I suddenly felt exhausted and defeated. All of this time, I kept telling myself a respectable career, and honest income would change who I was, but maybe nothing could. Switching my name from Mudd to Johansson certainly hadn’t erased any secrets. It merely hid them.
Micah knew me better than most, and he was willing to overlook my past, perhaps because he had a tarnished history as well. Maybe we were better suited for each other than we realized, two hardened scorpions pretending to be civilized. At least with him, I’d know I was safe. I trusted our agreement, and if I took up his offer, I never had to fear being alone.
He took my hands in his, and I braced for the hard truth I sensed coming. “To him, you’re a plaything, a hobby. When you give away something of value for free, it becomes a little less precious each day. He’s young and handsome, and I’m sure charming on some level, but he’s temporary, Avery. Don’t let one transient relationship derail your path when you’ve come this far. Stay focused on the goal, and you’ll get everything you ever wanted.”
My chest constricted. Everything Noah and I shared turned to ash the moment he looked up at me with blood in his eye and called me a scorpion.
My head lowered as I blinked back tears, refusing to let them fall in Micah’s presence. “You’re right. I need to concentrate on graduating and start thinking about where I go from here.”
“There’s the smart woman I know.” He lifted my chin, his eyes watchful. “The ache’s temporary, love. You’ll see.” He kissed my fingertips and stood. “I’m going to say goodnight now.”
I stood and followed him to the door. I wasn’t going back in the hall, but there was a sort of protocol Micah, and I shared. I still had to honor that.
I walked him to the door. “Good night, Micah.”
He brushed a finger down my cheek and stared into my eyes. “We were interrupted earlier, so I’m going to give this another try. Stay still.” His head lowered and breath held in my lungs as his warm lips pressed into mine.
It was a soft kiss, sensual and slow, his full lips teasing in a way that differed from what I was used to. This was a new side to us, something that started after he mentioned renegotiating our association post-graduation—something I still struggled to accept.
He pulled away, and my eyes blinked open, too preoccupied with other thoughts to notice any flutters or chills such a kiss should have created.
“Good night, Avery.” He let himself out, and I hung by the door.
When I heard the elevator come and go, I peeked into the hallway. Noah’s door was shut, no light shining from beneath.
33
Avery
The bitter wind cut through my clothes as I stood outside of the place I’d grown up—the place that never fit the word home. The ransacked yard wore a dusty scruff of brown grass and frosted leaves. Faded, broken lanterns hung like ghosts of merrier times, relics that were once colorful, now a bleak reminder that nothing exciting happened here anymore.
I tightened my arms, not ready to go inside. Cars filled every sanded drive like blemished trophies that no longer served a purpose. The majority of folks in Blackwater were unemployed with nowhere to go.
Bare trees curled like talons, reaching as if they, too, wanted to get out. But people from Blackwater rarely escaped. I was one of the few exceptions.
Breath formed a cloud of vapor in front of my face as I proceeded to the door. The rattle of daytime television penetrated the thin windows. My worn key turned in the lock, and I shut my eyes, bracing for the unwelcome reality on the other side.
The rancid scent of unwashed laundry battled the stale stench of cigarette smoke. My mother, buried in a mix of laundry and blankets, snored on the couch. Plates and paperwork covered the coffee table. The carpet had a few new stains, but the old ones were mostly covered by boxes of God knows what.
A talk show played on the dated television set, the screen scrambling every other second. Not finding the chill I expected, I moved toward the kitchen.
“Jesus.” My disgust cranked another notch higher.
Dried macaroni, crumbs, and other grime coated the small counter. Unwashed pots and pans were pushed to the back of the stove, a different color film on the inside of each one. I tried not to look in the corners, certain I’d find mouse shit mixing with crumbs.
Shaking my head, I shut the oven door, which was where the heat was coming from and turned the dial to OFF. She was going to burn the place down.
Dropping my bag on the only chair that wasn’t covered with crap, I scanned the trailer, knowing I couldn’t let anyone see her living this way—not even the fuel company scheduled to come out with the replacement boiler. I had a little over two hours to clean this place up and about four years of filth to disinfect.
I searched the cabinets for trash bags and any cleaning products I could find. The sink was overflowing with crusty dishes, the stench of rotting food so thick it burned my sinuses and turned my stomach. I dumped several plates of rotting food, wrappers, brimming ashtrays, and soiled tissues into the bag, which was soon full.
I feared what I might find in the bathroom and bedrooms. This was never going to get clean in two hours. Tying off the garbage, I tossed it out the front door and didn’t care when it slammed shut.
My mother stirred and grunted. “Avery Dean? What are you doin’ here?”
“I came to see that your boiler was installed.”
She sat up, her hair so thin I could see her scalp and her clothing wrinkled and stained. “You got me a boiler?”
“I told you I did.” It wasn’t like I had a choice. Now if I could just tell her this was the end of my taking care of her. But something held my tongue.
I didn’t have thousands of dollars lying around, and I couldn’t keep doing this. Asking Micah for help was more than I could stomach. I hated debt, especially the sort people wouldn’t let you pay back, the sort of debt you could never quite calculate in terms of a loan.
I grimaced as she leaned forward and sipped from a random cup on the table. “They’re coming in two hours, Momma. We need to clean up this pigsty.”
She rubbed her eyes and yawned, showing a gaping hole of stained teeth and gums. “Let me find my teeth.”
The sight of her fishing dentures out of a coffee mug and popping them into her mouth was enough to make me gag. I looked away in disgust, swamped by the overwhelming urge to run out of there.
“How are you living in this filth, Mom?”
She scoffed. “Don’t you come home—first time in almost four years—and judge me. I don’t got no one here to help with things.”
“It’s just you. How can one person make such a mess? You can’t keep bringing junk home.”
“Avery Dean, if you think I’m gonna be criticized in my own house, you got another think coming.” She reached under the coffee table and lifted what looked like a dead rodent, placing the ratty, old wig on her head. “How long’s this gonna take? I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Cleaning or the installation? One should only take an hour or so.” I counted nine overflowing boxes of crap in the living room alone. “Cleaning could take weeks.”
She stood and grumbled something about needing coffee.
I followed her to the kitchen and watched in disgust as coffee grounds spilled onto the counter. She made no move to clean them up. Not like it mattered.
When she went to use the bathroom, I got to work. I shoved everything out of the way and set out—what I hoped was—a clean dishtowel and started washing. As I heard her return, I said, “Start bringing me dishes.”
“I haven’t had my coffee yet.”
“Well, you can bring me dishes while it’s brewing. We don’t have a lot of time.”
“Lord knows you probably gotta rush out of here soon as they’re done,” she grumbled, collecting plates and cups off the counter.
The cabinets were mostly empty, so, once I dusted out the crumbs, I started stacking clean dishes in there. More trash bags filled
and I expected to see a notable difference, but there really wasn’t one.
“We have to crack a window. It reeks in here.”
Several ashtrays overflowed, and I resented the sight, not for health reasons, but because this woman cried poverty and poor me but threw away six or more dollars a day to support yet another bad habit.
“It’s too cold to open a window. And why’d you shut my oven off.”
“You’ll start a fire that way. And if you move around you won’t be as cold.” I shut off the television, hoping she’d finish her coffee, snuff out her morning smoke, and get up off her ass.
“I was watching that—”
“Enough!” I snapped. “I came here to help you, and you aren’t the least bit appreciative. I’m not cleaning your house alone. Get up, grab a laundry basket, and start doing something with all these clothes!”
Her level stare burned into me as she swept the smoking filter of her cigarette against the bottom of the ashtray. “Well.”
I didn’t linger to hear what else she had to say. There was too much to do, and we only had an hour until the boiler people showed up.
34
Noah
The floor had been quiet all day, which seemed unusual, but under the circumstances probably made perfect sense. I wandered downstairs and checked the mail.
“How’s it going, Winston?”
“Can’t complain,” the doorman nodded his usual greeting.
“Quiet here today.”
Winston cocked his head. “Seems like a normal Saturday.”
“Maybe it’s just my floor.”
“Ah, well that’s probably due to Ms. Johansson running out of here early this morning.”
Bingo. “Huh. Probably. Did she say where she was heading?”
Winston raised a brow. I didn’t think he got a copy of Avery’s itinerary, but I understood he wouldn’t share those details even if he knew where she went.
“Right. Okay then. Guess I’ll just head back upstairs and watch some TV.”
“You do that. Seeing as she took a bus and not a fancy car, I imagine she was traveling someplace far.”
I turned and grinned. “Thanks, Winston.”
He nodded as if no thanks was necessary, but I was grateful for the information. My stomach was grateful.
If Avery took a bus, she probably wasn’t out with that asshole or some other asshole. And she wasn’t on campus. So where was she?
I had time to kill before any big decisions needed to be made. Thank God, because I wasn’t ready to face her yet. Maybe I’d never be. Last night she chose him over me.
“Fuck that guy,” I grumbled, picking up the remote.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to defend her honor and knock him out, but the fucking ox had me on my back in two seconds flat.
Bullshit.
I checked my phone. Still no texts from Avery.
What did she have to be angry about? No one punched her. Her life was still the same revolving door of insignificant men it had always been. And here I was, the fool wearing a black eye for a girl who chose the other man. What was wrong with this picture?
I was getting a little sick and tired of calling my sister. I was on cloud nine, then I was down in the dumps. Then everything was great again, and then I was icing a black eye. She was getting whiplash from my social life, and hers wasn’t much better.
How much longer did I intend to let this go on? This woman was derailing my life, and I was letting it happen. I was the fucking frog, and she was the fucking scorpion. She’d probably never change.
That jerkoff kissed her, and she let him. She was kidding herself if she thought she’d graduate and leave this part of her life behind. Life didn’t work like that. People’s pasts didn’t just disappear.
And I wasn’t a fucking idiot. That guy's intentions were clear. He was looking for more than her company. Why couldn’t she see that? Or maybe she did and just wanted to keep her options open.
It couldn’t be a money thing. I had enough to live more than comfortably. Was she attracted to the guy? Could that be it? There had to be something more than work keeping her loyal to him.
I growled and tossed the remote away. “Fuck!”
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I winced as I applied too much pressure, forgetting about my black eye. “What’s he offering her that I’m not?”
If I knew his full name, I could look into his situation. Lucy was great at research. She could get me his social security number and blood type by five if I just knew his last name. Maybe she didn’t need a last name. Micah wasn’t too common of a first name. Maybe that was enough of a start.
I dialed my assistant, completely overlooking the fact that it was the weekend.
“Noah?”
“Lucy, hey. I need you to do me a favor.”
“Sure. Is everything all right?”
“Where are you?”
“At my nephew’s first birthday, but I can leave if you need something.”
Children’s voices registered in the background, and I couldn’t think.
“Noah? Do you need me to run to the office or drop something off to you at home?”
What was I doing? She was with her family, and I was behaving like a lunatic. “No. Everything’s fine, Lucy. Enjoy your day with your nephew.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind—”
“Positive. I’ll see you on Monday.” I hung up the phone and threw it out of reach.
The concern in Lucy’s voice was the wake-up call I needed. Shoving off the couch, I went to my room, stripped my bed, and carried the sheets down to the laundry facility in the basement. I needed every trace of her gone. I couldn’t do this anymore.
While I waited for the wash, I toyed with my phone settings and put a block on Avery’s number. If she didn’t have the guts to face this thing head on she didn’t have what it takes to be in a relationship. I needed a mature woman, not a child.
If she wanted the same things I wanted, she’d be here. But she wasn’t. She was God knew where doing God knew what and I needed to let her go.
35
Avery
As the service van pulled away, I stood in the cold, holding a receipt for my last good deed. My mother’s trailer wasn’t clean, but it was in much better shape than it had been that morning.
I checked my phone for the time, and an unwelcome pain cinched around my heart when I also noticed Noah hadn’t called or texted. My finger pressed against his number and after half a ring it dumped—purposely—into voicemail.
“Hey. It’s me. I … wanted to check if you were okay. I’m not home right now, but I’m thinking about you.”
A pathetic laugh slipped past my lips.
“I’m always thinking about you when I shouldn’t be.” I stared into the wind, and a tear gathered in the corner of my eye. “You must think I’m horrible for going with him last night. It’s complicated. Life has gotten so much more complicated. Anyway… I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
I ended the call. I couldn’t think about him in this place. I couldn’t think of anything beyond getting the fuck out of here and washing the residue of grime away. I needed to get back to the train station by dusk, or I’d end up sleeping here, something I swore I’d never do again.
Lingering on the front lawn, I stared at the empty road. My feet carried me down familiar paths, and I was rounding the block before having the sense to grab my coat.
Everything looked the same or worse. The pen where the mean old pit-bull lived was now empty. A metal chain and empty bowl sat in a collection of fallen leaves. I hated that dog, as it tried to bite me on more than a few occasions, but I was sad to think he was dead. What a sorry life, trapped in a pen in Blackwater with nothing but sorry lives to bark at.
Even the dogs here deserved better. The people here could at least try to leave, but most chose to settle for shit. That dog didn’t have a choice. Poor thing.
I knew where I was heading
, but I wasn’t prepared to find the rusted shell of my past sitting untouched, eerie, as if I was just here yesterday. I’d assumed Gavin’s lot would have been sold to someone else by now, but there his home sat, frozen in time, a forgotten husk of life corroded by seasons and memories no one cared about enough to put away.
I cared. I cared, and I still couldn’t bring myself to come home for his funeral.
A faded pink slip was taped over the door where the screen met the frame. I walked the perimeter and picked up a rock. When I reached the back of the trailer where the bedroom was, I whacked the rock against the rusted lock and shimmied the window open.
Hoisting myself over the frame, I tumbled inside. The air was cold, about ten degrees lower than outside. His furniture was empty and free of clutter, but his blankets were still on the bed.
Lowering to the mattress, my hands rested at my sides, curling into the cold comforter as I stared. This room used to be my sanctuary, the one safe place I could go to escape the madness at home.
My vision blurred as I recalled how many days I’d spent here, learning who I was and realizing I needed more than Blackwater could ever offer.
* * *
Gavin’s fingers combed through my hair as I sucked in a shuddered breath, my face pressing to the tear-dampened front of his shirt. My brother Drew was gone, and I’d never felt so abandoned.
“He’ll visit, Avery Dean.”
Maybe we both had to tell ourselves such lies to cope with the finality of his goodbye. Gavin had been Drew’s best friend, and I knew he was as sad as I was, but guys hid their emotions better than girls.
There was an old nursery rhyme that said boys were made of frogs, snails, and puppy-dog tails but young men were made of sighs, leers, and crocodile tears. Where were his tears now? I needed to see his emotions to believe they were real.
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