It wasn’t until Roy closed the front door behind him that my father spoke.
“What’s this I hear about you getting into it with your teacher and a female student on Monday?”
My stepmother came and stood beside my father, trying to present some sort of bullshit united front, even though the two of us never talked. I wanted nothing to do with her—or my real mother, for that matter. I was glad that bitch came in and ruined my father’s marriage. I was glad to be rid of my drug-addicted mother who wanted to do nothing more than spend my father’s money until we were out on the fucking street.
But that didn’t mean I had to be all buddy-buddy with his new, hot piece of ass.
I sighed. “They pissed me off. The hell was I supposed to do?”
Dad narrowed his eyes. “First of all, you watch that language in this house. And second of all, you man up. A man never allows his emotions to rage out of control like that. You need to learn how to keep it on a leash.”
“Like you do Cecilia over there?”
“What did you say?”
Her eyes stayed pinned on me, but she didn’t move. She didn’t say a word, and she sure as hell didn’t come to my defense. Figures, since she’d always been far removed from the situation. Just another plastic-surgery woman who simply knew how to take her place next to Dad. As my father came into the living room, I prepared myself to buck against it. It wouldn't be the first time I’d physically fought him. It would just be the first time he had the balls to start a fist fight like that in front of someone.
Dad gripped my leather jacket. “You’d do well to remember your manners and mind them in the presence of adults.”
I grinned. “Do adults manhandle their children in their own home?”
“Take it easy, Howard. You’re toeing a line.”
My eyebrows rose at hearing Cecilia’s voice. But it did nothing to harness my father’s rage. His anger. It did nothing but remind me exactly where I got my anger issues from. Exactly why I’d always felt like a burden. Exactly why I’d always hated my fucking father, no matter what he felt he’d done for me.
Dad shoved me against a wall. “How many times am I going to have to bail your pathetic ass out of these situations?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. How much money you got on you nowadays?”
He growled. “I’m sick and tired of that school calling us, Clinton. Don’t you know we have better things to do than worry about our fully-grown son who seems incapable of doing anything right? How the fuck do you expect to have any future?”
“Howard.”
Hearing Cecilia’s voice was so foreign to me. And yet, it was nice. Actually having someone step up to my defense.
Sort of.
I licked my lips. “Fully grown because I just turned eighteen? Or fully grown because you started your first business at eighteen?”
Dad scoffed. “You’re a fucking joke.”
Cecilia cleared her throat. “Howard. That’s enough.”
I smiled at my father, wondering if he’d actually listen to the tits with a voice. My father didn’t give a shit about anything but himself. And his new hot wife. He didn't give a damn when my mother first got addicted to painkillers because of her cesarean with me. He didn’t give a shit when she slipped into postpartum depression and threw herself off the roof. He certainly didn’t give a shit when she stopped taking care of the house and started spending all his money. Leaving me home alone to stew in my own waste and starve.
Oh, no. He only gave a shit when he couldn't keep up with the credit cards she kept taking out in his name. He only gave a shit when it impacted his finances. Not me, or my well-being. So it didn’t shock me one bit when I felt his hand tighten against my leather jacket instead of releasing it.
Because my father never gave a shit about me for a fucking day in his pathetic life.
“You get your shit together, you hear me? Or you’re out on your ass. Plain and simple.”
I scoffed. “You gonna throw me out while you’re in Bora Bora? Or before you two jet off to Australia for Christmas?”
Dad chuckled. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.”
“Howard. Cut it out!”
“Shut up, Cecilia!”
I chuckled. “Wow. You really know how to treat the ladies.”
Dad shoved my chest. “You’ve got one last chance to keep your ass out of trouble until I can stick you somewhere after you graduate. One chance, you hear me?”
I glared at him. “Or what?”
Dad smiled. “Or you’re really not going to like our next conversation.”
I watched my stepmother stride over with her thin legs and her high heels. She grabbed my father’s arm, yanking it away from my leather coat. I dusted off his touch as she forcefully pulled him away from me, giving me some space to slip away from the wall. I wasn’t staying here another fucking second. Not with that asshole in the house. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, sticking it in the inside pocket of my jacket.
“And don’t you dare think about going anywhere tonight!” Dad roared.
I shrugged. “Too late.”
I slipped into the garage and stormed for my bike. I jammed my fist into the garage door button on the wall, watching it roll up. I threw my leg over my motorcycle as Dad appeared in the doorway. I cranked the engine up too quickly to hear whatever the hell it was he was screaming at me.
“What was that? I can’t hear you!”
I pointed to my ears, watching as my father’s face reddened with frustration. Cecilia appeared behind him, rubbing his back and trying to calm him down. Fucking hell, that woman was too good for him. They were all too good for him, including my mother. I knew, deep down, my father was the reason why my mother got ruined. Putting up with his bullshit and always bending to his ways and dealing with his anger all the fucking time. It made me sick. And soon enough, he’d destroy Cecilia, too. Cast her out into the backyard like a piece of used furniture to burn before finding another trophy wife to stand at his side.
Another woman to burn with the rest of them.
I backed my bike out of the garage and swung it around. I heard my father rushing after me, but I took off down the driveway. I looked in my rearview mirror, watching him run until he had to bend over to catch his breath. That’s what he got, with all the traveling and car riding and not enough time spent in the gym.
“Fat ass,” I murmured.
I drove into town, setting my sights on the park. It was the one place where I could always go, get cheap food, and sit. Possibly write. I always kept my notebooks and pens in the back compartment of my bike, just in case inspiration hit me.
I also kept it hidden as much as I could. I never wrote when people were around. Because holy fuck, if my friends knew I wrote poetry and short stories as a hobby? My reputation would be shot. I’d be just like every other asshole I gave swirlies to on a regular basis.
And the idea of Roy stepping into my position practically made me cackle.
Because he’d only ever be half the man I was.
7
Raelynn
I shoved some things into a backpack on Friday morning, readying myself for this fun little weekend. I was ready to get out of here. Especially since I wasn’t working. Ready to get through the last hour of detention so I could be on my way to my best friend’s house for another wonderful sleepover. But, for once, I came downstairs to my mother already down there. I walked into the living room, skirting their makeout session while I waited in the wings. The lip-smacking made my stomach turn, and I breathed a sigh of relief when D.J. finally left. The smell of coffee filled the foyer as I tried to erase those sights and sounds from my mind, silently feeling sorry for the asshole she was cheating on.
Then again, there was a big chance he knew it. Why he continued to pay some of her bills and keep her around if she was, I’d never understand.
Then again, I also didn’t want to understand.
With my clothes and my phone charger in a bag, I made my way into the kitchen. I heard D.J. race out of our driveway, peeling out like he thought he was hot shit. I knew announcing to my mother I was going away for the weekend could go one of two ways. She’d either wave me out the door while she nursed her hangover with another beer, or she’d chew me out until I got fed up enough to slip out the door myself.
But after an entire week of detention, I didn't care if the woman tried strapping me down to keep me home. I was fucking going to this sleepover.
I peeked around the corner. “I’m going to spend the weekend at Allison’s.”
Mom sighed. “That’s fine, honey. You’ll be home Sunday?”
“Yep.”
“All right. Well, maybe next week you and I can have an old-fashioned girls’ night? Like how we used to?”
I studied my mother and how rough she looked. The hickeys on her neck. Her knotted, disheveled hair. The way her shoulders slouched as she sat at the kitchen table, pouring beer into her fucking coffee. I came around the corner and went to sit beside her. Something was off. Something didn’t feel right. And while I wanted to turn down the invite to her version of a girls’ night, I also didn’t want to leave her like this.
“Mom?”
She slowly looked over at me and I saw how tired she looked. The bags underneath her eyes. The pallor of her skin. Her trembling hand brought her mug of coffee to her lips, where she chugged a little too hard and a little too long. I placed my hand on her shoulder and she flinched, which told me everything I needed to know.