Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Cassius
“Where did you go?” Abe, the closest thing I have to a friend, hisses as I step off the elevator into the main room. “I was about to call security.”
I roll my eyes and grab his arm, pulling him toward the parking lot. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get to the car.”
We hurry out of the club and into the cold air, moving toward the parking lot where we jump into his beat-up pick up that runs only half the time.
“Okay, tell me,” he urges.
“No, not here.” I look around, not wanting him to see me. It’s embarrassing. “Hurry up,” I say. “Let’s go.” I tap the dash.
Abe lets out a frustrated sound but shoves the key into the ignition to start it. The truck backfires as we take off, the vents blasting out cool air, and I lean further into the seat to hide from watching eyes.
“You can get up now,” he says a few moments later, sounding annoyed.
I sit up, looking out the window to see the highway.
“I get this isn’t the best looking vehicle, but Lord, Cass, you could at least pretend it’s not the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever seen.”
“I’m sorry, I, uh… I met him.”
“You what?” he barks. The car swerves and I grab onto the oh, shit handle to hold on for dear life. Abe straightens the car out, and I glare at him before answering.
“I’d rather not die tonight, so can you pay attention to the road? It’s icy as hell.”
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I got excited.”
“I found him,” I finally say. “Well, he found me. That’s why I disappeared.”
“And? What is it? What does he want you to do? Oh, is he hot? Please tell me he’s hot!”
“Oh, he’s hot,” I say, recalling everything about him. The sharp features, the dark gaze, the strong and defined chin… yeah, he’s hot as hell.
“Like David Duchovny?”
“David Duchovny?!” I screech.
“Ugh, don’t judge, Cass. We all have our thing.”
I take a breath, then say, “No, he doesn’t look like David fucking Duchovny, Abe. He looks like… an intense version of Michael Fassbender.”
“Jesus, Cass, I don’t know who the fuck that is.”
“Haven’t you ever seen X-men?”
“Is that the one with the tree man and the raccoon who says he’s not a raccoon?”
I glare at him. “How are we friends?”
“Well, that’s rude.”
I’m not sure I should tell Abe what it is that this man wants.
He told me not to look it up online because of misinformation, and I’m sure Abe will give me the same thing.
He pretends to know a lot about a lot of things, but he’s talking out of his ass.
A lot of people in the trailer park do it to make themselves feel better…
“I don’t know about the other stuff, like what he wants,” I say, feeling bad for lying to Abe.
He’s my friend—the only friend I have. I wouldn’t put us at “best friend” status, because we’re more like friends with benefits, I guess, but we’re both bottoms so sometimes we end up jerking each other off while looking at hot guys we wish would top us.
Though, it’s been a while since we did that…
He moved into the trailer park a few years ago, and we ran into each other a few times while taking out the trash or going into the office to complain about something.
Things kind of just… happened. We were both hoping for more of a consistent hook up to take our minds off our shitty lives, but it didn’t work out so smoothly and we ended up being friends, which is fine by me. Sex is overrated.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“He gave me his card and told me to call him tomorrow.”
“That’s it?” he screeches. “I nearly had a heart attack thinking someone kidnapped you, all to get a business card?”
“Relax, drama queen. I’ll call him tomorrow and get more info.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You wouldn’t have come with me otherwise.”
“You’re right, because I didn’t even get the drink you promised me.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have spent so much time in the bathroom,” I argue.
“Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go.”
“Then don’t blame me for your vindictive stomach.”
Abe puts the volume up on the radio, and we don’t speak for the rest of the ride. He drops me off in front of my trailer that is darker than it should be. I sigh as I get out.
“Off again?” he asks through the open window.
“Looks like it,” I mutter.
This entire park is shit. Everyone who lives here is struggling, but some are struggling worse than others.
Abe stays here because it’s the only place he and his dad can afford.
His roof leaks too, and sometimes the AC doesn’t work, but at least his electricity works, there is food in the house, his dad contributes with the bills and isn’t a complete piece of shit.
Oh, and he has a truck when most people here don't have any sort of motorized vehicle. So, he’s basically the golden boy of Oak Hills Trailer Park.
Abe waits long enough for me to get into the house after fighting with the door for five minutes. It gets stuck, but if you push too hard, it falls right off the hinges.
He doesn’t wait because he wants to make sure I get in, it’s because his headlights allow me to step over the holes in the porch, so I don’t fall through and get a splinter through my leg. Yes, it’s happened. No, I don’t ever want it to happen again, and I also don’t want to talk about it.
“Cass?” Cammy calls out from the bedroom.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
I step into the smallest living room known to man and carefully make my way to the left, where me and my two sisters share a bedroom. I don’t remember a time when it was only my room.
Cammy and I have no idea who our fathers are, but Chrissy’s hung around for a while—on and off and with conditions.
When he was alive, we had more income, which didn’t mean much to us since our mother took it and did what she wanted with it.
Though, every now and then, when they’d fight, George would hand me a twenty and tell me to go get some food to hide in our room.
It was great until Mom found it one day and beat the shit out of me for lying to her and hiding money.
She told me I better not be selling drugs behind her back. I was nine.
Our “room” has enough space between bunks for two of us to stand and turn around.
The girls use the right side bunks, Chrissy on the bottom since it’s safer because of the seizures.
I also sleep on the bottom, because there’s more space on the top to store our stuff—which are piles of clothes since we don’t have belongings of any kind because they all get taken and sold or traded.
Both sets of bunks have drawers on the bottom, and there is a wall of drawers between the foot-end of the bunks—a basic trailer set up. It would be convenient for a toddler, but most of the drawers are too small to hold our clothes, so they’re only used for underwear and socks.
“Chrissy sleeping?” I ask.
“No,” she says, causing Cammy to laugh.
“So, where did you go?” Cammy asks, turning on her side to face me.
I pull my shirt off and my jeans, tossing them aside before climbing into bed.
The sheets smell like sweat, and I should wash them, but there isn’t a laundromat in walking distance, and we don’t have a car.
Plus, we don’t have any fucking money. If they get bad enough, I’ll wash them in the tub and dry them with the blow dryer—wait, never mind.
No, I won’t because the fucking electricity isn’t working again.
Cammy works at a laundromat, and they let her do one load a week, but we use that for our clothes since we don’t have enough to last us longer than that.
This all makes me feel worse about going out tonight and to the bar the other night.
But if I can figure this out, if this turns into something—
I can’t get ahead of myself. Getting my hopes up will only make me feel worse later, if this doesn’t pan out.
One day at a time. That’s all I can do. And if this doesn’t work, I’ll figure something else out. We still have a few days.
“To a party with Abe,” I say, hating how I’m lying for the second time tonight. I’m not a liar, but I’m sure doing a lot of lying lately. “Did you get the med stuff straightened out?” I ask.
“No,” Cammy says with a sigh. “They told me there is nothing they can do, and the only way we will get anything is if we pay for it out of pocket.”
Chrissy adds, “I even called the doctor’s office, and thought they would be sympathetic…”
“They can’t do anything,” I add, running my hand through my hair. “How much is it?”
“About seven hundred for a month’s supply.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. That’s a lot of money. More than our rent and we can hardly afford that. But if it comes to it, Chrissy’s meds come first.
“They said they can give it to us in smaller amounts,” Chrissy adds softly.
“Don’t do that, Chrissy. Please, don’t feel guilty over this. It’s not your fault,” I say.
“If my brain would—”
“No,” I say firmly. “Stop. We will figure this out. It’ll be fine.”
“I was thinking I could take half—”
“No,” Cammy and I say firmly at the same time.
I know Chrissy feels bad, like she’s a burden, but she’s our sister and it doesn’t matter what we have to do. We will make sure she gets that medicine. Especially since our mother couldn’t give two flying fucks. All we have is each other. All Chrissy has is us.
“The only downside to getting them in smaller amounts is they cost more,” Chrissy adds. “Which is stupid, but I guess I understand.”
“Have you seen the witch?” I ask.
“Nope,” Cammy says. “Haven’t seen her in two days.”
“I haven’t seen her in three,” Chrissy adds.
“I think it’s been a week.”
“Lucky you,” Cammy says.
“Maybe she won’t come back this time,” Chrissy says, and neither of us responds.