Her eyes never leave mine as she walks backward into her apartment, denying me what I desire most right now. I stare at the closed door for a few minutes, attempting to pull myself together before descending the single flight of steps.
This is going to work out even better than I had hoped, I think to myself as I make my way toward the hotel. The woman I’ve been thinking about as I’ve spanked it the last few nights is sleeping only a few feet away. It’ll make it easier to find a way to get her in my bed.
Phoenix’s face flashes through my mind, and my feet come to an abrupt halt.
She has a son.
She’s a single mother.
I can’t do that to her. She probably has it hard enough without me bringing my drama around. Hell, my life is enough of a shitshow. She’s already dealing with my sister. She doesn’t need to know the rest. She doesn’t need to hear about the fucked-up family we come from.
What concerns me most is the fact I’ve lied to get my sister in the program. If she found out, she’d be obligated to report my sister’s enrollment into the program to my parents. That can’t happen. If they find her, they’ll take her back home.
And home is where this all started. It’s the one place she can’t be. Not right now and maybe not ever. I’m still working on what happens next because I have no idea where to go from here. I’m taking this shit one day at a time.
It all depends on how well Daphne does in rehab. Vivian called me earlier this afternoon and said I’ll be able to see her in a few days. I’m hoping I’ll get an idea of how well she’s doing then.
How much better can she honestly be after only ten days in rehab? I can’t imagine she’s making too much progress yet.
Finally making it to the hotel, I nod my head in appreciation at the bell hop as he holds the door open for me, the cool air slapping me in the face as I step inside. The soft sounds of classical music and the smell of fresh flowers surround me and the handful of people relaxing around the lobby, oblivious to my presence.
A large part of why I chose this hotel was because of location. The other part… the class of people that can afford to stay here. When you have as much money as they do, they don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves. The last thing I want is to draw any unnecessary attention to myself.
“Mr. Neil,” I hear a female voice call as I head toward the bank of elevators. Turning, I find a petite young brunette shuffling in my direction, waving a piece of paper over her head. Finally catching up to me she says, “You have messages.”
Messages? No one is supposed to know I’m here. Who the hell is calling me?
Taking the piece of paper, I shove it in my pocket and thank her. As soon as the elevator doors close, I retrieve the yellow slip and unfold it.
My lawyer.
How the hell did he find me? More importantly, what does he want?
After telling my parents to fuck off, I ditched my phone and bought a new prepaid phone from the grocery store so no one could reach me or track my movements.
“Alex,” my lawyer sings, picking up after only the first ring.
I’d waited to call until I’d ordered room service and poured myself a twenty-dollar bottle of vodka from the minibar over ice.
“Chuck. What do you need?”
“Your father called.”
Fuck.
“And?”
“And he tried to change the terms on your trust fund. I’m fighting it, but I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold this off. I wanted to give you a heads-up since I know you’re counting on that money as soon as it’s available.”
Nine more weeks and I’ll be twenty-three. The age my parents set for me to be able to access the money. Not that I want their money, but I need it until I establish myself. Once I do, I’ll give whatever is left back to them. Cut all ties.
That day can’t come soon enough.
“How’d you find me?” I ask.
“Can’t tell you that. I may have broken a few laws, and I don’t want you to be held accountable.”
I’ve known Chuck for three years. His son, Frederick, and I were roommates my sophomore year at Cambridge. The man is a fucking genius. He specialized in dealing with pricks like my father. He’s an estate lawyer, and as soon as I put this plan into motion, I called and hired him.
Chuck breaks down the new terms my father is attempting to put on my trust. I want to bang my head against the wall in frustration, but I know that’s what my father wants. To get me to relent to his terms. To scare me into calling him, to bring my sister home. It won’t happen.
I’d rather lose my trust fund than take her back there right now.
“Well, I appreciate the heads-up. I won’t be here tomorrow, but I’ll be in touch soon.”
I rattle off my new phone number to Chuck so he can keep me in the loop. The only other person who has that number is the rehab center. If my phone rings, it’s for a good reason.
“Stay out of trouble, Alex. I should know more in a few weeks.”
“Will do.”
“One more thing.” Shit. I knew there was more to why he called. “If I found you that easy, your parents are bound to find you. You may want to stop using your credit card. Just a suggestion.”
And there goes my financial stability. After paying for the apartment, I have about five grand left in my savings account, and then I’ll be broke.
Fuck!
4
Harley
* * *
He’s my neighbor.
Shit!
This is bad. Really bad.
Not only is Phoenix already in love with the guy after only spending a few hours with him, but having him this close is nerve-racking. Hell, just being in the hallway with him has my body craving his touch. I can’t imagine if he actually touched me.
My reaction to him was written all over my face when I got back in the apartment. Phoenix called me out and wanted to know how I knew him. I gave him the highlights.
I met him at work. He wasn’t a patient.
It wasn’t much since I can’t talk to him about Daphne. Confidentiality agreement and all. Not that I’m worried Phoenix would tell anyone. It’s more about my ethics.
“I like him,” Phoenix says, shoveling a fry in his mouth.
“He seems nice,” I retort. “You remember the rules though, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
We’ve had this conversation multiple times over the last three years. It’s forced Phoenix to grow up a little faster than I wanted, but it’s important.
“Not the answer I was looking for, bud. Tell me what I want to hear.”
“I’m your son. We’re from Oregon.” I can hear the irritation in his voice.
“And what about your dad?”
“He died in a car accident when I was little.” He fakes sounding sad when he says it, but he lacks conviction.
“What else?”
“There’s nothing else, Harley.” Five seconds. Ten. I see the moment he realizes what he missed. He doesn’t want to admit it, so I’m forced to ask the one question that hurts me the most.
“Why don’t you call me mom?”
Phoenix lowers his head, moving the fries on his plate around with a fork and mumbles, “Because you were too young to be a mom when you had me.”
It was the only reason I could come up with spur of the moment. I never wanted Phoenix to call me mom, even though I’m more of a mother to him than our mom ever was. Coming up with a reason your fake son doesn’t call you mom isn’t easy, though.
And the fact I’m fourteen years older than him made the lie believable.
“Listen, bud. I don’t think he’s going to ask all those questions. As long as we keep our distance like we normally do, everything will be fine. I promise.”
“I hate lying to everyone.”
“I know you do. I hate it too. But I’d hate it even more if Mom found you and tried to take you back home. We both know you deserve better than that.”
He deserves better than what I can give him as well, but I don’t say that out loud. Our tiny one-bedroom apartment isn’t ideal, but it’s better than the trailer we lived in with our mom. And I made a promise to myself the day I left for college.
I’d come back for Phoenix when I graduated. I’d take him away from that place and give him a better life than I had. It’s not his fault our mother is a drug addict. It’s not his fault she never knows what day it is or sells herself for drug money. It’s not his fault he has no idea who his father is.
Hell, I doubt she knows who his father is. If she does, she’s never told either of us.
I remember the day she announced she was pregnant. I came home from school and she was on the tattered couch that was always in our front yard. If you could call it a yard. She was crying into a bottle of whiskey, smoking a cigarette. When she called me over to talk to her, the last thing I expected was for her to tell me I was going to be a big sister.
It was the moment I grew up.
I became the head of the household. I became responsible for her.
Temporarily dropping out of school, I stayed with her every day for five months until my brother was born. I helped her get clean. She stopped drinking, popping pills, and snorting cocaine. We couldn’t afford it. She even got a job at the grocery store down the road to pay bills until she couldn’t work anymore.
It was some of the hardest months of my life, but I survived. The hope I held on to that everything was going to be better kept me going every day. Phoenix wasn’t even six months old when she shattered my hope. I had gone back to school thinking she was on the mend, only to come home and find Phoenix crying in his crib and my mother passed out on the couch with a needle in her arm.
At fourteen years old I dropped out of public school and enrolled in online classes. It was nothing short of a miracle I managed to graduate at all. I raised Phoenix to the best of my abilities. Picked up a job as soon as I was old enough. I provided for us. All three of us. Until I started college. Leaving him was harder than any of the years before combined, but I had a plan, and to put it in motion, I had to make something of myself.
Phoenix was only eight when we ran. I was lucky enough to find a job right out of college. I picked him up the day I got the offer, and we’ve never looked back. That was two cities, four jobs, and more than three years ago. We’re finally settled, and I can’t let anything destroy what we’ve worked so hard to achieve.
Normalcy.
Something I don’t think either of us has ever really known until now.
“I miss her sometimes,” he admits, surprising me.
“You do? What do you miss?” I ask even though I don’t want to hear his answer. There’s nothing about my mother I miss. Not a single thing.
“The songs she would sing me when I was younger to help me fall asleep.” That was me. “When we’d bake cookies together.” Also me. “The scent of her fruity shampoo.”
That’s mom.
“I miss her sometimes too,” I lie. “You know what I miss most?”
“What?”
“I miss how she was when she was pregnant with you. She used to smile all the time. She liked to tell you jokes and dance around while she listened to classic rock.”
Phoenix smiles as if he can picture her. I can barely muster up an image of her these days. I do remember how happy she was that summer when the drugs were clear of her system and the world looked bright. It didn’t last long, but it was a moment I’ll never forget.
“I think he likes you,” Phoenix says, changing the subject so fast it takes me a second to catch up.
“Who?”
“Alex. The new neighbor.”
“What makes you think that?”
“The way he was looking at you. He thinks you’re pretty. I can tell.”
“I am pretty,” I state, lifting my chin and turning it side to side. “Don’t you think so?”
Phoenix laughs and shoves another fry in his mouth, changing the subject again to the funny science experiment his teacher showed them today in school. I welcome the reprieve as I listen to him go on and on about his day. He’s always detailed, sharing every moment, with joy spread across his face.
As I tuck him in bed and close the door to our bedroom behind me, I make him a silent promise. That one day, the past will be behind us. That we won’t have to run anymore or lie to everyone we meet. One day we’ll be able to be who we are, and that will be enough.
Tucking my feet under me, I settle on the couch and pull out my laptop. I have work to finish and a full day ahead of me tomorrow. We’re admitting two new patients, and it’s supposed to be my first session with Daphne. She’s been avoiding me since day one, refusing to talk to me at all, even when I would go to her room to check on her.
I tried talking to her this morning, and she asked to see her brother. My compromise was a group session with a few select other patients and a private session with me first. I need to evaluate her, get her open up. I want to see where her head’s at right now.
She had her first group session after lunch. An art class. She didn’t talk much, but I could tell she was listening to the other patients. Sometimes that’s enough. Sometimes being around other people even if you aren’t interacting is enough. As bored as the patients get hiding in their rooms, that doesn’t normally stop them from staying in there, alone. Not in the beginning anyway.
Clicking on Daphne’s file, I reread her record twice to make sure I haven’t missed anything. Born and raised in Chicago. Her parents died in a car accident a few months ago, leaving only her brother to take care of her. She’s one of our younger patients, only seventeen. She’ll be starting her senior year of high school this fall, an important year for her.
One where she’ll make a lot of tough decisions. Where to go to college. What to major in. What she wants to do with the rest of her life. Decisions that are best made with a clear head.
She’s a star athlete. Volleyball and soccer. It looks like she only played half her soccer season this spring. It doesn’t say why, but I’m guessing either she was injured or the drugs got in the way.
Especially considering her recent overdose.
I make a note to ask her about it tomorrow.
Looking at the family history, there’s barely any mention of her brother in her file aside from his academics. Lacrosse player in high school. Cambridge University graduate.
There’s even less information about their parents. Odd. Normally, even if the parents are no longer alive, there’s a plethora of background on them.
Which begs the question… what is he hiding?
Alex filled out her admission paperwork. He’s the one who gave us all the information we have. There’s plenty about Daphne, and all of it’s important, but there’s a bigger piece of the puzzle that’s missing.
The parents.
Homelife.
All blanks Daphne can fill in for me since Alex didn’t bother to. Normally, I use the information I have to get my patients talking. This time, I’m going to be forced to beg her for details. About her dead parents. That’s going to suck. About her home life before and after their accident. And about her brother and why she feels like he abandoned her.
I’m aware Daphne views it as unnecessary, asking her about certain parts her life, but it’s my job. The fact I get to learn a little more about her brother in the process is a bonus. Maybe I’ll learn something that’ll turn me off.
Something that’ll make me hate him so I’m not thinking about him all the time. Desiring him.
Because with him across the hall, I can’t count the number of times I’ve looked at the front door tonight. Or the number of times I’ve spaced out replaying our interaction earlier. Picturing him in jeans and his tight-fitting t-shirt. The kind that hugged his muscles and broad shoulders so tight it could have ripped if he flexed his muscles.
Yep.
I’m going to need Daphne to give me the background on her family. On her brother. And
if I’m lucky, I’m going to be able to hate him by the end of the day tomorrow. If not, I’m screwed.
5
Alex
* * *
The grocery store was a shit show. It made me appreciate hotel room service, and the ease of someone delivering whatever I was hungry for whenever I wanted it, more than I already did. Hell, I even missed our cook, Sandra, and the cafeteria at Cambridge. Knowing I’m going to have to make myself meals is not ideal, but I’ve done it before, and I can do it again.
My cart was overflowing by the time I headed to the checkout. Not only did I pick up food for what seemed like the next month, I picked up a few things I didn’t need as well. If this was the last time I was going to be able to use my credit card for a while, I was going to make sure I had everything I needed.
For instance, the brand-new PlayStation I just purchased. The four games I thought Phoenix might like to play. Or the three puzzles I figured would help me pass the time.
All of that, in addition to the food and bedding, made for a heavy load. One I couldn’t carry the three blocks back to my new apartment, so I called a cab.
Now I wait. And people watch.
In Chicago, no one would pay me the time of day. They wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Here, people smile as they walk past. Some say hello. The vibe is friendlier and more welcoming than anywhere else I’ve lived. I like it.
From the surfer dudes to the stressed mothers with children propped on their hips, not a single person fails to acknowledge me in some way or another. They don’t know me and probably wonder why I’m standing outside Walmart with an overflowing cart like a creeper, yet they don’t seem afraid. Back home, people would keep twelve feet between you and them as if you had the plague.
The cab driver is no exception. He’s nice enough to not only help me load my groceries into his trunk but also carry my bags up the stairs and leaves them outside my apartment door. Giving him a generous tip, he hands me his card and tells me to call him if I ever need another ride.
Half Truths: An Opposites Attract Romance Page 3
