He’s been getting himself mixed up in some bad stuff lately. There are certain people you just stay clear of, but Sam can’t seem to do that. He likes to play with the wrong people, which scares the hell out of me. Nico is the worst. He gives me the freaking creeps with the way he looks at me. It reminds me of a few of my foster fathers’ looks. I know he deals, and God knows what else, but Sam just can’t stay away from him. Every time I bring up not hanging out with Nico anymore, he snaps at me. I think he might be doing jobs for him after Nico gave me the money to bail him out of jail. Sam made me get the money from him, and to say the situation of asking Nico for money was easy is putting it mildly. He practically threw it at me. Ever since then, Nico pretends like he has some claim on me. I keep trying to give him the money back but he won’t take it. Now he randomly shows up to places I’m at. At least now he won’t know where I work anymore.
I took a beating a few months back trying to find Sam at a known drug house I heard he was at. I hadn’t seen him for three days, and I got so worried I went looking for him. It was dumb going in alone, but I had no one else to go with me.
I got cornered by a couple of guys, and while I was fighting them off, they got a few blows in on me. Luckily the cops showed up, and I managed to get away in the commotion. When I finally made it back to the shelter we’d been staying at, he was there, still strung out. I’m not sure how he got to the shelter, or who let him in. Usually if you look high they boot your ass out.
Soon after, I got us the motel room. I wanted to keep Sam clean and away from the shelters. It’s easy to get mixed in with the wrong people down there sometimes, but I think he’s still at it. Some of the girls give me shit for always helping him out, but I owe him this. He protected me for years and it’s my turn to return the favor now that I can, even if it is just some crappy motel.
Opening the fridge, my stomach growls at the contents. All vegetables, fruit and...is that soy milk? I’m really going to have to go to the store if I’m staying here. I need some real food. Grabbing a bowl of grapes and a bottle of water, I pop a couple into my mouth and start searching the drawers.
Bingo. Finding a cookbook, I pull it out and shuffle through the pages, marking the corner of recipes that catch my attention. When I finally get to the end of the book, I look up and notice the sun has set. I can’t believe how long I took going through that book. I’ve never had a kitchen all to myself to cook in before. I can’t wait to try something out tomorrow on Vanilla.
Snatching my water and grapes off the counter, I head to my room. When I reach the end of the hall I’m unsure where to go. He didn’t take me up on my offer to sleep with me so he likely wants me to stay in one of the guest rooms. With that thought, I make my way into his room. I set my water and bowl of grapes on the nightstand, throw the covers back, and crawl into his bed. This room is just as boring as the rest of his house. There isn’t even a TV in here. Now that I think about it, I don’t remember seeing a TV anywhere. Who doesn’t have a TV? At least I have the view of the city from the bed, and that’s not so bad.
The walls are off-white and bare. His closet door is open and I can see all his suits lined up in color order—the color order being gray, blue, and black. Crawling back out of the bed, I enter his closet. It’s like the world’s most boring dream closet and it’s driving me crazy. One by one I move the suits around, disturbing the order. Let’s see how he likes that in the morning. Maybe I’ll wait up and pretend to be sleeping, just to see his reaction to the bathroom and closet, and me in his bed. I don’t know why I’m pushing my luck. He’ll probably just fire me. But today in his office when I poked at him, and he got so worked up, I reveled in the emotion that crossed his face. I want to do it again.
Lying back, I wait, and as the minutes pass by, I can’t stop thinking what he might be doing with Cindy. Did he decide to go home with her because he didn’t want to come back and deal with me? Some of the foster parents chose to just ignore you, and for some reason their silence was worse than the ones that screamed at you.
I feel like I’m on a cloud. I open my eyes, and it takes me a minute to adjust to all the light in the room. The bright sun bounces off the white walls, making everything brighter than it should be. Sitting up, I look around to see where Vanilla is. Maybe he didn’t come home. The thought makes a lump form in my throat. Dragging myself from the world’s most comfortable bed, I make my way to the bathroom to handle my business. I’m not his mother. I can’t be upset he didn’t come home last night.