Chapter 29 Hotel Living
Hotel Living
Aurora
Igulp so hard I think I strained my throat as I stand in front of a small house in the Back Bay of Salt Port. I always imagined my mother in a castle in the wilderness, not in the home I grew up in. I remember this house.
Seeing it now, I realize this was his home first. We must have lived in it together at one point. I was little when we lived in this house. Mom and I moved to an apartment downtown with other omegas when I was in school. We lived there until my father came to get me.
But I remember this house. A brownstone on a quiet street. There’s a small bedroom in the back where I spent a lot of time alone.
Legs is in the hospital fighting for his life.
Carmen and Sauvignon found him with the tiger. They got the handlers and took Legs to the hospital. I took a hammer to the lock on my nest so I could sleep there. When I woke up, I searched his phone to find out where he’s been keeping my mom.
Here.
It took me a couple of days to get the courage to come.
I take a deep breath, open the wrought-iron fence, walk up the stone steps, and knock on the thick wood door.
I turn and watch the neighborhood while I wait for her to come to the door. It’s quiet. The old trees don’t even move in the wind. A shiver runs up my spine.
A big cat rescue got that fucking 500-pound animal out of my house right away. They assured me that they wouldn’t let the authorities put him down for tearing open my dad.
Maximus didn’t do anything wrong. He was a caged wild animal, loose in someone’s house.
The wind blows through some wind chimes in the distance, and I realize no one is going to answer the door. I try the handle, and it opens for me. That’s not very safe. The old, dusty house opens up to me. The windows are covered, and the house doesn’t stir.
“Ro Ro?”
I spin around to see Honey standing in the doorway.
I grab my chest.
“Goddamnit, Honey! You scared the fuck out of me. What the hell are you doing here?”
She’s wearing a red overcoat. She has on sensible heels. She doesn’t have her white wig on, but instead is showing off her light brown hair styled in large barrel curls. I hardly ever see her like this, like herself.
She saunters across the hall to me. Her shoes crunch against the dust.
“Your mom’s not here.”
“No, shit,” I mumble.
She runs her gloved hand over the top of the table against the wall.
“When you tried to run, Carmen told your mom. Carmen and Sauvignon would come here along with Liam, Dr. Thompson, and your father. They wanted her to know. She was inspired by your attempt and started planning her own.”
Tears prickle the edges of my eyes.
“Is she ok?”
“Oh my god, yes. Yes. She’s great. She fucking hated this house, that’s why it looks like this. She left only a few weeks ago. She ran away with the Doctor. Doctor Thompson. You know him.”
He’s a handsome alpha with blonde hair and thin lips. Notorious for never speaking. He seemed to fucking hate my dad, but still did what he said.
“They ran away together?”
“Yeah. They were in love. She wrote a letter to you. I have it here.” She slides it onto the table where she wiped off the dust.
“We don’t know where they are, so they’ll be safe. But I think they are going to be very happy together.”
The tears fall this time. I wipe both sides of my cheeks and retrieve the letter. Peter Thompson. That’s his name. I can see him grinding his teeth every time my father spoke to him.
I open and scan the handwritten note. Honey is right. She left with an alpha named Peter Thompson. My father’s personal surgeon. He prescribed me my first birth control. I guess he’s my stepdad now.
Peter Thompson and my mom had an affair. Makes sense. They must have met when she needed medical care a time or two. He has a boat, so I’m guessing the way the note ends cryptically is actually her just saying they are boarding the boat and getting out of dodge.
I suppose this is the best-case scenario. She saved herself. I take a deep breath.
Legs is in a medically induced coma right now. It feels like the world is on pause, waiting for him to live or die.
“How’s he doing?”
“They sewed his guts back in. He’s alive, unfortunately.”
I sigh, which means I breathe in the stale, dusty air and cough.
I fold the note into a tight little packet and put it in my coat pocket.
I spent all day yesterday picking out my outfit to see my mom.
I’m wearing a bright blue, muslin wrap-around skirt and a white bandeau top.
I have a camel colored overcoat. I bought a new bag.
It’s a little black boho bag. My makeup is done.
I woke up early to give myself a blowout.
I thought my mom would want me to stay with her while we wait for him. That’s not going to happen. That was a girlish fantasy.
I leave Honey in the front room, and I walk through the house. My tall platform shoes don’t give much barrier between me and the wood floors that creak with each step. I go up two flights of stairs until I find my mother’s nest.
The doors have been removed.
It smells of fear. Fear smells like shit, if you’re wondering. There are flat pillows, threadbare blankets, and a mat on the floor.
My poor mother.
I hope Peter treats her well. The way she described him in her note makes me think he will take good care of her. I wouldn’t want the woman I loved to be in the place for one second longer either. Good on you, Peter.
I make my way to my childhood bedroom and find it cleaned out. It’s just a guest room.
I leave, Honey at my side, not locking the door behind me, but being sure to give the brownstone two middle fingers on my way out the gate.
It takes two weeks for my father to die.
There was a moment there where the doctors were talking about him coming home, and then an hour later, I got the call that his liver failed and his heart gave out.
Peace settled over my entire life at the news. I didn’t even have a chance to feel guilty, because I was trying to understand the peace. It was like his death created a vacuum, and that space was quickly filled with peace. Like it had been waiting to come in this whole time.
Even before he died, I spent most of my time dismantling the pack house. I’ve sent most of the alphas away and started selling off his expensive items. Clocks. Furniture. Paintings. Old world trinkets. I’ve taken down cages and scrapped them for cash.
It’s a good thing he died. Otherwise, I’d have to answer for it.
Pack Star is with me all the time, but I tell them they need to leave. Find jobs. There’s nothing here for them.
I don’t touch them anymore.
Reluctantly, Carmen agrees to leave.
After my father dies, I close up the pack house entirely.
I get a room at a hotel, buy a laptop, and spend a lot of time just sitting with myself, with no one watching me. I watched different shows. I listened to music I had never listened to before. I cover myself in descenter spray and go for long walks.
Tonight I ordered in some fried plantains with rice and peas, and eat it on the second queen bed in my room, the one I don’t use to sleep on.
I just bought a new athletic set—navy blue leggings with a periwinkle mesh wrap-around top, so I’m feeling really good.
I fire up my laptop and begin the search.
I’ve always wanted to go to hair school.
I brought it up only once to my father, who immediately disparaged the career. Of course, he’d think that. But I have big plans. I want to have my own salon one day. I want to make it an oasis for women to come and relax. I want it to have a sense of community.
I’ve researched it before, but got overwhelmed. There are a lot of hair schools here in Salt Port. But their websites don’t give any real info about being an omega and what they think about that. Every site has the same legal jargon for designation accommodations. But it doesn’t feel like enough.
I go into heat every few months.
I’m a nuisance to alphas if I perfume.
I have sensitive skin.
As I search through the schools, I get the same feeling that they will expect me to pretend I’m not an omega.
There are suppressant pills to prevent heats, but they don’t have a 100% success rate.
I’m about to give up again, but I get a stray thought. Before I second-guess myself, I search hair schools in Cash City. It makes sense to look there. They have the highest omega population. Things are highly regulated.
There’s one that keeps coming up. It’s owned by a male omega.
The principal is a female omega. They only use hypoallergenic chemicals.
The students learn at their own pace. Once you pay tuition, you can go at your own pace for years to be certified.
There are even business courses. I lay on my stomach and read through the reviews.
Mostly current and former students saying how much they loved it.
And then I look through the photos. Marble floors and walls. Gold chandeliers. Smiling, happy students surrounding an instructor with cool blue hair, demonstrating on a model.
I could see myself there.
A wave of homesickness starts at my feet and goes up to my head, making me dizzy. I don’t know how else to describe this feeling other than homesickness. It’s not for a home, it’s for Locke and Mads.
It used to take most of my days and nights. Now I’m able to go much longer between my homesickness spells.
Guess I’m out of time. I grab some pillows and blankets and go into the bathroom, closing the door, but don’t turn on the light, punishing myself with the blackness. I curl up in the dry bathtub. The mark on my back aches. It’s not painful. But it does draw all my attention.
This may be easier if I were willing to let him go.
I think about sinking my own small omega teeth into Mads’s arm. I hope it made us closer, like a real alpha bond. I hope he has a scar. I think about how Locke and I got to celebrate our birthdays together, but it will probably be the last one.
What a fucking bullshit situation.
Maybe I just need to meet more guys. Maybe only meeting criminals who work with my dad wasn’t the best exposure.
Maybe if I meet more regular nice guys, the desire for Locke and Mads will lessen.