by Mj Fields
“What about the kids in the same boat as you were? You don’t give a fuck about them?”
“Learned a long time ago, if you’re on the take and get used to it, and don’t try to better your situation, you’ll always be on the take. Let’s hope some of them learned from the example I set by busting my ass to get where I’m going, and I’m not looking back. And heads up, you’re all on the take too, and will be the rest of your lives with your attitudes. Same shoes, just a different designer.”
“You doing with Truth Steel now?” Kai huffs.
“That’s none of your fucking business.”
“The minute you leave town, she’ll forget all about you,” Miles taunts.
“If that’s true, then it wasn’t meant to be. But heads-up, none of us are good enough for her.” I turn and start my truck.
“How did it feel to watch me stick my tongue down her throat at the fight? To see her pushing my hand up her fucking shirt at the lake?”
Fucker is trying to antagonize me. And had he pulled that shit a day or two ago, it would have worked.
“Felt like shit knowing she was letting you touch her, wishing you were me. Won’t happen again.”
“Enjoy the rest of your senior year, Easton.” Harrison smirks. “Just remember when the pussy’s away, the mice will play.”
“Not all too worried about the three of you when there are seven of them, and one of them hits harder than you ever did.”
I pull out and head home, planning to shoot Truth a text and sleep for about twelve hours.
Rolling up in front of my place, I see a new Rover parked out front. Instead of parking in the garage, I pull up and park behind it.
When I get out, the driver’s side door opens, and I see Tara Steel step out. I immediately worry something happened to Truth in the last twenty minutes.
“Truth okay?”
She smiles and nods as she pushes her sunglasses on top of her head. “She’s heading to the doctor with her dad to see how she’s healing and hoping to get rid of the boot.”
I nod. “I bet she’ll be happy to lose that.”
She looks down and mumbles something to herself.
“Did you need something, Mrs. Steel?”
She nods and looks up. “I wanted to ask a favor of you, actually.”
“I’ll do my best to help you out.”
“Well, you see, I have some issues.” She shakes her head. “I see a therapist once a week.”
“Because of Tony?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. It was never something that I worried about. Not since Cyrus. But now—”
My chest burns. “Now that I’m—”
“No, not really.” She blows a breath and looks at me. “Do you think maybe you could attend a session with me?”
Never went to a fucking shrink, unless you count a court-appointed anger management class. But being asked to go to one with a woman who has some issues no doubt brought on by your own father, regardless that you didn’t know him until recently … If you’re falling for her daughter, the right thing would be to go, but I don’t fucking want to.
“Just an hour,” she says as if she heard my thoughts.
“Yeah, sure. I guess I could do that.”
Walking out of the therapist’s office an hour and a half, not an hour, later, I do so with appreciation that I didn’t have ten minutes into the “session.”
“Are you upset with me?” she asks as she pulls her keys out with a swiftness her daughter does not share. In Truth’s defense, she lugs around a bag, while Tara has a tiny purse with several compartments, and each seems to have a specific use.
“No, I’m not.”
“I just didn’t know how to explain it. I didn’t want you to think that I felt like I was blameless and maybe harbored resentment toward you, and it ruin something that could be beautiful for you and my daughter.” She looks up at me. “Your friend, Gabrielle, spoke kindly of you, and Truth was both blessed and cursed by her name. I’ve never seen her this way.”
She hands me her keys. “Do you mind driving?”
“Sure.” I take the keys to a vehicle worth more than I’ll make first year out of college and shake my head as I step toward the vehicle.
She clears her throat, and I look at her. “Mind getting my door?”
Jesus Christ, I scold myself.
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
Driving down the road, my palms are sweating, and I feel exactly like I did when I went to court the four times I have in my life.
When the phone rings, I glance over at her and see her smile as the dash lights up with CYRUS.
She answers it.
“How was your appointment?” he asks.
“Good. I’m not too far from home.”
“That’s good. Our little birdie gave the boot a boot, so we’re having a dance party tonight.”
“Oh no, we aren’t.” Truth laughs.
“Bullshit, you got no excuses anymore,” Cyrus snaps at her. “And as much as I like that chick’s dune buggy, I wanna see you kick her ass for the lead in the next show.”
“Maybe I don’t wanna dance anymore.”
“Yeah, right,” he huffs.
“No, maybe I wanna go to college at a real school.”
“Yeah, for what?”
“Not sure yet. I still have time. Haven’t looked into what programs Columbia has to offer,” she says, and I can’t help but smile.
“I’m not paying for you to go study boys, Truth.”
“Don’t plan on studying boys. I plan on studying a man.”
I can’t help but smile bigger now.
“You think so?” he huffs. “You think I’m paying sixty Gs a year for you to chase ass, you got another thing coming.”
“Um, Cyrus …” Tara tries to interrupt.
“You like him”—Truth giggles—“and it pisses you off.”
“You sure you want a boy who pisses his pants?”
“He doesn’t piss his pants.” She laughs like she’s got a secret, and I hope to fuck her dad doesn’t call her on it.
“Guys …” Tara again tries to interrupt.
“Look, I’ll make you a deal. You start dancing again, and if you hate it, we’ll discuss Columbia.”
“I’m not dancing right now, and we’re discussing it, so—”
“Not anymore.” Cyrus laughs. “Tara, dance party tonight.”
“No freaking way,” Truth groans.
“Dance party, and I might shave some time off you being grounded till you’re thirty.”
She doesn’t say a thing.
“See you at home, Birdie”—he chuckles—“for a dance party, right, Truth?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she concedes.
“See you at home.” Tara laughs and ends the call as I roll to a stop light.
She giggles nervously as she looks at me and says, “Myself, Kiki’s mom, Carly, and Brisa’s mom, Bekah, all came from small families, so it was a lot to get used to.”
“I can see that.”
“And for me, after living in home after home since I was five, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to it.”
During her session, I found out her parents had passed away in a car accident where she was the only survivor, causing her to have some issues that she still struggles with to this day. OCD, anxiety, fear of loss, all were brought up in her session. All led to her clinging to someone who had his own set of issues—mainly drugs—and accepting his abuse because she thought it was better than being alone, until she met Cyrus, who was controlling, as well, but in a very different way, a way that was freeing and made her feel safe.
I knew why she wanted me there, and it wasn’t just because she wanted me to be open to the idea of counseling so that I could lead a full life and someday be the man that Truth deserves. I’m sure she and her mother discussed my reservations and, although somewhat embarrassing, I was glad Truth had someone to talk to about it if she didn’t think she could talk to me.
Honestly, I’ve given her every reason to believe that, because I’m just not there yet. But that hour and a half was her way of showing me a direction, and I appreciate it. I also appreciate that Tara truly wants me to accept the fact that she doesn’t hold any resentment toward me, which I know will take some time to accept.
“It’s sometimes intimidating, because they seem to have it all together, but they’re not without struggles. They just have such a strong belief that they can get through anything, and they’ve actually done so.”
She smiles. “Truth sees that good and the strength in you. She’s so taken with you, and I just don’t want you to spend any more time convincing yourself you’re not all those things. Cyrus did that to me. He pushed me away, and it hurt us both for a long time.
“Maybe someday you’ll show me pictures of your mom, and maybe it’ll spark a memory, but right now, I bet she is so proud to see you continuing to do what she did—break a cycle. And even though Truth is one-third of my heart, I want you to know that I see you through my own eyes clearly, Tobias, and I’m proud of you. I am so extremely proud of you for everything you’ve done to survive, everything I’ve learned you have accomplished based on pure determination and the way that you have tried to protect my daughter.”
It’s been years since anyone told me that they were proud of me, and here sits a woman who I’ve known for only a few days, someone who could have easily put me in a box because of my DNA, and I wouldn’t have blamed her. She could have shunned me because of my circumstance, but she fucking didn’t.
My chest and eyes immediately heat; my throat burns and tightens at her words.
“I truly hope that you’re here for a very long time. I truly hope you and she can make each other as happy as her father and I are.”
I clear my throat and whisper, “Thanks.”
“Have dinner with us tonight?”
“Wouldn’t want to imp—”
“From experience, I’m telling you, the easiest way to deal with this family is to jump in with both feet and enjoy the ride.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
Tobias
A week ago, I held her tight, knowing I was letting her go. I had to. No way I could hold back who I was and love on a girl whose fucking name was Truth while drowning in lies. It wasn’t an option, so I did the right thing.
Who would have thought the son of a druggy and an ex-stripper would have a kid who did the right thing?
I laugh to myself at the thought.
But the answer makes my heart smile and ache at the same time. It’s the fact that I know at the core who I am—a survivor, a weary dreamer of a better future. It was instilled in me by a woman whose name was and always will be Hope.
I’m no longer counting the months until I’m out of here, because as much bullshit as I’ve dealt with in my life, I no longer want to run as far away from it so I can start over. My original plan was to go to college on the other side of the country, leaving the East Coast and heading to the West Coast. UCLA was the dream, but my guidance counselor pushed me to apply to more schools, so I did. I was accepted to UCLA, but Columbia offered me a full ride. I knew I had to take that gift from the Universe, or God, or Mom … with wings, so I did so begrudgingly, knowing I’d only be an hour and a half from the place I had dreamed about leaving. Fully equipped with a lifelong ability to not form attachments, I knew I could leave here and never look back. My plan was always to sell the house.
Now I am happy I was too damn busy surviving to clean out the garage and didn’t put it on the market yet. I can still rent out my place, but not for parties anymore, and have that extra cash flow to take Truth on proper dates and shit.
I smile as I brush my teeth at the memory of Mom burning the midnight oil, sometimes literally, because food was more important than the light bill as she worked her ass off at mediocre jobs to get her degree. Her one goal was to finally take me on a vacation of my choice, and my choice was the beach.
We would lay in my bed at night, dreaming out loud about all the beaches we would travel to when she had saved enough money. Then she got a real job, and that, on top of her Reserves requirements, left little time to actually do that. But it gave us a new dream. One week a year, just her and me on a beach, building sandcastles and flying kites, like all the kids did around here.
Frank was the one who had told her about the little place that eventually became our home, and I remember her asking if I would rather go to California to see the ocean or have a house where we could wake up every day, open the door, and have it just a few feet away.
Being a kid, of course I was bummed we weren’t going to fly across the country on a plane and see a different ocean, but the excitement grew at the overheard conversations that she would share with Frank about having a place, roots, for her and her Toby.
Every morning, I ate my cereal on the front porch, looking at the water, sometimes with Mom, sometimes by myself. But every weekend, we built a sandcastle and flew kites, even if it was only for an hour. Those are my favorite memories with her.
She would have loved Truth and her family as much as I do, and although I still need my space, I’m realizing every day that I need it less than I’ve let myself believe.
My first introduction to her family, as a whole, after the big reveal, after the surprise counseling session, was dinner and a “dance party,” which I learned was them all just making homemade pizza to go with the wings that Cyrus brought home while dancing around. Truth held back. I knew this because her father picked on her about it.
I was invited every night, but I forced myself to only accept every other and avoided “Steel Sunday” like the plague.
But every night, no matter if I was there or not, Truth and I talked about everything under the sun until one of us fell asleep. I knew everything about her family, and the fact they didn’t always have money, even though they could have if Momma Joe, her grandmother, hadn’t walked away from her family’s fortune, for love.
She was half asleep when she whispered, ‘I’m so glad I didn’t have to do that.’
The implication of what she’d murmured, blew my mind.
She knew my shit, too. Even my record for assault and battery that was sealed by the courts and covered up by the school, because Frank had shit on the principal whose kid I lost it on. And the possession charge when I was trying to make bank to get out from under Frank’s thumb. She knows that Miles, Harrison, and Kai know about it, too, and have been holding it and threatening to hand it over to Columbia’s administration if I didn’t keep the fight circuit going.
I also told her about something they suspect I have, something of an urban legend amongst the elite, something coveted by them all. She guessed control over The Sound app, and although I do hold the figurative power button, so to speak, that’s not it in its entirety. She busted my ass about not killing the stories of her and her cousin, and I flat-out told her that it was a dick move, but if I couldn’t have her, I was going to make sure no one else did. But that wasn’t all the “Four Horsemen,” as she calls us, are whispered to have control over, and I told her that, when the time came, I would tell her what it was that I have, but not until I figure out what I’m going to do with it. She was chill about it, which made me realize she really did fucking trust me.
What I hold supersedes The Sound. What I have is documentation over hundreds of years that could break any student, their families, or the faculty of Seashore. I have access to all their secrets.
My plan is, and was, to destroy it after graduation, but Harrison, who truly believes it will be his—spoiler alert: it never will be—has used it against me that I am responsible to those who work the circuit so damn much lately that now I’m not sure I’ll destroy it at all. Add to that, Truth and her crew may need it, and this kind of seals the deal, that I just need to find the right hands to place that kind of information in.
Other than Harrison and his crew looming in the corners, school’s the same as it was that first day,
but whispers about her and me keep flying around the halls. I managed to keep us off The Sound, but I don’t plan on doing so for much longer.
We are entering the fourth grade relationship phase, which is now a running joke but also gives me some peace of mind knowing I’ll be doing right by her by easing into this. And, truth be told, I want her to fall head up her amazing ass in love with me, so much so that all she sees is me when she blinks or closes her eyes, like I do her since the first time saw her at Frank’s. I want her so blinded by me that she laughs in the faces of fuckers at Seashore who are smiling in my face but frothing at the mouth while they wait to replace me and take my girl when I’m gone.
Tonight, she and I are going on our first date, which I’m pretty damn sure will end up in the hottest sexual experience … without actual sex.
I lost my virginity in sixth grade. Surely I can hold out for another two weeks, right?
She’s wearing black ballet-like shoes and dressed in a red skater dress when she comes out of her house, like the black one she wore the night she rode my lap in the dark. Her hair is all loose curls and not tied up on her head like it is at school most of the time.
As she walks toward me, smiling, because she knows she looks amazing, my entire body begins to slowly burn. As amazing as that dress is on her, the confidence she carries makes her so fucking sexy.
Take it back a step, I remind myself.
I reach back in the truck and pull out the flowers that will now be the kind she gets from me forever and walk toward her, seeing the door open behind her as Cyrus then Tara step out onto the wraparound porch.
She stops and grins as I hold them out to her and she takes them.
She puts them under her nose and inhales. “Thank you. They smell beautiful.” She looks down at them, and I watch her expression change as she crinkles up her nose and smiles.
“You like them?” I ask.
“I’ve never seen anything like these.”
“Wasn’t about to give you roses, for obvious reasons, and then I decided a once in a lifetime girl deserves a signature flower. Took a couple days—nothing screamed Truth to me—and then I saw these.”
