“Cable wasn’t evading your questions or lying about not knowing who was responsible for the email, Mrs. McCaffrey. We didn’t exactly run in the same circles, and our paths rarely crossed.” I was in AP classes, studying my ass off to get as close to a perfect SAT score as I could. Cable was skipping class and scoring the kinds of things that landed him in prison. “I’m happy to hear Cable is getting some help, but we were never friends or even casual acquaintances, so I’m a little confused as to why you felt the need to track me down and update me on his whereabouts.” It was information I didn’t ask for and didn’t need. It was information that would send the rest of my fellow graduates into a tizzy. Half the graduating class were still loyal members of the Cable fan club. The other half . . . well, the blinders had been ripped off, and they were pretty pissed they’d been worshiping a false idol for so many years. When a god falls, he leaves a pretty big dent in the ground where his worshipers walked.
I couldn’t deny there was a tingle of relief working its way down my spine at the knowledge that he had no choice but to stay clean. For his mom’s sake, since she seemed to really care, I hope it stuck. I wanted someone to beat addiction, even if that someone was Cable.
“You may not have been close friends, but it’s clear you cared about him. You didn’t want him to keep using drugs. You were looking out for him, and that’s why I’m here. He needs people in his life who have his best interests at heart. He needs someone who won’t automatically tell him what he wants to hear.” She looked away, and I realized she knew as soon as she said the words, that person should be her or her ex-husband. She knew, but her hands were tied because Cable had shut her out. “He’s not talking to me at the moment. He hasn’t since he was sentenced.”
I couldn’t hold back a snort. “That’s rude. The least he could do was thank you for paying for all those lawyers who got him three years instead of five.” They were also the ones who made it possible for him to get out after serving only eighteen months. She made a strangled noise and picked up her coffee to take a sip. Our five minutes had bled into fifteen, and I purposely looked at the screen of my phone to indicate I needed to get back to work. “I need to get back. I’m not sure what kind of relationship you think I have with your son, but I assure you that I’m not the sympathetic ear or understanding shoulder you seem to be looking for. I know what addiction can do to a family. I couldn’t stop it from ruining mine, but I thought maybe I could stop it from ruining yours.” I shouldn’t have bothered. Addiction always seemed to win. So far in my experience, it was undefeated.
I went to stand up when one of her manicured hands shot out and locked around my wrist. I stilled instantly and felt my eyebrows shoot up as high as they could go. Her fingers were shaking and her lips were trembling. She looked like she was about to cry, so I slowly lowered myself back into my seat. “I don’t want you for me, Affton. I want you for Cable.”
I felt my jaw drop and heard my breath suck in so loudly she couldn’t have missed it. I was sure I misheard her, so I narrowed my eyes and snapped, “Excuse me?”
Her fingers tightened on my wrist and her perfectly painted lips pressed into a tight grimace. “Cable’s father owns a house on the Gulf down in Port Aransas. It’s a vacation property he rarely uses. Cable is going there for the summer, but his father and I only agreed that he could use the house if he stays clean and continues seeking treatment for his addiction. He’s going to be called in for random drug screens for the next ninety days, and if any of his tests come back positive, he goes right back to jail.”
I tugged my hand until she reluctantly let go. I rubbed the spot and continued to watch her through narrowed eyes. “All of that sounds reasonable, but again . . . I’m failing to see what any of this has to do with me.” Letting Cable loose in a tourist town packed with sun chasers and party people didn’t seem to be the brightest idea, but what did I know about the rich?
“The deal is that if Cable manages to stay clean for the entire summer, if he takes his sobriety seriously, then we’ll return control of his accounts back over to him. Right now, he has no access to anything. No money. No cars. None of our connections. He is only given what we allow him to have. That’s part of the reason he won’t speak to me.”
I snorted again and crossed my arms over my chest. “The last thing a recovering addict needs is unfettered access to money. That’s part of the reason it was so easy for him to develop a habit in the first place. Your son is a drug dealer’s proverbial wet dream.”
She nodded seriously. “I know that now. I’m not risking my son’s life again. If I can’t be the one watching over him, then it needs to be someone else who cares about him. I don’t want to push him. I’m worried he would use again just to prove a point if I hover over him too closely.”
“What point would he be proving?” For having everything anyone could ever want, the McCaffreys were all kinds of jacked-up on the emotional front.
“That I’m a bad mother.” This time there was no almost about it. She was crying. Big, fat crystal tears that looked like something you would see on a daytime soap opera. Real people didn’t look pretty when they cried. “I didn’t save him. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t protect him.” She sniffed loudly and lifted a hand to wipe her damp cheeks. “I can’t be there, but you can.”
I laughed so sharp and short that it hurt my chest. I put a hand on my stomach and leaned back in my chair. “This is some kind of joke, right? There’s a hidden camera somewhere or something.” I looked frantically around the quiet coffee shop, but nothing seemed out of place. Reba was singing along to Fancy over the sound system, and my boss was watching my bizarre meeting from behind the counter with undisguised curiosity.
Cable’s mom folded her hands together on the table and lifted her chin. This was no longer the grieving mother. This was the legacy who made millions while most of the town slept at night. She was battle ready and taking no prisoners. “I’m very serious, Affton. Cable’s father and I are finally on the same page about our son’s health. Relapse is not an option, so we want to hire you to be our son’s sober companion for the duration of the summer. It will be your job to monitor his behavior and let us know if he’s slipped up at all. You’ll oversee his monthly allowance and be responsible for making sure he goes to meetings and keeps his appointments with his court-ordered counselor.” Her shoulders stiffened, and her chin lifted a notch more. “Berkeley is impressive, but it is also incredibly expensive. I’m fully prepared to make you an offer you would be insane to refuse.”
I let out another one of those painful laughs and ran a hand over my astonished face. I’d heard of sober companions before . . . on TV. No one in the real world could afford a glorified babysitter for a mostly capable adult. Plus, she was asking for the impossible.
The only way an addict got clean was if they wanted to. No amount of love, supervision, or pressure could make a junkie go straight. She was fighting a losing battle; it didn’t matter how many soldiers she sent to war.
“Berkeley is expensive, but I got a scholarship. I understand what you’re trying to do, I even understand why you’re doing it. But you have to understand, the only person who can keep Cable clean is Cable.” It wasn’t going to be because he wanted his cushy life back either. It was going to have to be because he wanted a life, period.
She gave a jerky nod, and her lips tightened. “I know about the scholarship; your father told me. He’s very proud of you. California is very expensive. The money will make your life so much easier, Affton. You’ll be able to study and have fun while experiencing new things, instead of working two or three jobs to make ends meet. The world is so much bigger than Loveless. Take the money, and you’ll get the chance to experience it.”
I shook my head reflexively. I didn’t want to make any kind of deal with this woman, and I didn’t want to try and save another addict and fail. “I’ll make do with what I have, Mrs. McCaffrey.”
She sighed and climbed to her feet. She smoothed a hand
down the material of her skirt, and I watched as her fingers curled into a fist at her side. Her dark eyes narrowed, and I tilted my head back to gain a few millimeters of space. I got the sense that I was in the path of a predator and I was about to be eaten alive.
“Most teenagers see an opportunity for easy money, and they take it. I was hoping it would be that easy with you, but I suppose I should have known better. Every other teenager in this town ignored the signs my son was turning into a junkie because they were worried he wouldn’t like them anymore.” Her eyes rolled over my lopsided ponytail and my typical uniform of a plain tank top and jeans. “You clearly aren’t concerned with the things typical teenage girls worry about.”
Again, with the dig about my appearance. I was even more certain that Cable inherited his worst traits from this woman. Someone taught him how to go for the unprotected underbelly and exploit that weakness.
“I didn’t want it to come down to this, but I’m afraid you have left me no choice.” She met my gaze unflinchingly as I started to shake at her blatant threat. “You’re off to college soon. You have your entire life ahead of you . . . but what about your dad? What does he have after you’re gone, Affton? What’s he going to do if he suddenly finds himself unemployed and all alone? You’ve got a way out, but we both know your dad is stuck here, his roots are buried deep, and if I want to make his life difficult, I can, with very little effort.”
I balked and briefly considered grabbing the last of the latte she hadn’t finished so I could throw it in her face. “You’re unbelievable.” I got to my feet and placed my hands flat on the table to prevent myself from reaching for her instead. My eyes narrowed to slits as we faced off. Fury was clear in every line of my body, and determination was evident in every curve of hers.
She shook her impeccably coiffed head in the negative. “No, I’m a desperate mother.”
“Remember how well it worked out for you when you blackmailed your kid into rehab?” If she could throw the incident around, then so could I. “What makes you think this is going to be any different? What if he uses even though I’m there? What assurance do I have that you won’t mess with my dad?” I put a hand to my throat as I tried to bite back bile and a flood of bad words. That was too much responsibility. It had nearly crushed me once; I didn’t know if I could survive it again.
“It will be different this time because it has to be. There is too much at stake. If he uses, he goes back to prison for violating parole, and he gets cut off. If you do everything in your power to keep him clean, you’ll get a sizable fee for the summer, and your father’s position will be secure.” She reached for her purse and pulled out a business card. I stared at it for a long time, refusing to take it from her. She put it on the table with a heavy sigh and took a step around me. Quietly, so that only I could hear her, she told me, “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to save my son. Whatever. It. Takes.”
She swept out the door leaving me reeling. I had no doubt that she would dismantle my father’s easy, predictable life to get her way.
Growling under my breath, I snatched up the card she left and tucked it into my back pocket. I thought I hated Cable James McCaffrey . . . but I had no idea what hate was until his mother came calling. I wanted to strangle her. I wanted to run her over with my old, beat-up Volkswagen. I wanted to claw that desperate look off her face.
All I’d ever wanted was to be out of Loveless. Ever since I was old enough to understand that I was the only one that could make things happen for myself, my every move had been carefully weighed to get me out of Nowhere, Texas. I was proud of the choices I’d made, pleased with my progress. I’d earned my freedom through blood, sweat, and tears . . . suffered through years of being the girl no one knew because I was singularly focused on one thing, and that one thing was not my social life. All the sacrifice was for nothing if Melanie McCaffrey handed me a golden ticket and offered me a ride out on easy street. All the hours of working to be at the top of my class to guarantee a shot at my dream school meant nothing if I took her blank check. All the years, the hours of hard work my dad put in to support us and to make sure I had a good life were worthless if one determined, desperate woman could strip it all away without even blinking an eye.
That trouble I borrowed when I was silly enough to try and save Cable was the gift that just kept on giving, even when I was more than ready to give it all back.
Cable
Port Aransas
I LIKED THE water.
I appreciated the way it could be calm and serene one minute, but as soon as something disrupted the surface, it could rage and churn with a scary kind of violence.
I also respected that you could never tell what was lurking beneath the surface. There was no telling how deep the water was until you waded in. One minute your feet were solidly on the sandy bottom, the next you were in over your head. Sinking, falling, flailing as you went under.
That was pretty much how I felt every single day of my life. Some days I could touch the bottom, but more often than not I was struggling to find my way to the surface, desperate for a breath of air.
I watched the water roll up over my toes, touching the torn hem of my jeans. My ass had been planted in the sand for a couple of hours now, and the tide was starting to come in. I was soaking wet, and my jeans were going to weigh a ton by the time I made my way back up to my dad’s waterfront beach house. I couldn’t find the energy to care about the tide or the hazy knowledge that I was going to be entirely uncomfortable when I finally got to my feet. My impending discomfort had little to do with wet denim and clammy underwear and everything to do with the reality that the solitude I’d been searching for was about to be snatched away from me. All I wanted was to be alone. I had spent the last year and a half of my life surrounded by criminals and correctional officers, and addicts and counselors. I’d been swarmed by the worst of the worst, and all I wanted was some room to breathe.
I wasn’t getting it.
My parents thought I was a danger to myself and to their pristine reputations. They didn’t want to leave me to my own devices. They didn’t trust me . . . and I couldn’t blame them. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t queasy about the idea of having someone watch my every move while I tried to make my way back to a place where my feet touched the ground. I resented the thought that I needed a babysitter, and I hated the idea that anyone would be close enough to me to see the fractures in the mask I wore day to day. They would see the true ugliness I wasn’t sure I had the ability to hide anymore. If I wanted to stay out of prison and get any kind of independence back, that meant no more leaning on the crutch of drugs to keep all that darkness at bay. No more pretending like I was fine, that life was nothing more than a party that didn’t start until I showed up.
I’d been steadily working my way through a bottle of shitty, cinnamon-flavored whiskey for the last couple of hours, and I had hoped it would take the edge off the bubbling irritation that was already under my skin. I wasn’t supposed to be drinking. I wasn’t supposed to be doing any of the things I’d always done. No booze. No drugs. No sex. Pretty much no fun.
The vices were a distraction; I knew that even before the prison shrink tried to enlighten me. I’d never wanted to focus on myself, on the fact I was inherently unhappy with no real reason to feel that way. I had everything anyone could want. I was privileged . . . special . . . but none of it mattered. I couldn’t remember a time when I woke up satisfied and content with my life. I was always getting sucked under, lungs filling with dissatisfaction; but the girls, the partying, all helped to make the feeling of suffocation less powerful. I wasn’t thinking about myself either; I was thinking about making the girls feel good, or I was too impaired to feel at all. I felt like I was treading water. Admittedly, the more I used, the more I took from others, the farther out I drifted. Every day I could see the shore getting farther and farther away. By then, I was caught in a current and there was no fighting my way back. I let it suck me under without struggle . . . wit
hout complaint.
I made a face as I took another pull on the bottle. I couldn’t figure out why the whiskey needed to be candy-flavored, but considering I’d conned it off a group of underage, high school girls, it didn’t surprise me they’d been drinking this. They were probably only a couple of years younger than me, cute and inviting in their tiny bikinis. They wanted me to join them, and if I wasn’t expecting a very unwanted visitor, I probably would have. I didn’t have much of a choice when it came to giving up drugs and booze, but no one was going to be checking up on my sex life. The only person accountable for my dick was me. That was a vice I could still hold onto, and I had no doubt I would. Of all the things I’d ever indulged, girls were always the easiest to score.
I took the bottle when it was offered, told the girls I would be around for the summer, and proceeded to chug the vile stuff as the sun went down. I was going to be screwed if I got called in for a surprise screen tomorrow, not just because I was violating my parole, but because I was still technically underage as well, even though I was staring down the barrel of my twenty-first birthday. Every time I took a drink, I was risking my neck. The judge who sentenced me would love nothing more than to tack on time to my original sentence. I couldn’t bring myself to care too much. I didn’t want to go back to prison, but the need to numb all the emotions rioting inside of me outweighed any fear of the consequences. I never gave a shit about the consequences . . . that was how I ended up in this mess from the get-go.
I never cared what the drugs were doing to me, what they were doing to my life, what they were doing to the people around me. All I cared about was the way I felt when I was high. I was free. I was above all the things pressing down on me. I was out from under the weight that was always there sitting heavy on my chest. I wasn’t happy . . . but it was as close as I’d ever been, which was why it was so easy to let the current carry me so far out.
Recovered Page 3
