by Jessie Evans
“Yeah. I about peed my pants when he started yelling. Scared me half to death.” I clutch the bag of money in my lap, drawing strength from the hard lumps inside. It’s full of tightly rolled one hundred dollar bills, at least thirty or forty thousand dollars, earned by the abuse of Grant Harrison’s daughter, Cathy, when she was a little girl.
Back in the early two thousands, Harrison made kiddie porn featuring his underage daughter and sold it on an underground website, making a mint before he was caught. All of his assets were seized by the federal government, but his daughter insisted there was more money, that her father had hidden it away somewhere. Cathy hired Gabe’s dad to sue her father, but overdosed before the case could go to trial, losing a lifelong battle with drugs and addiction that started when she was ten years old, when her father used to roll her a joint to help her relax before he filmed her.
Gabe and I read Cathy Harrison’s file yesterday, and only spent a few hours last night researching the job. The file said that Grant’s sister, Marjorie, had leased a storage unit shortly before Grant was convicted. Gabe and I did some digging and learned Marjorie had moved to Florida, but that the storage unit was still in her name and paid up for the next four years. We googled Grant to verify he was still in federal prison, did a drive-by of the storage facility to make sure they didn’t have anyone on duty at night, and swung into Charleston to acquire industrial strength bolt cutters for the lock on the fence before calling our preparation finished.
Since that night at Pitt’s, Gabe and I have hit two private residences, a nursing home, and a medical practice, all without a single hitch. We secured Pitt’s resignation with a blackmail note—ensuring Danny was passed into the eighth grade—did our part to avenge the innocent people hurt by an embezzler, an identity thief, a crooked doctor, and a serial rapist, and have made ourselves a hundred thousand dollars richer in the process.
A hundred, fucking, thousand dollars. After tonight, we’ll be close to one hundred and forty. It’s mind-boggling, more money than I would have earned in four years working my job at the diner, and it’s been so easy.
Maybe too easy. And maybe Gabe and I are getting careless.
“Do you think he got out of prison today?” I ask, breath finally returning to normal. “I mean, I guess that’s possible.”
“It’s more likely there’s another Grant Harrison in federal lock up,” Gabe says, turning onto the highway, heading back toward home. “We should have made sure the one in Edgefield was ours before we hit the storage unit. And I should have been the one to go in, while you kept lookout. You can practice your lock picking when your life isn’t in danger.”
“There was no way we could have known anyone was in there,” I say. “And I got away. I’m faster than I was even a few weeks ago.”
“You’re not faster than a bullet,” Gabe says, sounding grouchier than I’ve ever heard him. “What if Harrison had had a gun?”
My brow furrows. “You weren’t worried about that when we robbed the pawnshop.”
“Things are different now,” Gabe says softly. “We’re different.”
I’m silent for a moment, refusing to acknowledge the way his words make my heart do a giddy flip in my chest. We are different now. Back then, I wasn’t even sure I liked Gabe; now, I can’t imagine my life without him in it. Now, I want to spend every waking minute with him, and go to sleep next to him every night.
Now, I am completely screwed, because even if Gabe loves me the way I think he does, I know he’s serious about this only being for the summer. If he finds out I want more, he’ll leave. He’ll leave and I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold it together all alone now that I know what it feels like to have a partner, someone who makes me feel beautiful and fascinating. Someone who gets every part of me, even the parts that aren’t polished, or pretty, and don’t like to play by the rules.
“I think it’s time to take a break,” he says, his tone as deflated as I’m feeling.
A break doesn’t mean the end, but there’s something in his voice, something that makes my heart feel bruised.
“Okay,” I say, forcing an upbeat note into the word that I don’t feel. “Slowing down isn’t always a bad thing.”
Which reminds me…
“Are you okay?” I turn to face him, studying his profile in the shifting yellow light of the headlights streaming down the other side of the highway. “What was up back there? Did you feel sick, or something?”
“I don’t know,” Gabe says, eyes focused on the road ahead. “I felt all right, but when I tried to run…” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m fine now. I must have gotten overheated standing there sweating my balls off in long sleeves. It’s fucking hot as hell tonight.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to sleep over at the Cooney sweat lodge?” I ask, brushing away a brown curl that’s stuck to his forehead.
A smile flickers on his lips but it’s gone by the time the next pair of headlights sweep across his face. “Not tonight. My parents saw me go up to bed. If I don’t come back down again tomorrow morning, they might notice. The Alexanders occasionally notice each other on Sundays, and they’re my alibi so…”
“Okay,” I say, ignoring the disappointment that flashes in my chest. “But I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he says, passing a battered pickup truck going fifty in the fast lane.
Sunday night burger night in the backyard has become a tradition. The kids look forward to it every week, and so do I. I love seeing Gabe relaxed and happy, playing soccer with the boys, or giving Emmie a ride on his shoulders so she can peek over the fence at our crazy cat lady neighbor’s new kittens. He’s so good with the kids. It makes me wish…
I press my lips together and stare out the window at the dark woods flashing by, banishing the thought before it can find its tail end. It doesn’t matter what I wish. This is only for the summer, and it will be over before I can blink.
We don’t talk much more on the way home, and Gabe doesn’t even try to sneak a peek as I change out of my blacks and into the clothes I was wearing when I left the house. The air in the van is quiet, thick with tension, like the air before a storm, and all too soon Gabe is pulling up in front of my house.
At one in the morning, every window is dark, except for a blue light flickering behind the living room curtains, making me think Isaac must have fallen asleep in front of the television. I told him I was going dancing with Sherry—which I did, for an hour, before I left her flirting with her favorite bartender and slipped out of the club to meet up with Gabe.
I know I should feel bad for lying to one of my best friends, but I don’t. I don’t feel bad about much these days, not lying, or stealing, or any of the other things Gabe and I do on a regular basis. Maybe that means my moral compass is more messed up than I could have imagined before I met Gabe, but I’m still there for the kids when they need me, my stomach is calmer than it’s been since I was a kid, and I’m happy in a brand new way.
This isn’t the “stolen moment” kind of happiness I knew before—snatched between the teeth of one crisis and the next—it’s something that starts deep inside of me and spreads out to envelope every aspect of my life. It’s a seed that was planted and nurtured by this summer with Gabe, and a part of me is terrified that my happiness will wither and die when he leaves in the fall.
But even terror can’t cut as deep when Gabe is sitting next to me.
I lean over to kiss him goodbye, and it is sexy and honest and intense—the way kissing him always is—but he tastes sadder than usual, salty, like a tear.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask after we pull away, running a gentle hand down his face. “Is everything all right?”
He holds my gaze for a beat before smiling a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Everything’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” I echo as Gabe claims the bag of money from the floorboards and w
e slip out of the van, going our separate ways. He starts down the driveway, headed back to where he parked the Beamer a few blocks over, turning to blow me a kiss at the end of the drive. I lift my hand and wave, swallowing all the words that want to come out—like don’t go, and I’ll miss you, and I love you.
I love him. I love him and it is wonderful and horrible and it…is what it is. There’s no changing it, no matter how much it hurts to think of saying goodbye.
But I’m too tired to think any more tonight.
I slip inside the front door, closing it as quietly as I can behind me, expecting to find Isaac passed out and drooling on the couch, but when I turn, he’s sitting up, staring at me with an intensity that makes anxiety skitter across my skin.
He jabs mute on the T.V. remote, and my gut twists, the instinctive feeling that I’ve screwed up hitting before my mind can sort out what I could have done wrong.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, hanging my boho bag on one of the wall hooks inside the door. “Are the kids all right?”
“The kids are fine.” Isaac tosses the remote onto the couch cushions before knotting his thick arms across his chest. “But I’m not sure I can say the same about you.”
I frown as I run a hand through my still sweat-damp hair. “What’s that supposed to mean? I thought you said it was okay if I stayed out. If you wanted me home earlier, you should have just—”
“This isn’t about staying out,” Isaac says. “Your dad came by earlier, right when I was cleaning up dinner.”
I curse beneath my breath as I kick off my shoes and shuffle over to the couch, suddenly even more exhausted than I was before. “I’m sorry.” I collapse next to Isaac with a sigh. “You should have called me. I would have come home and handled it.”
Isaac shifts, staring down at me as I lean back, resting my head on the lumpy cushions. “He wasn’t drunk, Caitlin. He was as sober as I’ve ever seen him, and really fucking upset.”
I pull my knees up, hugging them to my chest. “What about?”
“What do you think?” Isaac asks, sympathetic gaze drilling into mine. But this time I have the feeling I’m not the one he’s feeling sorry for. “He’s a wreck about the law suit, C. He can’t believe you’re really going to take the kids away.”
I grunt. “Can’t believe I’m going to get the state to garnish his VA check for child support is more like it.”
“It’s not like that.” Isaac shakes his head. “Chuck said he’ll sign the house and part of his check over to you and give you full legal guardianship of the kids. He just doesn’t want to go to court and lose his parental rights. He knows the kids are the only good things he ever did with his life. It’s killing him to think of losing them.”
I hug my knees tighter, and my jaw clenches.
“Just call off the suit,” Isaac continues when I don’t respond. “He’ll give you everything you want. You’ll get the stability you need for the kids, he’ll still be their dad on paper, you’ll save a bunch of stress not going to court... Everybody wins.”
“If he cares so much about the kids, how come it took a lawsuit to make him do the right thing?” I ask. “And why should I feel sorry for a man who has done nothing but make my life harder from the moment I was born?”
I drop my feet to the ground, bracing my elbows on my knees and squeezing my hands together in a single fist. “I’m glad he feels like shit. It’s time he had a taste of what it feels like to be helpless and scared.”
“Come on, Cait. This isn’t like you. You don’t take pleasure in other people’s pain, even your dad’s.” Isaac puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing softly, but his touch doesn’t calm me the way it usually does.
I shrug his hand off, and stand, pacing a few steps away from the couch. “I’m sorry I’m disappointing you, but this is how I feel. I don’t care if Chuck is losing his shit. I’m going through with the suit. For the kids.”
“You’re going through with it to get revenge,” Isaac says, looking at me like I’m a stranger who wandered into the living room. “You’re different, C. Ever since you started going out with Gabe. It’s like he’s brought out this…fierce, scary side of you, or something.”
I roll my eyes, not liking how close Isaac is getting to the truth. “Gabe has nothing to do with this. He was nice enough to ask his dad to represent the case for free. That’s it. I’m making decisions on my own.” I cross my arms, shrugging as I drop my eyes to the threadbare carpet. “Besides, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being fierce. Sometimes you need to be fierce to get the job done.”
“Fierce, but not cruel.” Isaac stands, stepping closer until he’s looming over me. “There’s a difference and you know it.”
I shrug again, but the movement is smaller, less confident.
Maybe Isaac is right; maybe I am being cruel.
If Chuck agrees to give me everything I’d get from going to court—except for parental custody—then what do I have to gain from going through with the suit? As legal guardian, I’d have the power to make decisions for the kids, and if the house is in my name, I can call the police and have Chuck carted off if he refuses to leave when I tell him to.
And maybe, if I meet him in the middle, Chuck will remember I did him a solid. Maybe he’ll stay sober more often, and start coming around to spend time with the family, instead of stumbling in drunk, asking for money, and leaving as soon as he gets what he wants.
“And maybe pigs are going to fly,” I mumble to the carpet.
Isaac sighs. “I know you aren’t talking to me, but I understand what you’re feeling. It’s hard to believe that people can change, but it can happen.”
No it can’t. People don’t change. Looking through Gabe’s father’s files has made that clear. People may alter their behavior or evolve in other ways as they age, but folks who are rotten at their cores, stay rotten.
My father is one of the rotten ones, I know that, no matter how much a naïve part of me wants to believe that it’s the alcohol talking every time Chuck calls me a bitch or backhands Danny. The alcohol may fuel the fire, but the damp wood that’s burning and stinking up everything, is all Chuck. And I’m done with Chuck. I don’t have any more empathy left for him, or anyone like him.
I look up, meeting Isaac’s gentle gaze with a hard one. “My mind’s made up. I’m going through with the suit, and I’m going to make sure Chuck has as little authorized contact with the kids as possible. It’s what’s best for them.”
“It’s best for them to never see their dad again?” Isaac asks. “I mean, I know he’s a shit sometimes, but tonight he was great. You should have seen how excited Sean was to see him. That little boy still loves his dad, and wants him in his life.”
“He’ll get over it,” I say, voice cold. “The rest of us have.”
Isaac stares at me, into me, like he’s waiting for me to break and confess I was just kidding. But I’m not kidding. I’m not the same weak, one-step-away-from-disaster girl Isaac’s known since we were kids. I’m in control now. I have the power, and I’m not giving it up without a fight.
“Fine,” he says, shaking his head as he steps back. “But for what it’s worth, I think you’re making a mistake.”
“Noted. Thanks for watching the kids tonight,” I say tightly, eager to see Isaac walking out my door for the first time in my life.
“Yeah, well…I love them.” Isaac props his hands on his hips, glancing down at his feet before meeting my eyes. “I love you, too. I will always love you, but that doesn’t mean I have to love the way you’re acting since you started dating Gabe.”
I sigh. “I need to get to bed, Isaac. I’m tired.”
“He’s bad for you, Caitlin,” Isaac says, stubbornly. “One day you’re going to wake up and realize just how bad. I just hope it’s not too late.”
“Too late for what?” I ask, temper flaring. “To go back to being everyone’s willing little doormat? Because that’s not going to happen, and if that’s the only version
of me you can accept, maybe we shouldn’t hang out so much anymore.”
“We haven’t hung out in weeks.” Isaac’s voice is as hot as mine. “You’re too busy for your friends anymore. All you care about is him.”
“So you’re jealous, is that it?” I snap before I think about what I’m saying.
Isaac blinks, but after a moment, the anger vanishes from his eyes, leaving behind a naked, vulnerable look. “Maybe I am. Maybe I thought…”
I dig my fingers into my upper arms, heart beating faster, shocked and scared and wishing I could rewind time to three minutes ago and run up to bed. I don’t want him to finish his sentence; I silently pray for him to stop talking and walk out the door, but God isn’t answering my prayers tonight any more than He ever has.
“I thought it would be me,” Isaac says, voice thick, rough. “I thought that if you ever decided to make time for someone in that way…it would be me.”
“What about Heather?” I ask, pulse racing in my throat. “You have a girlfriend, Isaac, I never—”
“I’m with Heather because I couldn’t be with you,” he says, making my stomach lurch. “I knew how bad your mom and sister running off fucked you up, and I didn’t think you’d ever let someone into your life in that way. But if I’d thought…if I’d even had a little hope that you—”
“Don’t.” I back a step away, shaking my head fast. “I don’t want to hear it. Just… Let’s pretend this never happened. Just go, and we’ll pretend—”
“I’m tired of pretending,” Isaac says. “And Heather’s tired, too. She knows I’m in love with you. We fought about it that first night you went out with Gabe. Things haven’t been right between us since. She’s going to break up with me, sooner or later, but I’m not going to wait around for it to happen anymore. I’m breaking up with her. Tomorrow. I can’t keep lying to her, or myself.”
I shake my head again. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll think about making a different choice,” Isaac says, hope in his voice that makes me want to stab myself in the ears so I don’t have to hear it, don’t have to realize how stupid I’ve been, or how much I’m going to have to hurt someone I care about.
