Unsupervised (Slumming It Book 1)

by S. M. Shade

  The residents at the retirement home have become my friends too, and I won’t disappoint them or let down the other students who are counting on the concert to fulfill the requirements for their project. My hope is that he won’t come, especially since he’s finally stopped texting and calling.

  Zara warned me that it’s not smart to make big life decisions when you’re hurting, but I’m confident in the conclusions I’ve come to over the past few days. Serena’s words have helped me put some things in perspective and for the first time, I’m making changes based on what I want, instead of what others think is best.

  Months ago, when I left home, it was because I didn’t want to be controlled by a man, whether it was my fiancé or my father. I won’t be controlled by my feelings for one either. I’m getting my life together in the way that I want.

  My first step is a talk with Jesse Cooper. We sit down after my last piano lesson of the evening and he lays out the job offer, which frankly is better than I thought it would be. Full time with a salary that will let me pay my bills while saving a bit, and full health benefits. It’ll be a lot of work, but this job has been one of the best things to come out of all this, along with my new friends.

  Jesse studies me for a moment. “Are you sure you can make this work around your school?”

  “I’m quitting school, well, all except my music class that I want to finish. College just isn’t for me, at least not right now. Music is what I love. Teaching the kids here and chatting with the customers who come in. This is where I want to be.”

  He beams and nods. “I’m glad to hear it, and Dad will be too. He’s ready to retire as soon as you can start.”

  We go over my schedule that still needs to account for my music class twice a week and the concert eventually, but it works out. As of tomorrow, I’ll be full time. Now, I have two more things to do today to get my shit straightened out, one I’m dreading more than the other.

  My next stop is the administrative office at school to drop my classes. It’s late in the year, which means I only get half the money back, but it’s a start. I half expected the counselor to try to talk me out of it, but I guess they have too many students to take that kind of personal interest. After signing a form, I’m handed a check for the tuition reimbursement and I’m on my way.

  Now, it’s time to face Trey. He answers quickly when I text him.

  Me: Are you busy? I need to talk to you.

  Him: Do you need bail money? Are you wearing clothes?

  Call for a rescue one time and now I’m the naked criminal. Asshole.

  Me: Very funny.

  Him: Come on over. Just come in, don’t knock. Sasha and Rowan are napping.

  Me: On my way.

  I’m not sure what reaction to expect from Trey. It’s not like he insisted I had to go to school and he hasn’t tried to tell me what to do, but he’s helped me so much, even bought me that scooter, and I don’t want to seem ungrateful.

  Trey’s house is beautiful, but it’s not what you’d expect from someone who came into millions overnight. His mobile game went viral and was bought by a developer. It changed his life in an instant, but he didn’t buy a mansion or start flashing money around. We grew up with money. It’s not new to us, and as much as our parents hate it, we both chose freedom over cash.

  Trey sits on the end of a long sectional couch in the living room, his feet propped on an ottoman, tapping away on a laptop.

  “Hey, am I interrupting your work?”

  “No, I’m trying to win an auction for this baby thing Sasha wants. These assholes keep sniping it out from under me.” He sets the laptop aside. “Okay, let’s hear it. What did you do?”

  My arms cross over my chest. “What makes you think I did something?”

  “Past experience.” He grins at me. “Remember the time you got powdered cocoa over every inch of the kitchen and we had to spend two hours cleaning it up before Mom found out?”

  “You’re the one who fed me a spoon of it!”

  “You asked for it!”

  “I thought it would be like Nesquik! You knew what you were doing.”

  The memory of that bitter powder in my mouth makes me wince but remembering how I had coughed and sprayed it everywhere makes me laugh, and he joins in.

  “Anyway, I came to give you this and let you know I’ll pay you back the rest each month. It shouldn’t take me more than six months.”

  Trey takes the check and raises an eyebrow at me.

  “College isn’t for me. I’m going to go to work full time at Cooper’s Music. I don’t want to go to school when I don’t even have a career I want to pursue.”

  “You’re dropping out?”

  God, I hate that phrase. It beats in my head along with the word loser. A dropout. A nobody. I’m not going to let that dissuade me.

  “Yes. I’m going to finish the music class because I enjoy it, and because others in my group are counting on me.” I look my brother in the eye. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Please don’t think that I don’t, or that I’m giving up. I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

  My voice cracks on the last word. Trey is the big brother I’ve always idolized, and the only family I have left now. If I lost him, I don’t know what I’d do.

  “Kelly, I suggested college because you didn’t know what you wanted, and because you had no friends here. If you’ve figured out it isn’t for you and you want to try something else, that’s fine. It’s better than fine. You aren’t going to disappoint me by making your own decisions. That’s the point of all this. Tell me about your new job.”

  We spend the next few minutes talking about my job and how I’m doing, then about him and how he’s adjusting to being a Dad. When I’m preparing to leave, he catches me off guard with a question.

  “What has you down? You’re excited for your job but something else is going on. If it’s guy trouble, just tell me who to punch in the face.”

  Is it that transparent? Forcing a smile, I shake my head. “You aren’t punching anyone. Yeah, I got my heart broken. Another adult experience to add to the pile, huh? But I’ll be okay.”

  “Someone from school?”

  Yeah, you could say that.

  “I met him at school. It’s over now. It doesn’t matter. There are other things I want to focus on.” Just as I get to my feet, a horrible scream comes from the next room.

  “Ahhhhh!”

  Trey’s face pales.

  Another scream. “Ow! Damn it!”

  “Oh no, I forgot!” Trey leaps to his feet and rushes into the next room with me right on his heels. The sound of Rowan crying filters down the hall.

  Fear fills me at the thought that Sasha has really hurt herself but that didn’t sound like her voice. It’s too high pitched. I enter the kitchen in time to hear another scream of “Fucking hell!” before Trey scoops up the culprit.

  A robot vacuum cleaner.

  “What the hell is going on?” Sasha asks, bleary eyed, a crying Rowan balanced on her hip. Poor Sasha. What a way to ruin a nap.

  Trey holds the vacuum and tries to turn it off. “I’m sorry. I programmed it to curse when it runs into things but not that loud, then I forgot to turn it off and—”

  “Ow! My dick!” the robot shouts. Its wheels start spinning in midair as it shrieks, “Bitch, I’m stuck! Help!”

  Sasha glares at him. “Turn it off!”

  “I’m trying!”

  Trey struggles with it. It looks like he’s trying to get a battery out while the robot keeps shouting obscenities.

  My laughter can’t be heard over all the noise. Rowan’s screams add to the cacophony and the last couple of shouts from the robot I hear before I escape have me laughing all the way out the door. I don’t know what a shitskittle is or why you’d scream “bitch titties” when you hurt yourself, but really, who programs a robot vacuum to do this anyway? Only my brother.

  Leaving him to Sasha’s wrath, I hop on my scooter, still giggling. It
’s the most I’ve laughed since Layton left. Holding my head back, I let the sun warm my face and take a deep breath. I’m a mess, but clearly, I’m not alone in that. I’m going to be alright.

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” Remee asks as I get ready for a date with the guy Zara was trying to set me up with. Both her friend and the one Serena wants me to meet were pretty much forgotten as I got more wrapped up in Layton.

  Layton. I still can’t get him off of my mind even after a month. I’ve done my best to stay busy, which hasn’t been hard between my job, music class, and getting ready for the concert at the retirement home.

  I’ve still been visiting, but I try to pick times when I know he’ll be at work, so I won’t cross paths with him. Maybe it’s immature, but I just can’t look into those eyes right now.

  Serena’s motto of getting under someone to get over someone won’t work for me but I’m hoping that meeting other guys will bring some relief and maybe I’ll meet someone nice. Someone who can make me stop dreaming of Layton’s kisses and caresses. Someone who will wipe away the memory of his mischievous smile and carefree laughter.

  Fuck, I’m doing it again. Anyway, I talked to Zara’s friend, Miles, a few times and finally took him up on his offer of dinner and a movie.

  “It’s not like I’m going to sleep with him,” I assure Remee. “It’s just dinner and a movie to get to know each other a little.”

  “Where did you meet this guy, again?” Serena asks Zara.

  “He’s in my women’s studies group. He even comes to the women’s rights meetings and is planning to march with us.”

  Serena leans against my dresser. “If he’s so great, why don’t you go out with him?”

  Zara rolls her eyes. “Because I don’t want or need a man. We’ve been over this.”

  Remee sits cross legged on the end of my bed. “You don’t want a husband someday?”

  “No, husbands are like algebra. Everyone says you’ll need one later in life, but it’s bullshit.”

  A knock on the door puts an end to the husband debate. I’m surprised that I’m not more nervous about this. Every time I was near Layton, especially in the beginning, I had a stomach full of rabid moths. Now, not even a flutter. Maybe because I’m not concerned over whether this works out or anything. I’m just…trying something new.

  A cute guy with short dark hair and brown eyes grins at me when I open the door. “Hi,” he says. Before I can answer, he adds, “Are you ready?” He glances back at the parking lot. “In this neighborhood, I don’t want to leave my car long.”

  Okay.

  “Yeah, let’s go.” It’s not immediately clear which car is his because the way he was talking I figured he must have something expensive, maybe a sports car. I have to swallow a reaction when he leads me to a ten year old sedan. Really? He didn’t want to leave a Camry parked in front of my house?

  We get in his car—which smells a little like stale corn chips—and he starts to back out. My scooter is in the next spot, and he shakes his head with a snort. “Look at that bright, horrible thing. Who would want to drive something like that? Although, I guess this is a poor neighborhood.”

  Less than five minutes with this guy and I already know it’s a mistake. “It’s my scooter,” I reply.

  “Oh, sorry.” There’s not an ounce of sorry in his tone. “I guess it’s okay for a girl if that’s the kind of thing you like.”

  “Great. So glad I have your approval. I was worried.” My sarcasm goes right over his head, and he flashes a smile at me.

  “No worries, babe. I’m not one of those sexist assholes. Girls can do what they want. I’m all about equality. You don’t have to worry about me trying any of that fake chivalrous crap.”

  The night doesn’t improve. The restaurant he chooses is an expensive steakhouse that’s way out of my budget. I don’t believe that the man always has to pay but when he orders an expensive steak, two drinks, and dessert while I have a Caesar salad, then tries to get me to split the check evenly, I almost lose my temper.

  “Like I said, I’m not one of those Neanderthal sexists. I know women can support themselves and pay for their own food.”

  And his too, apparently. No way is my bank account taking a hit from this guy. I smile at the waitress when she returns and hand her the check. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but can you split this, please? I had the salad and soft drink.”

  “Of course.”

  It doesn’t get any better. I’m regaled with his life story, all the wonderful things he’s done and his long term life plans. He never asks me anything about myself or let’s me get a word in. I’ve never been so glad to get to a theater as I am when we finally make it there. At least he’ll have to shut up.

  At this point, I probably should just tell him I’d rather go home and end it, but I don’t want to be rude. I can sit through a movie, especially because it’s one I’d like to see, not that I had any say.

  For the first hour or so, things are fine. We both bought our own popcorn and drinks, and he stays quiet as we munch on our snacks and watch the movie. He lays his hand on my knee, and I ignore it. I’m going to finish the movie, have him take me home, and chalk this up as a learning experience. People can be way different over messaging than in real life.

  I make the mistake of glancing at him, and he grabs the opportunity to slam his lips to mine. Before I can back away, his tongue is already shoved in my mouth.

  Gross. He’s lucky I don’t bite it off. I shove him away and hiss, “Stop it!”

  He just grins and shrugs. “Not into PDA?”

  “I’m not into guys I barely know shoving their tongue down my throat!”

  Cries of “Shhh!” come from multiple people around us, but he just shrugs.

  “Your loss, babe.”

  I get up, thankful I have an aisle seat, and he asks, “Where are you going?”

  “Concessions.”

  His empty popcorn container is shoved into my hand. “Great, grab me another popcorn. I don’t want to miss this.”

  Fuming, I’m sorry my soft drink cup is empty, and I can’t dump it over his head. I don’t want to disturb anyone else, so I stalk up the aisle and out into the light of the hall. My trash and his empty popcorn bucket get tossed in the trash can. Does he seriously think I was going to go buy him a refill? I’m tempted to get a Rideshare or call one of the girls to come and get me. Just bail on him like he deserves. There’s only a few minutes left of the movie and I know none of them would get here before then. Besides, I’m not afraid of him or in danger. He’s just a self-centered prick.

  There’s a text on my phone from Zara when I unmute it.

  Zara: How is it going?

  Her words are followed by little heart emojis.

  Me: Be hoe soon.

  Shit, unfortunate typo.

  Me: Home soon.

  Zara: Be a ho. It’s fine.

  She has no idea. I wouldn’t fuck this guy with a borrowed vagina.

  The movie lets out, and Miles saunters out with the last of them. He spots me waiting on the bench and flashes a smile. “Ready, babe?” he asks, as if he thinks everything is fine.

  The ride back is short but interminable. We’re right around the corner from my place when he glances over at me, his eyebrow cocked. “So, should I stop and get some condoms?”

  Is…is he serious?

  “I forgot to stop before I picked you up.” He shrugs at my incredulous look.

  “No.” It’s the only word I manage, and his response is another shrug.

  “Maybe next time.”

  We pull up at my house, and he starts to open his door.

  “You don’t have to get out. I’m good,” I blurt and make a beeline for the front door. As I’m unlocking it, I hear him pull away. Worst date ever.

  The girls are in my room about three seconds after I enter. “Well? What do you think of him?” Zara asks, and as much as I hate to kill the hope in her voice, I’m going to be honest.


  “If you ever know you have one hour left to live, spend it with him because every second was a fucking eternity.”

  Serena snorts out a laugh. “It can’t have been that bad.”

  “What happened?” Zara asks.

  “Well, let’s see.” I kick off my shoes and sit on the edge of my bed, tallying on my fingers. “First, he insulted my scooter and said it was horrible and the owner must be poor. Then, he took me to an expensive restaurant where he tried to get me to pay for half his order as well as mine. You know, because only a sexist asshole pays for a woman.”

  Serena covers a laugh, and I go on.

  “He talked about himself all night and never asked me one question. At the movies, he shoved his tongue down my throat, then told me it was my loss when I got angry.” They stare at me with stunned expressions as I let my hair down out of a ponytail.

  “Oh, yeah, and on the way home, he asked if he needed to stop for condoms. He probably would’ve expected me to buy them too.”

  The sight of all them gaping at me turns my frustration to amusement. When I laugh, they join me one by one, until we’re all just cracking up in my bedroom.

  “I’m so sorry,” Zara says between giggles. “He always seems so nice at school.”

  “Grade-A fuckboy douche,” Serena says. “I never want to hear you judge my taste in guys again, Zara.”

  Falling back on my bed, I sigh. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to date. It’s exhausting.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Layton

  Before Kelly, my Friday nights were about poker with the guys, usually at Travis’s house. Travis’s wife, Diane, likes to take pity on me and Dalton and have us over for a home cooked meal occasionally, then we head downstairs to Travis’s man cave.