Petty Rage: Westbrook Blues Book 4

by Mpofu, Thandiwe

  I expect her to beg some more, but she doesn’t. Instead, in that moment, it feels like I have my mother back, that she’s present with me and she can comprehend what’s happening.

  “Take care,” she whispers brokenly as a tear rolls down her hollow cheek.

  Those two words knock the breath out of my lungs.

  Everything in me tightens but all I can do is nod.

  I take her in for as long as I can. Her beautiful face, sullen by an illness she never wanted to fight. Her eyes, so heavy and lifeless with longing for a man who hurt her, used her, and in turn did the same to me.

  I’ve been with my mother almost all my life but now…

  I turn on my heel to leave.

  “We’ll be seeing each other soon, sweetheart!” the man calls out, but I don’t stop moving.

  Instead, I back out of the room and run straight for my room, the one I’ve been living in since moving to Westbrook Blues with my one assignment—follow Astraea and her Boys then report back.

  I’ve lived life on the run for a while, so I don’t hesitate as I start packing with quick, efficient movements, making no noise at all.

  I grab the to-go bag that I always keep at the back of my closet. I thought it was well hidden but unfortunately not, since Luci stole the money.

  But I don’t have time to dwell on that.

  I grab the bag that has everything important of mine and my sisters, all our documents, including our passports, the various medicines that my sisters need and all the portable equipment that one of them needs to stay alive.

  I grab it all and stuff it in the big bag then zip it closed.

  I go straight for the girls’ room and grab some of their clothes, not all, then run back to my room to stuff it in the other bag.

  Maybe I’m being irrational. Maybe I’m just paranoid, but I can sense trouble in the air.

  I saw the way that man was looking at me. I saw the gun on the floor.

  We have to go.

  Thank God I always keep these packed.

  I chuck the bags through the window, then I crumple the place just a bit to make it seem like I’ll be back, but the truth is, I have no idea.

  I head out, acting as normal as I can without raising suspicion. For all I know, someone is watching.

  As soon as I’m out the door, I dial Ivy’s number.

  “Hey bitch! I’m getting stuff ready for baby Laura’s party. I’ll be right there.”

  “Change of plans, Ivy.”

  I can almost feel her snap to attention.

  “What do you need?”

  “Can you do the party at your place? Would Marie mind?”

  “Not at all. What else?”

  “What?”

  “You sound out of breath and your voice is strained. What else do you need?”

  “I just… her friends… we can’t…”

  “I’ll cover that.”

  “I don’t have an excuse.”

  “Kimberly, listen to me. Everything’s going to be just fine. All you need to do is be here.”

  “Nothing will keep me,” I vow. “Is your brother home?”

  “No, but let me text you his number.”

  “Thanks bitch! You just saved my day.”

  “I got you, bitch!”

  We hang up. Ivy is one of the most unexpected gifts this life has given. She’s always there. Reads people like she’s reading one of her thousand books per week. She’s incredibly smart, graceful, elegant; but I knew there was a bad bitch just underneath that sweet exterior.

  I’ve seen the girl knock a douchebag out and pretend like nothing happened.

  I get to the car, open the trunk and stuff the bags in.

  But I know one thing, any one of the goons in Luci’s room might’ve seen this car, which means I need to get rid of it.

  All those years being trained to be a killer kick in.

  Getting in the car, I peel out of there like I’m being chased by Formula 1 cars. I can’t help how sweaty my palms are or the way my heart is racing.

  As I drive, I dial Spider’s number.

  “Yo!”

  “Spider. I need your help.”

  “Anything.”

  I tell him everything. The men in my mother’s room. The tattoo I saw on that douchebag’s chest and what he said about the money.

  “Did you I.D them?”

  “I have pictures,” I say in a rush.

  “Send them to me. Do you have a picture of the tattoo on the guy you were talking about?”

  “No. Spider, he might be…”

  “One of Larry’s guys? I don’t think so.”

  “You should’ve seen the way he looked at me. He even had a gun!”

  “Where are the girls?”

  “At a friend’s home. I’m going to pick them up and head to your sister’s.”

  “Good, but, Kim…” his voice trails off, but I already know what he’s going to say. “You can’t go back there.”

  “I know, but my mother…”

  “I’ll send some people over but, Kim, you can’t save everyone.”

  I know that should be a huge weight off my shoulders. Luci is nothing but a burden to me. She’s never fought for me. She’s never been a mother.

  “But…”

  “For the sake of your sisters, you can’t go back there. I’ll deal with it.”

  “Spider, she’s my mother.”

  “Yeah well, Ivy and I had a mother once upon a time. Guess what happened to her?”

  Silence stretches between us. I’ve heard bits and pieces about Ivy and Spider’s mother who abandoned them in the dead of winter. Just another fucked up thing we all have in common.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You know what to do. First step is?”

  “Relocation.”

  “Do you have a place?”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  How, when Luci took the money I had saved up? Living in Westbrook Blues is not cheap.

  “You can’t leave this town.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Kimberly, your life is under threat, but this is the town you’ll be safest in.”

  “Why? Because of the fucking Phoenix Corp?”

  “Precisely, but also because this is the last place they’d think to look for you.”

  “Spider! They just found me! What would’ve happened if my sisters were there?”

  “No, we don’t know that for sure. For all we know, they might be random dealers without any ties to Larry.”

  “We don’t know that!”

  “Hey, calm down,” Spider says soothingly. “We’ll figure everything out. Just take the girls to Gran’s place and I’ll meet you there later.”

  That’s the thing though. I’m not comfortable crashing on other people’s sofas.

  All I remember are the times when my so-called friends agreed to let me couch surf, only to overhear them planning to do something to me that would embarrass me for the rest of my life.

  So, I picked my already packed bag and looked for habitable abandoned cars, trucks, under bridges, anything that I could sleep in.

  I’d wake up really early to use the showers at school to clean up and wash my clothes and face every single day then go on pretending like nothing ever happened.

  “I don’t think that will work.”

  “Kim.”

  “No, Spider, my sisters are MY responsibility. They are my entire life now and I need to find them a place to stay. A place they can feel comfortable and free in.”

  “You can’t leave.”

  “I heard you! So where can I go?”

  “Okay, I know of a place. A little two bedroomed apartment.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “It’ll cost you a pretty penny.”

  Fuck. I’m three thousand short and I don’t have a job anymore.

  “I can cover that.”

  I hear him blow a breath through the line.

  “Listen, Kim, you have f
riends. I’m sure if you…”

  “No!” I snap. “I’m not asking anyone for a damn thing. This is not their problem, this is mine!”

  “It’s not weak asking for help.”

  “I never said it was weak, I said I can cover the rent.”

  “Okay, okay,” he concedes reluctantly. “I’ll see you later then.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in New York.”

  “You’re in New York? Please don’t tell Astraea or King anything.”

  “I won’t, but I have to go. Calm down and don’t, for the love of God, don’t take a tire iron to anyone’s kneecaps.”

  With that, he hangs up.

  Chapter 9

  NOAH

  Past

  DANGEROUS K: Are you ghosting me these days? Didn’t know you were this petty.

  ME: No. You know I’m fucking petty. You just didn’t think I’d be worse than you. Anyway, I’ve been busy.

  DANGEROUS K: Ever since that football game and the truth about Astraea’s past and who her father isn’t, you’ve been… distant. Why?

  ME: Drop it.

  DANGEROUS K: Is it because of your father? Did he do a number on you too, like King’s father did on him and I’m guessing Emmett’s?

  ME: We don’t do fathers here.

  DANGEROUS K: Clearly. But why?

  ME: Fucking drop it. Have I ever asked you about the devil?

  DANGEROUS K: What?

  ME: You talk in your sleep. Remember?

  DANGEROUS K: When do you watch me…

  ME: I watch you sleep every fucking night.

  DANGEROUS K: Noah!

  ME: And because of that, I figured you’re keeping a fucking big secret, aren’t you? You’re not who you say you are, are you? Otherwise, why the fuck would you be asking about our fucking sperm donors?

  Present

  One phone call can change your fucking day, or it can fuck up your entire life and I’m about to fucking find out which is which.

  But honestly it doesn’t fucking matter because a single text from my mother shifted my world on its axis.

  I don’t even bother listening to Dave’s fucking call. I just get dressed and leave Emmett, but the tension in me has only been increasing.

  Since the moment Emmett told me about the phone call, my knuckles have been fucking white. I’d give Casper a fucking run for his ghost money.

  I’m pacing up and down this fucking stuffy, dusty office with grand bookshelves filled with faux books.

  The entire set up is a little too pompous and too much for my taste but fuck that, that’s not why my heart is racing like there a stampede of wild animals.

  On a day like this, I’d usually be out somewhere, well on my way to getting thoroughly shitfaced.

  But instead that fucking call happened, and then I read the letter my mother had waiting for me right in front of the house!

  Dear Mr. Noah E.J. Montreal,

  I thought this might grab your attention. I’m requesting an audience with you and your mother, Mrs. Christina J. Montreal, at this address on this day, the 13th, at noon. Please be punctual and discreet.

  Regards,

  Mr. H. Briggs

  The note was brief, straight to the fucking point and fucking mysterious. It didn’t tell me anything at all and that’s why I’m fucking anxious now.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  Why do these old fucking law firms even keep grandfather clocks in the fucking waiting room? It’s archaic and speaks volumes on their inability to fucking keep the damn time.

  “Noah,” my mother, everyone’s favorite ex-star and forever hugger—seriously, she needs to learn about personal space and stop showing pity to strays—says. “If you’re going to give yourself a heart attack, at least do it when you’re far from me. That way when I get the call, I’ll just tell them I have no idea who that is.”

  “You’d reject me as your son?” I say, faux hurt in my voice as I clutch my chest.

  “With the way you’re dressed?” I look down at my bandana thrasher jeans that I paired with a random hoodie and my Balmain sneakers. “Absolutely.”

  “What? What’s wrong with my outfit?”

  “Jeans?” she says, with her nose turned up at me in disgust.

  “I’ll have you know, these are Amiri Appliqué Jeans in aged black. Italian.”

  “Boy, you haven’t worn anything that isn’t designer since you were born,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “All I’m saying is, who wears jeans to a formal meeting?”

  “Uh, who the fuck has time to wear a suit? I’m not here to impress these dickwads.”

  “Noah! Language.”

  I mumble a quick apology. She shakes it off but still, I can’t hide my annoyance.

  “You say that now but aren’t you the one who just got accepted to five top law schools in the country?” she asks, a hint of hurt in her voice.

  Ah fuck.

  “You know?”

  “Of course, I know,” she says, looking at me with those huge wide eyes filled with hurt. “I’m just confused as to why you didn’t think of mentioning it to me. Or picking up your phone when I call. Or at coming home to see me.”

  Fuck.

  It’s a double homicide.

  I go to sit next to her on the couch, but she swats me away. That’s her tell. She’s pretty pissed at me.

  “Standing will suffice for you, don’t you think?”

  “Mom, come on!”

  “Besides, I don’t think you can afford to sit that tush down. What with those already distressed Amiri Italian tight ass jeans,” she says sarcastically.

  “Language,” I counter.

  “I’m a grown up!”

  “So am I.”

  “When you want to be!”

  Well damn.

  I sigh, looking down at her, trying my hardest not to smile.

  Christina Montreal is a class act. She’s beautiful, sharp as a whip, and she knows how to dig into me—like one other person I thought I’d one day introduce to my mother as mine, but she screwed me over so that ship sailed and sunk.

  After all that my mother has done, there’s still no one quite like her. My non-forgiving tendencies? Yeah, well, I got them from my mother.

  “Come on, Mom,” I start, trying to keep the annoyance of this day out of my voice by keeping it low and soft. “You know I was going to tell you about the acceptance letters. You’re the first one I always tell my good news.”

  And the last one who heard about all the bad shit, and recently, it’s been a lot of that on my plate.

  “I just feel like you’ve been pulling away from me lately,” she finally says after a while. I sigh heavily.

  My relationship with my mother hasn’t always been like this.

  At one point, my one goal in life was to keep her laughing.

  If I talked fast and kept the jokes flying—no matter at whose expense—then she was more likely to stop crying from misery but from humor.

  Then there was the seemingly endless grieving period that neither one of us talks about.

  We don’t talk about the different ways we both chose to grieve.

  We never mention the months we spent apart with her overseas and me wrecking a path of destruction in this town, with no contact whatsoever.

  We don’t talk about her closet drinking or my excessive, public drinking, partying, fucking or the mess I create all by myself.

  There’s never any mention of her wailing in the middle of the night or my deep-seated insomnia that has plagued since the day I found Craig.

  Instead, we chose to move on, sweep it under the rug like it never happened.

  I guess in a way, it made it easier to have the relationship we have now. She’s my biggest cheerleader and she knows when not to push me. But I know my silence has been hurting her.

  “Mom, I’m not pulling away. You know I’m just… growing up.”

  “And doing a
bad job at it. Seriously, you still don’t know how to do your own laundry?”

  “You know, you really should quit talking to Emmett, he’s a terrible gossip.”

  “Well, how else would I know that you almost burned down the penthouse trying to make freaking toast?”

  Fucking Emmett!

  At least the fucker didn’t tell my mother about how high we both were that night, facetiming King who looked like he was just a flight away from murdering us on the spot but fuck him.

  “Besides, I like that you boys are watching out for each other after all that crap from before,” she says softly. “How is he?”

  “As well as can be expected.”

  Cat’s out the freaking bag about Emmett’s heart condition but at least my mother isn’t hovering. That was a sure way of pushing that brute away.

  She looks away, sipping her tea like she’s back in one of the sunrooms at one of her European mansions.

  “A lawyer, huh?”

  “I’m still debating it.”

  “What’s there to debate when you applied to five schools?”

  I’d actually applied to ten, but that was beside the point.

  “It’s just a gamble, Mom. It’s neither here nor there.”

  “That is such a lawyer-like response!” she exclaims with a laugh. “At least that quick tongue will have something to do. Pissing people off all the way out of hell.”

  “Now that isn’t such a bad idea.”

  We fall silent.

  That’s the thing about humor and banter. It does some lifting—but never the heavy lifting. No matter how long you laugh, or how long the bubbly feeling stays in your chest, at some point, there’ll be a lull in the fun and the gloom will move right back in.

  Case in point… this silence.

  After reading to her text, I had to rush back to Westbrook Blues where surprise, surprise, my dearest mother was waiting, a dazed look on her face.

  I glance at her now. Her facial features are tight with tension again. For someone who had a pretty impressive career behind a camera, her acting skills are shit right now.

  But then again, what do you expect from a mother who just heard that there’s something about her dead son she needs to rush down to some office to hear?