath my butt to get it out, I froze. The dildo Maisie had given me the other day, the very one I had carelessly flung on the couch after unpacking it, was now poking me in the butt. I discreetly pushed it further underneath me, all the while praying Jameson wouldn’t notice.

  He had taken a seat on the other side of the couch, watching me shuffle back and forth. “I checked your finances. You are in more trouble than I thought.”

  “You did what?”

  He ignored my outraged shriek and continued, “You’re broke.”

  A snort escaped before I could stop it. “Thanks, Sherlock. That’s not exactly news to me.”

  “So how do you propose you pay me back?”

  I threw up my hands and waved them around. Why? I’m not sure. Maybe because I was upset. Maybe because if I didn’t move something I’d try and lunge at him and his stubbornness. Rock-bottom, meet Willa.

  “As I told you before, I don’t gamble. Therefore, I don’t owe you any money. So why don’t you leave me alone and get out of my apartment? I have things to do.”

  His mesmerizing eyes pierced me with their intensity, and I gulped the saliva accumulating in my mouth. Must. Not. Drool.

  “We all know your dad isn’t going to pay me back. That leaves you.”

  My mouth went dry, and I reali
zed it was pointless to continue arguing with him. “Since you know how broke I am, what do you propose I’ll do to pay you back? Eat fairy dust and shit gold? I already have a job and don’t see how I can add another one.”

  His lips twitched, but he didn’t let himself smile. I bet he had a gorgeous smile. His lips were nice and full, his teeth straight, and I thought I glimpsed a hint of a dimple earlier. He ignored my smart-ass comment and narrowed his eyes at me. “You can work your debt off until you find a way to pay me back.”

  There was simply no reasoning with this man, and the only way to get him out of my apartment was to agree. “Fine. I’ll do it. I have one more week of classes. After that I’ll be free to work for you during the day. Now can you go?”

  He studied me a moment longer, and I wished the floor would open up and suck me in. Anything would be better than being judged by Jameson.

  “I’ll message you the details.” He got up. “And, Willa, don’t think I won’t come after you if you don’t show up. I’m not a nice guy.”

  “No kidding. And here I thought I finally met the man of my dreams.” Since I was already at the bottom, might as well bang my head against it a few times to make it worthwhile.

  He studied me for a moment before he shook his head and left. I had no time to feel sorry for myself because I had to get ready for my shift at the Donut Hole, a second job that I had to take to be able to pay Dad’s bills and that I hated with a passion.

  My night at the Donut Hole was long and busy. Jack, the owner, showed up halfway through the night, and like the drill sergeant he was, he yelled at us the whole way through the rest of our shifts. Steffi and Lynn ground their teeth every time he strutted past and made sure to get away as fast as possible.

  I wasn’t so lucky or coordinated and half the time was left with a lecture. A few months ago, he decided we all had to wear roller skates for work. I mean, seriously, did he not realize how hard it was to hold your tray steady while walking on your own two feet? Add a few wheels and you were screwed, and not in the way you wanted to be.