Maddox

by Lisa Helen Gray

  Mum: Just to let you know, your dad left about ten minutes ago, and he was acting weird. I thought nothing of it until I saw Trent’s hockey stick gone from by the front door. Both of them. I’m pretty sure they were there when he left though. He might have come back, I’m not sure. I’ve been upstairs.

  “Shit,” I murmur. He did say he was dealing with next door tonight, and I forgot about it.

  Maddox: I’ll make sure he doesn’t get arrested, Mum.

  Mum: That doesn’t reassure me. I’m just glad he went alone and didn’t take your uncle Max with him.

  She isn’t wrong there.

  A screech of tyres spinning on the tarmac has my blood running cold. I shove my phone into my back pocket instead of calling Dad. I race through the hallway, to the front door, swinging it open. Lights blind me for a second before the car shuts down.

  I gape as my dad steps out with Mason sliding out of the passenger side, both with a hockey stick in their hands.

  “Fuck!” I grimace, shutting the door to.

  He promised he wouldn’t go over the top. I don’t want to get arrested.

  Whispers begin next door, and I watch as Kayne and his mates get up from their deck chairs, going on alert.

  “Turn the fucking music off and keep it fucking off,” Dad orders, slamming his car door shut.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Kayne barks, just as his mum comes barging out of the front door, a can of cider in one hand, a fag in the other.

  Dad stops at the edge of the path, Mason next to him, both looking menacing. “Your worst fucking nightmare if that isn’t turned off.”

  Cassie laughs, dropping her fag to the floor and stomping on it. “You can’t stop us from having a party.”

  Mason turns to Cassie, his lip curling with disgust. “It’s after ten, so we fucking can.”

  “You don’t even live here,” Kayne snaps.

  “No, but you’ve got plenty of other neighbours who are fucked off hearing it,” Dad replies, taking a step onto their path.

  “Are you going to turn it off?” Mason demands.

  “You wanna fight, old man?” a gangly kid with yellow teeth asks.

  Dad doesn’t even spare him a glance. “Pipe down, little boy. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  The kid throws his can to the ground, puffing his chest out. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? I’ll knock your head off your shoulders.”

  When he rushes at Dad, I step out of the door, readying to jump in. Dad grips him around the neck, squeezing until the kid’s eyes begin to bulge.

  Just before anyone else can make a move, tyres skid along the road. The car comes to a stop over the pavement and half of the garden. I gawk as Max comes out, a bat swinging over his shoulder.

  But that isn’t even the worst of it.

  “What the fuck?” Mason breathes out, his eyes widening.

  “You tryin’ to fuck with my nephew?”

  “Fucking hell. We just want to chill out,” Cassie screeches as she turns to me. “You can’t man up, so you have to send the calvary?” Her eyes go to Max, her lip curling. “And a member of the Village People.”

  My lips twist in disgust. “Like I need them to sort you lot fucking out. I’m just done with your shit. It’s time you had a bit of your own medicine.”

  “Are you going to turn it off?” Dad repeats, dropping the hockey stick to his side.

  “Am I fuck,” Cassie screeches. “It’s my home. I can do what the fuck I like.”

  “And as a public citizen who is fed up of your shit, so can I,” he tells her, throwing the lad to the side.

  The girls screech, racing off the garden as Dad charges at the sound system, swinging the hockey stick and shattering it to pieces.

  “Stop!” Cassie cries, stepping away from the broken plastic flying everywhere.

  Kayne and his mates go to intervene, but Mason and Max step in, stopping them from getting to Dad.

  “You want to party?” Max screams, smashing the bat against a chair, causing it to fly across the garden.

  Dad grabs the extension lead wire that is hanging out the window, yanking it hard. Something smashes inside and screams echo into the silence of the night. A few girls and a couple of guys come racing out.

  I’m frozen on the spot, still shocked at the sight of my uncle Max. He swings at another chair, cracking the cheap plastic and breaking it before getting into a lad’s face. “You want to listen to music, go to a fucking club like normal people.”

  “You can’t do this,” Cassie screeches, going for my dad when he swings the hockey stick up before bringing it down on the speaker. “You are going to pay for that.”

  He gently pushes her away, and the look in his eyes stops her short. “I can do this. You’ve had chance after chance to turn this crap off. You didn’t. Now, if I find out this has been replaced, I’ll be back, and it won’t be as civilised.”

  “You can’t stop me,” she snaps.

  “He’s crazy,” I hear whispered, and I turn to see a couple of girls gaping at my uncle, who is now jumping on the roof of Kayne’s car, banging on his chest with one fist and holding the bat up with the other.

  “Are you not entertained!” he yells, before slapping his hand over mouth repeatedly as he howls.

  “I’m calling the police.”

  Dad leans down, getting in her face. “Call them. I dare you. In fact, my niece’s fiancé is a cop. I’ll call him.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “You partying like you’re still a teenager is what’s ridiculous,” Dad snaps.

  Max roars, jumping down from the car in front of one of Kayne’s mates. The guy staggers backwards, tripping over some rubbish left on the weeds. He falls on his arse, crawling backwards with fear etched onto his face.

  “Yeah, you know it,” Max barks, before bursting into crazy laughter.

  “Don’t make me come back,” Dad warns.

  Kayne sways on his feet for a moment before marching over to his mum, blood pouring out of his nose. She takes one look at him and her eyes harden. “Get the fuck off our garden before I set them all on you.”

  Dad shrugs, and walks over the grass to get to mine. I watch as the others either leave or follow Cassie and Kayne inside.

  My lips are still parted as Max walks up to us, his outfit squeaking. He reaches back, pushing his hand down the back of his trousers.

  Leather trousers.

  “Wedgy,” he mutters. Dad comes to stand by my side, Mason on the other as we stand gawking at him. He blinks up at us. “What?”

  “What the fuck are you wearing?” I burst out.

  “How do you even own that?” Dad asks, then pauses, closing his eyes. “Don’t answer that.”

  “I’m speechless.”

  Max growls low in his throat, narrowing his eyes into slits. He pulls the leather vest closed over his naked chest. The squeak from the leather rubbing together echoes through the air. He has a chain going from the little pocket on the front of his vest to the hoop on the trousers.

  “Lake likes it when I dress up,” he mutters defensively.

  “So she can have a laugh?” Mason retorts.

  “No, she gets—"

  “Eww,” I cry out, turning away from him. “I don’t need to hear this shit.”

  “You asked,” Max snaps.

  “What made you wear it fucking here?” Dad asks. “In fact, how the fuck did you know I was here?”

  “Harlow messaged to threaten me. She thought I was with you and said if I got you arrested, she was cutting off my food supply at her house. Like she would ever go through with it.”

  “Shit!”

  “Well, if seeing Max in leather doesn’t scare them, nothing will,” I let out, grinning.

  “I think I look pretty hot,” he replies, jutting his hips side to side.

  I can’t help it, laughter bursts out of me, and Dad and Mason do the same, doubling over.

  “You look like a dickhead,” Dad comme
nts.

  “A crazy, demented dickhead,” Mason adds.

  “I can’t,” I gasp out through laughter.

  “Fuck you all,” Max growls. “If they don’t stop, I’ll be back.”

  “As Tinker Bell?” I ask, laughing harder when his expression turns to stone.

  He storms off with our laughter filling the air. He stops at his car door, turning to give us one disgruntled look before getting in. The squeaking of his outfit sets us all off again, tears of laughter running down our cheeks.

  “I swear, he was dropped way too much as a baby,” Dad declares, wiping under his eyes before turning to me. “If it starts up again, call me.”

  “Shit!” Mason growls, closing his eyes.

  I give him a sideways look. “What?”

  “I didn’t get a fucking picture of Max.”

  “Fuck! Me neither.”

  Dad snorts. “My dash cam was recording.”

  I laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. “Send it to me.”

  “See you tomorrow,” he tells me, before he and Mason head down the path.

  I lift my hand, giving them a wave as they pull out and drive away. My gaze goes to Amelia’s, and I jerk on the spot when I see her standing on the doorstep, Asher getting rocked in her arms.

  I hold my hand up to tell her to give me a minute. I race to the door, leaning in to grab my keys before jogging across the road to hers.

  “Hey,” I greet, leaning down to kiss Asher on the head.

  “Um, I’m tired, so excuse me if I sound crazy, but was your, um, uncle acting like a lunatic across the road?”

  I sigh. I had hoped she missed the whole thing. “Yeah. I’m sorry if he’s disturbed you.”

  “And wearing leather?” she asks, still bug-eyed.

  I rub the back of my neck. “He got in an accident and it was the only clothing they had left. He’s a good sport.”

  “Leather? Accident?”

  I nod. “It’s okay. What’s one more bump on the head for him,” I comment, before reaching out to pick up my favourite little man. “You miss me?” I laugh, shaking my head. “Of course you missed me.”

  “I don’t even know what to say,” she whispers.

  “Want to watch a movie in bed?”

  “W-what?” Amelia stutters. “But there’s no music, and Asher is fine tonight.”

  I push my way through the door, keeping Asher close to my chest. “I’m bored. C’mon.”

  She slowly shuts the door, a pained expression on her face as she groans, “Oh, all right then.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  AMELIA

  The keys clink on the table as I drop them there. My feet are sore from being on them all day, and my back aches. All I want to do is go to bed, but I can’t. On my way out this morning, I ran into the postman, who handed me our mail. I forgot all about it until my lunch break. What I read had my blood boiling.

  I pad into the living room, inwardly groaning at the sight of him lounged back in the chair, his headset over his head and the controller stuck to his hand. It’s the same position I left him in this morning.

  I stand in front of him, slapping the invoice down on the coffee table, startling him. He grits his teeth, pressing pause on his game. “What the fuck, Amelia.”

  “What is this?”

  I scan the room, my face heating when I see not one thing has been done, which means bedtime is looking later and later.

  “It’s an invoice for my subscription,” he mutters dryly.

  “I told you I couldn’t afford it this month, Cameron.”

  He throws his controller onto the coffee table, glaring up at me. “Sorry, mum.”

  “Don’t,” I warn him, keeping my voice low, even.

  He gets up, moving into the kitchen. “I swear to fucking Christ, Amelia. I’m trying. I’m really trying. Do you think I like having you support me? Because I don’t. Yet you constantly bring me down. You rub it in my face every fucking chance you get.”

  I take a step back. “That wasn’t what I was doing.”

  He jabs his finger towards me. “Yes, you were. You always do it. Do you get a kick out of making me feel low? Do you? Because I’m fucking sick of it.”

  “We have electric to pay for, Cameron. You can’t just purchase a gaming subscription. We have a two-year-old to think about.”

  He pushes off the counter, storming up to me. “Don’t bring Jasmine into this.”

  “Cameron,” I whisper, my voice shaking.

  He throws his hands up, shoving his face into my space. “You aren’t the one here all day. You aren’t the one who has to deal with her crying, messing with shit. I am. You go to work, but I’m doing the hard part.”

  “Cameron,” I repeat.

  “And then you come in here all high and fucking mighty, spitting shit at me. I don’t need this crap.”

  I flinch when he moves forward, gripping me by the chin with enough force to bruise. “Cameron,” I repeat, seeing that far away, dead look in his eye.

  “I’ve fucking had it. Is it too much to ask for you to treat me like a man?”

  “I-I’m sorry,” I croak out.

  He forces out a laugh before his expression turns to stone. “No, you aren’t.”

  I try to nod but his hand keeps my head in place. I try to grip his wrists to push him away, but he slaps them away with his free hand. “Please, Cameron. We can talk about this. Maybe we have time to cancel the subscription.”

  His nostrils flare, and he backhands me across the face, causing me to drop to the floor with a thud. I cup my cheek, tears streaming down my face.

  “Fuck’s sake,” he growls, turning his back to me. “Stop fucking crying.”

  I sniffle louder, unable to look in his direction.

  “I said, stop fucking crying!”

  “Amelia!”

  I catapult awake, landing on the floor with a thud. I blink my eyes open, glancing around the small office.

  “Amelia,” Tracey cries, bending down on the floor next to me.

  I flinch, and it takes me a minute to remember this is my aunt. It isn’t Cameron. It was just a nightmare.

  I inwardly groan, wiping the sleep out of my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Tracey. I came in for my break and I must have fallen asleep.”

  She helps me back into the chair as tears gather in my eyes. This is my third week back, and I am both physically and emotionally exhausted.

  “Sweet girl, you have so much to juggle. Maybe coming back now was too soon.”

  I sniffle and reach for the box of tissues beside me on the desk, pulling one out to blow my nose. “I need the money, Tracey. I can’t miss any payments. I don’t have much left to pay off. I should have them cleared by the end of the year, thanks to Mum and Dad not taking rent off me.”

  She swipes my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I have money I can give you. You shouldn’t be working yourself into the ground.”

  “I need to do this,” I tell her.

  “What about letting us pay it off, save you paying the interest, then you pay us monthly? Would that help?”

  I shake my head, almost tempted. “No. I can’t let anyone do that.”

  “Let me,” she pleads. “You’re so young, Amelia. You have two beautiful children and it’s going to fly by. Don’t spend it worrying over debt that wasn’t yours to begin with. Let me help you. Please.”

  My head hangs low and my shoulders shake as sobs tear from my throat. “I’ve tried so hard. So, so hard. When I became pregnant, I was determined never to receive government help. Not because I think there is something wrong with it but because I wanted to prove it wasn’t me. Everyone I know turned on me. There were whispers. I heard them, Tracey,” I explain, sniffling. “‘That’s her sat on her arse at home, living off tax-payers’. ‘I always knew she would end up a dosser’. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me if she got pregnant on purpose to get the benefits’. ‘Oh, why am I not surprised another teenager is pregnant. Another person a tax-payer
has to provide for’. It hurt. I didn’t believe anything they said. I still don’t. What choices people make, it’s up to them. But I wanted to do it on my own.”

  She grabs my hands, squeezing them. “You’re killing yourself doing it, sweetie.”

  “I’m failing,” I cry out.

  “Oh honey,” she whispers, pulling me against her chest. “You aren’t failing. And asking for help isn’t failing. It’s living. Women have been doing this for years and it comes with highs and lows. It comes with laughter and tears. And it tears your heart open in the worst and best possible way. Parenting is kind of like Bipolar; it has its ups and its downs. This is just a down moment. And it will pass, my sweet child.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Let me help you.”

  “I can’t let you,” I whisper, unable to meet her gaze.

  She pulls back, kissing my forehead. “Please, Amelia. It’s breaking my heart watching you exhaust yourself into the ground. Your mum is beside herself with worry. Your dad is getting twitchy. They’ve left you be because they respect your wishes, but, sweet girl, they are worried sick.”

  I wipe at my nose, meeting her gaze. “What? I-I… why didn’t they say anything?”

  Her eyes drop a little, her lips tipping down. “Because they love you.”

  I can’t bear them going through anything else because of me. I can’t. “I didn’t mean to. I just want them to be proud of me. I messed up with Cameron. Big time.”

  “You didn’t mess up; he did. You’ve overcome so much, but that… It’s not people judging you, it’s you,” she tells me softly. “And your parents couldn’t be prouder. You are a wonder and such a beautiful, kind, caring woman.”

  “Tracey,” I whisper.

  “It’s time to lean on people, Amelia. The ones who love you have their arms wide open waiting for you to catch on. We are here for you.”

  I wipe under my eyes, feeling a weight begin to leave my shoulders as I sag against the chair. “And you’ll let me pay you back?”

  To my shock, Tracey’s eyes begin to water. She grips my hands so tightly I almost flinch. “You’re saying yes?”