Chapter 5
The walk to the car is tense, but it isn’t until the doors are closed that she rips into me.
“You ungrateful little idiot,” she snaps. At the press of a button, the fancy sports car she’s borrowing from a “friend” roars to life.
I’m pretty sure she’s seeing someone, but it can’t be that serious if I haven’t met him. Knowing her it’s because he’s married or just stringing her along. “I thanked you and Roger first. What’s wrong with mentioning Axel? He was my brother, and it was true.”
“Half-brother. He was a fucked up, two-bit criminal, just like your father. If I’d known what kind of trouble that man was, I’d—”
My snort cuts her off.
“Do you have something to say?” The car stops at a red light and she turns, fixing me with a furious glare.
I turn away, staring out the window. “Nope.”
Nobody forced her to have an affair with a married man, and getting pregnant with me wasn’t an accident.
Mom’s just always been bitter that we weren’t enough for him to leave his wife.
He didn’t come live with us until his now-ex found out and kicked him to the curb.
Not that Axel’s mom was a prize. She cut her losses and took off when he was still in middle school.
Maybe that makes her the smartest one out of all of us.
At any rate, it only took a few more turbulent years before Dad did the same, leaving Axel in the tender care of a woman who hated his guts. My mother.
Her nails tap the steering wheel as she thinks.
“Maybe it’s fine. A dead brother makes you sympathetic, and a little tragedy always makes for a more interesting backstory, but it’s critical that you keep yourself marketable right now.
This is the sort of opportunity that could make your career if we keep you in the public eye. ”
“Right, marketable.” My phone buzzes, notifications coming in of people messaging and tagging me in things after the stream. Absent-mindedly, I fire off an, “I’m so glad you’re enjoying the show!” followed by a mess of hearts and smiling devil emojis.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“I’m listening, but you know I’m supposed to interact with fans for at least an hour after the official account posts anything. That’s why you were so mad last night, remember?”
This is one of the parts I like. Mostly. Priest wasn’t totally wrong this morning. There’s a lot of weird stuff that comes in alongside the cute messages. Admitting I’m single seems to have been a big mistake. It’s mostly harmless, but after last night everything feels a little more sinister.
Dickpic. Delete.
Foot request. Delete.
Foot photo. Delete.
Long scrolling DM about how I’m playing into Satan’s clutches by pretending to be one of his minions, along with three different suggestions for churches closest to my actual address. Forward.
“Stop frowning, you’ll give yourself wrinkles. What is it? Anything related to the party?” Mom asks, still sounding annoyed.
“Just the usual. I’m going to Hell for real. They want to marry me. Blah, blah, blah.”
“It means we’re doing something right,” she says with a smug grin. “People are fucked up and everyone is going to want a piece of you now that you’re a celebrity, but it’ll be worth it when we’re out of this god-forsaken town and living the life we were meant to have.”
My fingertips fidget back and forth over the edge of my phone case.
I don’t want to be famous. I never have.
I just want to act and do well enough to afford a normal life.
To buy a car that isn’t from the side of the road with a “For Sale” sign in the window.
A little house maybe. Take a vacation somewhere and order overpriced room service without checking my bank account.
I wish she’d stop acting like I’m going to be an A-list celebrity just because the show went a little viral. We’re streaming on the same service that has a dating show for dogs, and we haven’t even gotten paid yet. By the end of the summer people will probably have moved on to the next big thing.
But all I say is, “I guess so.”
“You guess? I swear to God, I should never have let you go to college. Listen to me, and listen good. You have a golden opportunity right now and we’re not wasting it. Everyone is going to know your name by the end of this.” Coming from her lips, it sounds like a threat.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Stop being so difficult. I’m doing all of this for you, remember. We’re in this together.” She pulls up in front of my apartment building and a valet approaches to open the door for me.
It’s one more expensive thing she arranged without asking, making me completely reliant on both her and the show’s success.
I already hated living here, but up until last night, nobody but the two of us had seen the inside so it didn’t matter how sad my apartment is.
They were right. I’ve been here over a month and I haven’t even bothered moving any of my things from the old place I share with Mom. What’s the point if I can’t stay?
I nod as the valet reaches to open the car. “I know. Are you sure you don’t want to move in here with me? At least then we’d save—”
“No, you need to look the part if we want this to work. Now smile in case anyone’s watching and I’ll see you tomorrow when I pick you up to go see Roger. Make sure to send me a picture of your outfit. You can’t just wear jeans and—”
“I know.” I slam the door and walk away before she can finish.
Clarke opens the door, greeting me as I go inside. “Hey, Ms. Callahan. Glad you’re feeling better. You looked pretty exhausted last night. How’d the interview go? I’m going to watch it later with my daughter.”
It’s creepy to be reminded of my missing memory, but at least I didn’t seem to do anything too embarrassing. “Thanks, it was nothing a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix. I think I did okay today. You’ll have to let me know what Vanessa thinks.”
“Will do!”
As soon as I’m inside the apartment and the door is locked, I kick off my shoes and do a full body shake. Then I let out a little frustrated scream. “Blaaaaaaaah! We’re in this together,” I mock. “I’m doing it all for you. Don’t forget to be marketable.”
I hate how small she makes me feel. How weak and reliant I get when I’m around her even though I’m the one that’s been paying our bills since I was too young to sign my own contracts.
Some days I understand why Dad walked out.
How much easier would life be if I could just not care about the people who love and depend on me?
It would be so simple to pack a bag and just…
leave. Get a new phone number, change my name and start over.
But I can’t do it. I can’t forget what it was like to live in our car that summer when I was thirteen.
I can’t forget how much Roger has done for me. It would kill him if I disappeared.
We might be messed up and co-dependent, but Mom’s probably right. I need to capitalize on my fifteen minutes of fame.
So in the meantime, I’m stuck here, living alone in a mostly empty apartment in one of the only fancy high-rise buildings in town.
Eating peanut butter sandwiches because she cares about me looking the part, but not that I have nothing to cook with and I’m sleeping on an air mattress.
I slide open the balcony door and sit on the bare concrete floor.
The view of the ocean is worth the wind.
“I saw Heath,” I whisper to Axel like he’s in the room with me. “He’s a biker now. Crazy, right? I think I might still have a crush on him.”
I talk to him sometimes when I need to vent, and after the interview, he feels closer than usual. We didn’t just watch movies together. We had a plan. He was seven years older than me and saving up money. Once he was eighteen, he was going to rent an apartment and I’d live with him.
It was the sort of plan kids dream up. I don’t know if it could’ve ever happened, but we never found out because he died a month after his birthday.
I pull out my phone and scroll through the newest messages. More of the same. A few people reach out to share their own stories of losing loved ones. Those I take more time with.
A blurry picture of me at the nightclub with Sinner, Priest and Colt taken from a distance. I’m holding my drink, about to take a sip. What would your brother think?
A chill slides down my spine. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I respond.
It bounces back. Invalid user.
I take a screenshot and forward it to Mom.
We might not always get along personally, but she’s my manager, and I’ve never doubted how seriously she takes my career.
The vague feeling of danger hangs around the rest of the night, even after I shower and re-inflate the air mattress before settling down to distract myself with a show on my tablet.
I might not have a TV, but at least rent comes with a basic Wi-Fi package.
What would your brother think?
I shiver. The last night I saw him will forever be burned into my mind.
I was twelve, still young enough to think everything was going to be okay.
Mom was out, and I was doing homework at the kitchen table when he came home.
His eyes were wild, and there was blood everywhere, on his face, his hands, and his shirt was soaked through with it.
When people meet me, I know what they think. I’m shy. A pushover. Too trusting. Sheltered.
The truth is uglier than that. I learned early how cruel the world is and how little it cares about my feelings.
It didn’t care when I was four and Mom locked me in the closet with a bottle of water and fruit snacks to have guys over, and it didn’t care when fate stole the only person I knew I could count on.
“Stop. Stop! I’m so fucking sorry, Q. I have to go.
” He pressed a roll of bills and a key into my shaking hand.
“There’s a box in the hiding spot. It’s got the rest of the money I’ve been saving.
I’ll try to come back, okay? But if I can’t…
don’t give her the money. Use it to get away like we talked about.
Don’t tell anyone you saw me tonight. Promise? ”
I knew Axel was working for a gang. I didn’t care. He was my brother and he loved me.
I would’ve run with him that night, but then he was just…
gone. For days I waited for him to come home, but he never did.
Mom never even asked where he was, but I remember her going out and getting her nails done and her hair dyed at the salon instead of in a box in the bathroom, like she was celebrating.
Then three days later, the cops came to the door to tell us the bad news.
The money is long gone, and I never did get away.
But I never, ever told.