Still, I don’t trust her.
And I don’t like the way Clayton so easily does.
“I can’t believe you’ve been in Mexico this whole time,” Clayton says after our mother finishes off a story about her and my older brother, Carleton, in Tijuana drinking margaritas the size of their face. He had asked to come today, too, but I’d refused.
One fucked-up family member at a time.
“It was quite a ride,” Mom muses, thumbing the condensation off the side of her glass with a smile. “The beaches there, they’re just incredible.” Her eyes find mine then. “Of course, I’m sure it’s nothing compared to the beaches in Florida, right, baby?”
My nostrils flare at the pet name, because she hasn’t ever called me her baby. Even before she bailed on her family, we had a strained relationship at best. Because unlike my younger brother who saw her as an angel, and my older brother who followed in her footsteps, I saw her for exactly who she was.
A monster.
And I wanted nothing but to get as far away from her as I could.
I take a sip of my beer in lieu of answering, and an awkward silence passes over everyone before Kia steers the conversation toward how Clayton and Mac are both doing so well in football. My shoulders ease a little once it’s no longer my mother talking, until she somehow finds a way to bring it all back to her.
“I wish I could have seen you play your freshman year last year,” she says to Clayton, reaching over to thumb his cheek. I don’t miss the way his eyes light up at the affection. “I bet you were a stud.”
“He really was. Made me look bad,” Mac comments, nudging his best friend. “But now, we’re dominating. Going to take this team all the way to state.”
“Well, I can’t wait to watch it.”
I scoff, crushing the can of beer I just drained and tossing it in the bag for recycling before reaching into the cooler for another.
Everyone is quiet, and Mom looks hurt where she watches me across the fire.
“What?” I ask, cracking the top on my next can. “Disappointed that I’m not playing into your bullshit the way everyone else is?”
“Clinton,” Mrs. Harrison warns me, but her husband touches her arm gently, shaking his head to indicate it’s not her place. And while I respect the shit out of her for stepping up and caring for my brother like he was her own, right now, it really isn’t her place.
“I’m not… I wasn’t trying to…” Mom stammers.
“You’re not what?” I ask, tilting my head. “Spewing off a bunch of lies like you always do? Showing up after ditching your family for two years for some vacation in Mexico and expecting it to all be okay?”
She swallows.
“I was just saying that I’m happy I’ll be able to see him play,” she whispers.
“Bullshit,” I whisper, sucking down half my beer.
“Come on, bro,” Clayton begs from across the fire just as Kia excuses herself to the restroom.
“No,” I yell, and I surprise myself at how much my voice booms. Everyone else seems shaken, too, their eyes locked on me as I point across the fire at my brother. “Don’t let her fool you. Don’t let her get in your head with her lies. I’ve lived through enough of them to tell you that they only get better with age.”
“I’m not lying,” Mom says defensively, holding her chin high. “And I surely don’t appreciate the way you’re talking to me or about me right now, Clinton. I’m your mother.”
At that, I bark out a loud, barrel-chested laugh. “Oh, are you? Because I thought mothers were supposed to take care of their children, not ask them for money time and time again, and then disappear and not talk to them for two years.”
“Alright, Bear, I think that’s—” Mr. Harrison starts, but he doesn’t get to finish before I stand, towering over the fire and my mother on the other side of it.
“You’re a liar, and an addict, and a piece of shit excuse for a mother, and I won’t let you tear Clayton up the way you did me.” I look at him then. “She won’t be at your football games. She won’t be here for your prom or senior night or graduation, either. Trust me when I tell you that she came back because she needs something.” I turn on my mother again. “And as soon as she gets it, she’ll be gone again.”
Mom’s bottom lip quivers, and I wish I felt a shred of remorse for what I said, but I feel nothing.
She stands, mumbling something about needing to get something out of her car before she excuses herself through the backyard gate. Mac’s mom looks at her husband with worried eyes before chasing after her, and then I’m being shoved back by two surprisingly strong hands.
“What the fuck, Bear?!”
“Language, Clayton,” Mr. Harrison warns, but he’s already ushering Mac inside. “We’ll leave you two alone, but just for the record, I don’t appreciate any of that kind of disrespectful talk going down in my house. You understand me?” He looks briefly at my little brother, but his glare nearly burns a hole in my skull. “So, you two talk this out and cool down. Now.”
I don’t respond, but I do nod to let him know I’ve heard him, and a sliver of guilt seeps into my spoiled gut.
“Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?” Clayton asks when we’re alone. He’s almost as tall as me now, with the lean and built body of a wide receiver, instead of the lanky one he’d had as a kid. I see the same shape of my eyes in his own, feel the same blood coursing through our veins, and though I know he’s not a child anymore, I can’t help but want to protect him like one. “We finally have her back in our lives, and you’re doing everything you can to push her away.”
“She left us,” I remind him. “Our brother left his children, too. Now, they’re back after two years of barely any word at all, and we’re just supposed to listen to their stories, celebrate them, welcome them home with open arms?”
“People make mistakes, Bear,” Clayton says. “Haven’t you?”
I grit my teeth, looking away from him and at the half-open gate across the yard from us. Through the slit, I can see Mrs. Harrison holding my mother while she cries.
And it pisses me off even more.
“Yes, people do make mistakes. But unlike our mother, most people regret them. Most people do whatever they can to make amends and become a better person. But our mother, Clayton?” I point at the gate. “She is a fucking train wreck. She cares about no one but herself, and I know you want to believe her when she says she’ll stay, that she’ll be a better mother, but believe me when I say that she’s lying.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But I do,” I urge, stepping into him and grabbing both his shoulders in my hands. “Who has been there for you your entire life? Who used to feed you when that woman wouldn’t, change your diapers, play with you, care for you when you were sick? Who made sure you got up in time for school and got on the bus? Who made sure you took showers and brushed your teeth? Who made sure you were okay when she bailed out of here?” I shake my head, begging him to see it. “I may not be perfect, Clayton, but I’m your family. I’m the one you should trust in — not her.”
Clayton’s eyes grow so tired in the span of my words, that I wonder if I’ve aged him, if it would be one of those moments like so many I had lived through myself that he’d look back on as a turning point.
“I do trust you,” he finally whispers. “And I love you, bro. I do. And maybe you’re right. Maybe she’ll leave again or make promises she can’t keep, but… I don’t know. I think she’s changed. I think something happened. She seems different, and I know she doesn’t deserve it, but I want to give her a second chance. Okay? And that’s my choice. Not yours. So if you want to write her off forever, if you want to be an asshole to her and never give her the opportunity to make things right, then that’s your decision. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But I’m asking the same courtesy from you.”
His eyes are hard on mine, and he shrugs out of my grasp without letting me respond, jogging across the
yard and through the gate to join our mother and Mrs. Harrison.
The next breath through my nose is icy cold, and I seethe with the overwhelming urge to run to him and hold him away from our mother and take him away from this place, even if he hates me for doing it.
But he’s right.
I can’t make choices for him, and he’s grown enough now to know the possible consequences of the decisions he’s making. And hadn’t I done the same, given our mother chance after chance until she’d burned me enough times that I learned not to get close to the fire ever again?
I scrub my hands over my face, trying to soothe my uneven breathing enough to get through the rest of the night. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I yank it out, expecting to see Becca’s warm smile on my screen.
Instead, it’s a black screen with the name ERIN XANDER in white letters at the top.
My stomach drops, and I stare at the vibrating device for what feels like an eternity with my heart in my throat. When I don’t answer, she goes to voicemail, a missed call notification taking the place of her name on the screen. But before I can put the phone back in my pocket, it rings again.
Erin.
I answer quickly this time, snapping back to reality like waking from a dream. “Erin? Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“Hey,” she answers softly, tentatively. “Oh gosh, yes, I’m fine, I’m sorry if I worried you. I just wasn’t sure if my first call came through but… oh, you’re probably busy. I’m sorry. I’ll just—”
“Don’t hang up.”
A silent moment passes between us as my racing heart slows to its normal rate, and I run a hand through my short hair, turning away from where I can still see my mom and brother through the backyard gate.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Erin finally asks.
I want to laugh, because every time is a bad time for me — ever since the last night Erin and I talked.
“Why did you call me, Ex?”
I hear a shaky inhale on the other end, a shuffling of papers. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“So, talk.”
“Not on the phone,” she explains. “I was wondering if we could have dinner.”
My heart stops, skipping a few beats before it hammers back to life. “Dinner.”
“If that would be okay.”
I glance over my shoulder and see Mrs. Harrison and Clayton leading Mom back inside the house, and I nod to my little brother, signaling that I’ll be right in.
“I’m out of town.”
“Oh…” Erin pauses. “Okay. I’m sorry, I—”
“I’ll be back next week.”
I swallow, my stomach so fucked up from the emotions of the day, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold down the beer churning inside it.
“Okay,” Erin whispers. “How about the Sunday after Halloween? Eros?”
Eros is a small Greek restaurant off campus, and one of my favorites.
“What time?”
“Seven okay?”
I nod, more to myself than to her, as if I need that assurance from myself that I can do this, that I can have dinner with Erin and somehow live through it. “See you then.”
I don’t wait for a response before I end the call, and I don’t allow myself to simmer on the sound of her voice, or the fact that I’ll be meeting up with her when I get back to Florida. Instead, I shove the phone in my pocket and put out the bonfire on my way back inside to suffer through whatever time I have left with my mother.
One monster at a time.
“ALRIGHT, LET’S MAKE THIS happen,” I say, blowing a whistle through my teeth when I flip over the bottom card in my dealer stack. The top one was a Jack of spades, and the bottom is a three of hearts.
“Come on, come on,” Chelsea says from the edge of the table. I learned earlier tonight that she’s in banking, and the hot stud next to her who can’t be any older than me is James, her “friend” from out of town.
They’ve been making out all night between hands, and judging by the ring on her finger, I’d say Chelsea is up to no good.
But it’s not for me to judge. My job tonight is to lose as many hands as the cards will let me.
Because the more the Blackjack dealer loses, the more she gets tipped.
Casino Boat 101.
I flip the next card, and it’s a two of hearts, giving me a fifteen.
“Bust! Bust! Come on!” Roberto says. He’s short and spunky and has been smoking like a chimney all night, but he’s also been the only one tipping me between hands.
I like Roberto.
I cringe, eyeing the next card before I flip it with a satisfied grin.
King of clubs.
The table roars, everyone thrusting their hands up into the air and high-fiving each other as I pay out the winnings and clear the cards.
I’ve been working on the boat for a couple months now, and one thing I’ve figured out for sure — I love it. I love being on a boat with people letting loose for the night. I love the freedom we all feel in international waters, like nothing is off limits, like the night is forever young. I love the clouds of smoke and the dinging bells of the slot machines and the distant roars of each table when they beat the dealer or get a good roll in Craps.
I may be out of the professional poker scene, but this will always be a part of who I am.
It’s my energy. It’s my soul. It’s the very blood in my veins.
And that’s why I’m going to open my own casino company when I graduate.
It won’t be a real casino, but rather one that can be hired out for parties and weddings and corporate events. I’ve already got the start of a business plan together, detailing how companies or hosts can purchase fake money that, in turn, the guests can use to gamble. The more money they have at the end of the night, the more entries they get into raffles, or the more they have to use to bid on auction items. It will all be legal, not gambling, per se, but gambling-ish.
And it will all be mine.
Until then, working on the casino cruise will give me more experience dealing different games, which I’ll need when it’s time to train my own dealers.
Plus, it’s a good distraction from the fact that Kip is across the country.
He must know that I’m extra in my sad panda feels tonight, because as soon as I wrap up my shift on the boat, stepping back onto the dock and immediately unfastening the tie around my neck, my phone rings.
“Hello, handsome,” I sing.
“Hiiiii.”
At the long, drawn-out greeting, I grin. “Someone’s been drinking.”
“And someone else has not been sending nudes.”
I bark out a laugh, pulling my keys from my purse as I cross the employee parking lot. “That’s because someone else has been working.”
“Boooooo. Ditch work. Come to California, instead.”
“I will, baby. In less than a month now.”
“That’s so far away.”
My heart squeezes. “I know. I miss you, too.”
There’s a long pause of silence, and then a hiccup that makes me smile again.
“Where are you?”
“At the A Sig house. We had a party tonight.”
“Clearly.”
“The whole week is a party around Halloween.”
“Tell me about it. The A Sig Halloween bash is tomorrow on the sandbar. Everyone has been talking about it all week.”
“What are you going to wear?”
“The girls and I are going as pin-up dolls.”
There’s a groan on the other end, and then what sounds like Kip slapping himself in the face and dragging his hand over it. “You’re going to look so hot,” he almost whines.
I chuckle. “I’ll bring the outfit when I come next month.”
“You better.”
I sigh, and silence passes between us as I get in my car and fire it to life. There’s a roar somewhere in the background where Kip is, and I smile, picturing the madness.
“You
sound like you’re having fun,” I say. “I wish I was there with you.”
“Soon,” he promises.
“Soon,” I echo.
I check the date on my watch, letting my head fall back against the head rest and closing my eyes.
Just twenty-four more days.
“GOD, WHEN THEY SAID the Halloween party would be even bigger and better than last year, I doubted it,” Skyler confesses, lowering her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose as she looks around the sandbar. “But damn, did Alpha Sig deliver.”
I glance around with her, and while I can tell she’s in awe, I feel mostly overwhelmed by the amount of students crammed onto one speck of sand off the east coast of Florida. The sandbar is usually vacant, save for the occasional boat that might stop there on the weekends, but today, it’s crawling with people dressed in swimsuit Halloween costumes. Boats line every bit of the shore, anchored in place, with people standing or floating in the water between each one, and in the center of the sandbar is a DJ, hooked up to a generator and thumping music like a heartbeat out to every inch of the little island.
We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day. It’s seventy-five and sunny, the breeze enough to cool us if we get too drunk and hot, but the water still warm enough for us to not freeze our asses off. Ashlei and Jess have already set up camp with their beach chairs and umbrellas and gone in search of booze, and Skyler and I set our stuff next to theirs, saving room for Erin, just in case she shows.
Fluffy white clouds pepper the bright blue sky, giving a slight reprieve from the sun as we splay out our beach towels, but I still pull out my sunscreen to protect my fair skin.
“Adam is really kicking ass as second-term president, isn’t he?” Skyler asks, putting her hand out for the sunscreen once I have a dollop in my hand.
Ritual: A New Adult College Romance (Palm South University Book 5) Page 10
