by Amy Brown
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Copyright (c) 2020 by Amy Brown
Tricked
By Amy Brown
Chapter One
Charity
Summer break is over. That sucks because I love not going to school, and sleeping late. Summer break ending is the worst thing ever. Well, maybe the worst thing actually is the fact that two months ago mom moved us across the country to bum-fuck Blue Horn, Texas, can’t pay the rent half the time, and we have no groceries in the fridge. I guess that’s actually way worse. As if on cue, my stomach growls. I haven’t had breakfast or lunch, and I’m really hoping mom will somehow scrape up dinner.
It’s not that she’s a horrible mom or anything, she does her best. She works ten hour shifts at the Bluebird Café every day except Sunday. But our rent is more than her months’ salary most of the time, including tips. Even though this trailer park is a dump, the rent is too high for us. Ridiculous that the place is called the Sunshine Valley Trailer Park because there’s nothing sunshiny about this crappy place. The only positive is that our neighbor, Kent, is good looking. He’s blond, tanned, but in his forties. He’d have to be a pervert to hit on me, and I’d have to have a daddy complex to want him to. But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view. And I do. Frequently. Kent likes to sunbathe, much to my delight.
I wonder how mom’s going to pay for our school books this semester. Last time she borrowed money from Mrs. Montgomery, the older lady who used to live next door to us in Los Angeles. Sad to say, Mrs. Montgomery died. She was a really nice lady actually. I’m sorry that she’s gone. Not just because she paid for books either, but because she was really kind, and she used to give me and my brother Luke candy out of her pink glass candy dish. She was a good person, but now she’s gone.
Seems like everyone disappears.
Disappearing people makes me think of my dad. I’ve only met him three times. He left my mom three months after I was born, and then only dropped by a few times over the years when he was lonely, AKA horny. That’s how we ended up with my little brother, Luke. Once my mom got pregnant for the second time, he disappeared for real. I didn’t mind that he left. It was awkward with him here. He was a weird mixture of guilt and disinterest. I don’t think he cares about me or Luke at all. Certainly not my mom, well, he cares about her pussy.
Moms dated lots of other guys over the years, and some of them were nice, certainly nicer than my dad. But none of them stuck around. Not even the last one who seemed like maybe he would stay. Turned out he was married with another family on the other side of town. My mom was heartbroken because she really loved him. He was a jerk just like all of them. Anyway, I guess that’s why I feel like everybody disappears.
Because they do.
I’m in the kitchen doing the dishes when mom walks in. I’m surprised to see her since it’s earlier than she usually gets home. My stomach drops because I’m afraid she’s been fired. But her expression is happy. Nobody’s happy when they get fired.
“You’re home early.” I study her.
Her cheeks are flushed. “Yeah. Robert let me leave early today because I have a date.”
Not sure whether I should be happy for her, or worried. “He let you leave early because you have a date? That seems kind of weird to me.” What kind of boss lets you leave early because you have a date? Please God, tell me she’s not dating Robert? My stomach sinks. It’ll go bad because it always does, and then she’ll get fired and we’ll starve to death. It’s not easy for her to find jobs because of her age. She says everybody just wants to hire high school kids because they can get away with paying them minimum wage, and some older employees want a bit more because of experience.
“We weren’t very busy, so Robert decided why not save money and send me home early?” She closes the front door and hurries into her bedroom.
I follow her, feeling anxious. “The café was slow?” I hope that doesn’t mean she’s gonna lose her job because business sucks.
“Yep.” She glances over her shoulder at me. “Charity, don’t look so worried. Business goes up and down, that’s how business is. You’re such a worrier.”
I want to say maybe she should worry more than she does, but the truth is mom worries plenty. I don’t want her to get sick or anything because of stress, so maybe I should lighten up and let her enjoy the fact that she got off work early for once, and she gets to go on a date. I hope she doesn’t sleep with the guy and get pregnant again. She seems to be the most fertile woman in the world.
“Who is this guy?” I try to keep my tone polite, not judgy.
“Fred. I told you about him a million times.” She starts stripping even though I’m in the room. Mom really has no inhibitions. Maybe that’s why guys like her so much.
Sometimes I wish I could be more like her. I’m super uptight about my body. I feel like I’m too skinny half of the time, and the other half of the time I think I’m too fat. I turn away, and the sound of the shower starting reaches my ears. “I don’t remember you mentioning anybody named Fred.”
“I’m sure I’ve mentioned him. He’s great. A real gentleman.” She closes the shower door and starts humming to herself as she soaps up.
I decide the conversation can continue later, and I leave her bedroom. I go back to the kitchen to finish the dishes, trying not to let anxiety eat at me. Mom’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need me looking out for her. She can look out for herself. She’s an adult. I’m worrying way too much.
Hopefully she’s on birth control.
By the time she comes out of her bedroom, I’ve got the dishes done, and I’m searching the cupboards for something to eat for dinner. There are two cans of chicken noodle soup, and a bottle of barbeque sauce. I open the fridge and see a few bottles of Snapple, and an onion. If mom has a date, she’ll be fed. Luke and I are on our own, I guess. Does barbecue sauce go with chicken noodle soup?
“We need to grocery shop,” I say.
“Yeah.” She’s looking at her reflection in the glass door of the microwave.
“I mean, soon. There’s nothing to make Luke for dinner.”
“I’m having pizza delivered.” Her voice is bright.
I study her, wondering if she’s lost her mind. We can’t afford pizza. She doesn’t look crazy, she looks pretty. Her blond hair is full, curly, and her cheeks pink. She’s very pretty for a woman in her forties. But even pretty people lose their mind sometimes. “Mom, we don’t have the money for pizza.”
She smiles. “Fred paid for it.”
I frown. “A man I’ve never met is going to pay for my pizza?”
“Honey, he wanted to take me out. But I said I had to work so I could feed my kids. I said money doesn’t grow on trees in my world.” Her laugh is melodic. “So Fred said he’d buy you guys a pizza, and take me out to a fancy dinner
to make up for me losing a few hours at my job.”
“I see.” I really hope she’s thinking this through. “I’m not sure I love the idea of a stranger buying me pizza.”
“You like food don’t you?”
“I don’t know this Fred guy.”
She sighs. “My goodness, Charity, you’re in such a grumpy mood. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you didn’t want me to be happy.”
Anger sparks through me because mostly I’m just worried about her. “That’s not fair.”
She grimaces. “Sorry.” She moves closer and hugs me. “I know you want me happy. That was a silly thing to say.”
Her sweet perfume fills my nostrils, and I lean into her, craving her strength. I Really, really wish I trusted my mom could handle things for us. But sometimes she seems like such a child, and she’s too gullible.
She lets go of me and pats my head like I’m two. “Fred is different from the other men I’ve dated. I know you don’t believe that, and you don’t have to. But I really like him, and he really likes me.”
“You’re sure it’s not just… sex?”
A line appears between her brows. “Don’t you think a man might be interested in me for something other than that?”
“I just know how guys are.”
“They’re not all like your dad.” Her expression is melancholy.
You sure about that?
“Just be careful. I don’t need another sibling.”
She gasps. “Charity, I’m the parent here, not you.” She pulls on her jacket, and goes into my brother’s room to say goodbye to him. When she comes out she doesn’t look quite as angry. “I should be home before midnight.”
“How am I supposed to order this pizza I’ve been promised?” Maybe I don’t want to eat a pizza that a stranger pays for, but Luke needs dinner.
“Fred already ordered and paid for it. It’s scheduled to be delivered at six.”
I frown. “How did he know what we wanted on our pizza?”
“I told him, silly.”
“Do I need to tip?”
She moves to the front door. “That’s been taken care of too.” She glances back at me over her shoulder. “In time, you’ll see that Fred really is a wonderful man.”
“I certainly hope so.”
The jury is still out on good old Fred. Before I approve of this guy, let’s see if he can get the pizza order right.
Chapter Two
Mason
Mom and dad are fighting again. What’s new? Dad is home one week out of the month, and they spend almost every day arguing. My mom’s lonely, so she drinks way too much, and Dad doesn’t like it, so he rags on her. Then she gets mad because he’s picking on her after not having been home for weeks, and round and round they go.
I turn the music up on my iPhone, pressing my ear buds in tighter. My parents are so loud it barely helps. A lot of people think having all the money in the world will bring them happiness, but my family couldn’t be any richer, and I don’t feel happy. My parent sure don’t sound happy screaming at each other downstairs.
I’ve no idea what happiness even is.
My phone rings and I see it’s my best buddy Travis. He’s probably high again. I love my friend, but he’s really into weed lately, and it’s starting to annoy me. I have no issues smoking pot, but you have to be able to function. Especially when you have a job. He works as a delivery guy for Luigi’s Pizza and Pasta. Sometimes I cover for him when he’s incapacitated. It’s not officially my job because my parents refuse to let me work. Mom thinks I need to just focus on school, and Dad thinks it makes us look bad if I have a job. But I like the idea of making some money of my own, without just asking my parents for money all the time. I want some independence. So when Travis gets wasted, I sometimes fill in for him.
“Hello,” I say, answering my phone.
“Dude, I need your help.” Travis slurs slightly.
I sigh. “I figured.”
“Chrissy brought some good shit over, and I’m wasted.” He giggles. “What’s new right?”
“You’re smoking a lot of pot lately. How are you going to keep your grades up?”
“My grades are fine. But I don’t think I should drive right now. Would you want to pick up a couple of deliveries for me?”
He knows I’ll do it, even if I don’t want to. I’m not gonna let him kill himself trying to deliver a pizza when he’s high as a kite. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“You’re the best, man. I have three stops left. I already told Luigi you’d probably make those for me. He’s expecting you at the pizzeria.”
I stuff down my irritation that he’d done that before asking me. I don’t mind helping Travis out, but I don’t like being taken advantage of either. “When’s the first delivery?”
“There’s one for 5:30 p.m. and one at 6:00 p.m.” He hesitated. “Oh yeah, there’s also one 8:00 p.m.”
“Okay, I’m on my way.”
“Thanks man. I owe you one.”
“You owe me more than one.”
He snickers. “True dat.” He hangs up.
I roll my eyes, and jump up to slip on my boots. I’m actually looking forward to getting out of the house. Mom and Dad are still going at it, and I could use some fresh air. I tiptoe down the stairs, hoping my parents don’t notice me slipping out of the house.
I get in my red pickup truck, and slowly drive down the long driveway, trying not to draw attention to myself. I’m seventeen, so technically my parents can boss me around. Even when I turn eighteen, I’ll probably still live under their roof for a while. It’s so convenient to have their money at my disposal, but it does give them authority over me too. This situation sometimes makes me feel like I’m a grown up baby. I’d like to move out, maybe get a condo with some friends in town. But Travis has been so flaky lately, and I’d need a job full-time to pay rent. I guess I yearn for the freedom, but I’m not willing to cut the cord just yet. After all, I get a lot of nice perks living at home and enjoying the gobs of money my dad makes.
The sun is setting in the West, and the sky is rosy pink and purple as the day winds down. I inhale the sage infused evening air, gripping the steering wheel. I love Texas. The rugged brown and gold landscape is dotted with sheep and cattle. My dad’s in oil, but a lot of the families in our area have ranches. I’ve always kinda yearned to work on a ranch. I love riding horses, and I’ve done a bit of roping in my time. Dad doesn’t like it too much. He feels that owning a ranch is less sophisticated than running an oil company.
After about a ten-minute trip, I pull into the parking lot of Luigi’s Pizza and Pasta. When I enter the small restaurant, it’s buzzing with activity. Luigi should probably expand his business, he’s certainly busy enough. Of course, that’s easy for me to say because my dad’s rich. If Luigi expanded, he’d probably have to close down for a while, and maybe he doesn’t have the capital to weather something like that.
“Hey, Mason,” Luigi pops up from behind the counter. Behind him his crew is busy rolling dough, and tossing pizza crust in the air. “Thank you for picking up the slack for Travis.”
“No problem.” I grab the pizzas he shoves toward me, and slip them into a red vinyl carrying case that keeps them warm. “I’ll be back for the 8 o’clock delivery.”
“Thanks again!” Luigi turns to ring up a lady waiting in line.
I exit the building, and unlock my truck with the remote on my key chain. I set the pizzas on the passenger seat, and slide behind the wheel. My truck engine purrs to life, and I head out onto the main road. The first stop is a housing track with big fancy houses. The lawns are immaculate, and each driveway has a BMW or Mercedes. I sometimes get tired of only associating with rich people. I realize that seems silly, considering I’m rich, or at least my family is. But I sometimes feel we’re all a bit out of touch with the real world. Our money shields us, and therefore our view of the world isn’t necessarily accurate. But I don’t think anyone wants to hear me say that, so I keep i
t to myself.
I walk the pizzas up to the front door of the first delivery address, and ring the doorbell. The front door is huge, and I glance around at the potted flowers. When I peer closer, I realize the pink and yellow daisies are plastic. Frowning, I wonder why anyone would bother putting plastic flowers on the front porch of their million-dollar mansion.
The door opens and a willowy brunette about my age stands there. She’s got her phone against her ear, and when her gaze meets mine, she says, “Hold on a minute, Jules, there’s a gorgeous guy on my doorstep.”
Heat touches my cheeks, but I keep my expression blank. I recognize her from school. Her name’s Sophia Bladstone, and her dad is in oil, like my old man. I’ve known her since grade school. I’ve always thought she was pretty, but kind of bitchy. A lot of the girls in my school are bitchy. Spoiled might be a better word.
“$39.50 is the total.” I force a smile.
Her tongue runs over her lower lip. “You’re Mason Johnson, right?”
“Yep.” I’m not thrilled she recognized me, but I’m not exactly in the witness protection program either. It’s just awkward to run into people from school when I’m covering for Travis. I’m sure Sophia would never be caught dead delivering pizzas.
“I thought that was you.” She frowns.
Her brain is probably buzzing with questions about why Mason Johnson would be delivering pizzas. If I don’t nip this in the bud, no doubt she’ll spread rumors about my dad being bankrupt or some other bullshit.
“My buddy Travis needed help. I figured anything was better than doing Statistics homework.” I make sure my smile is confident.
“Oh.” She laughs. “True enough.” She holds out some cash, and when I take it from her, her fingers linger against mine.
“Thanks.” I hand her the pizzas.
“Keep the change,” she coos. She acts like she’s giving me a huge tip, but she only handed me two twenty dollar bills. I’m making fifty cents on the deal. Her dad’s a millionaire, and all she can spare is fifty cents?
Cheapskate.
“Have a good evening,” I say, jumping down the steps, and heading toward my truck.
