Chapter 9
Nine
Deja moo: the feeling that you’ve heard this bullshit before.
—Birdee to Shade
Birdee
It was only seven as I stepped out of my bedroom and headed straight for my bathroom.
Sharing a single bathroom between two bedrooms was okay and all, but it would be nice to be able to step directly into the bathroom from my bedroom like I did at the pool house of my mom and stepdad’s estate.
Though, even that was now tainted as I thought about how na?ve I’d been.
I’d purposefully looked the other way, taking the good where I could get it when it came to my mother.
I couldn’t tell you that I’d avoided everything and everyone because if I didn’t, I was reminded of how sucky my life was. So desperate to get out of this place that I’d do just about anything for the chance to run.
My mother dying had been the best thing to ever happen to me.
No longer did I need to escape. I could stay here, make a life, and hopefully never have to worry about awful family situations ever again.
Though, my biological father’s attempt at being a part of my life felt more forced than anything. Almost as if I was a necessary evil that he had to work out of his system to be able to call himself a good man.
Slamming the door extra hard as I got into the bathroom, I frowned when I heard a thud from the other room.
I opened the door and peered out, only to find nothing amiss in the living area.
“Weird,” I muttered as I closed the door behind me again. “My squirrel definitely needs to find a new home.”
I rushed through a shower, washing my hair, shaving my legs, and getting out in record time.
I left my hair soaking wet and immediately started to go through my curly hair routine.
It was something I’d started only recently. Charleigh had shown me how she did her curly hair, and I’d found that I seriously loved the way my hair looked now.
I would never not fix it from this point forward.
I’d been called enough mean names over my frizzy hair—because my mother didn’t believe in products, which had then led to my older self not putting much effort in either—to know that it wasn’t something that I could just let run wild. It needed some attention.
Luckily, my budding friendship with Charleigh had been tentatively strong enough for me to trust her.
Another bang had me once again opening the door, still buck naked, and rounding the corner to investigate further when…
“Stacy, I’m naked! You need to leave!” I cried out, keeping as much of my body as I could hidden behind the hallway wall.
Stacy looked up, seemingly interested, and said, “What?”
“I’m naked!” I cried out. “What are you doing here?”
“Just doing some improvements,” he said, holding up his toolbox.
I gritted my teeth, trying to hold back the anger that was set on exploding out of me.
“Get out!” I cried.
Stacy held his hands up. “I’m just doing improvements. Which you know is part of the lease, Birdee.”
“Get. Out!” I screamed.
Stacy sighed. “You’re being ridiculous. Just go get dressed.”
I gritted my teeth and said, “All of my clothes are literally in the laundry room behind you.”
Short of putting on my fanciest pair of lingerie, I literally had nothing in my room other than a dirty t-shirt that I’d spilled candle wax on last night.
I slept naked, so last night I hadn’t given much thought to being clothes-less this morning.
But now…
I would never, not ever, be without an outfit again.
“Jesus.” Stacy gathered up his toolbox. “I’ll come another day.”
He left with a slam of the door, and I wondered if he was the earlier bang I’d heard when I’d headed into the bathroom.
Picking up the closest thing I could to a cover-up, I wrapped the blanket from the couch around me and wrinkled my nose at the smell.
The cloying scent of my stepfather’s aftershave nearly bowled me over.
What was wrong with this blanket?
Stomping angrily into the laundry room, I threw the blanket into the hamper and snatched some clothes out of the dryer.
I didn’t have many clothes because I’d been desperate to move out of the pool house in a hurry when Mable had asked us to vacate her property.
I hadn’t argued and had honestly left most of my wardrobe behind because I wouldn’t be needing fancy clothes anymore. I didn’t have to impress my mother with my dress, and she couldn’t control me by bribing me anymore.
So I’d left mostly everything behind.
I had four pairs of jeans, eight T-shirts, and enough sweatshirts to get me through until I had a hefty bank account to help pay for such frivolities.
I had one large winter jacket that I’d gotten from Shade for Christmas last year, enough bras and underwear from Walmart to last me a year, and that was it.
Once I was dressed, I started a new load of laundry, then got boots on my feet before gathering my lunch I’d made the night before and stomping out of my house.
I was a few minutes early, which worked out well because my sometimes ride wasn’t there.
So I started walking, thinking about the shit Stacy had just pulled.
What was he even doing there at seven in the morning? He could’ve come any time, and he waited until I was getting ready for the day?
I forced myself to get my anger under control. Anger was a useless emotion. Nothing ever came of the act, and inevitably, it would only make my day worse than it needed to be
Other than the snow on the ground, it was a mostly pleasant day.
I made it to my job in less than thirty-five minutes, putting me there just shy of fifteen minutes early.
That earliness paid off, because Charleigh was practically bouncing on her toes as she waited for me right inside the door.
“Whoa, do I have a lot of information for you.” Charleigh breezed up to me.
I smiled in excitement. “Tell me everything?”
“So after a couple of hours of internet sleuthing, I compiled a dossier for you.” She beamed as she handed it to me.
It was printed out photos, and a complete biography on Bernice Lynn Arquette.
I moved past the photo fairly quickly, having already seen a similar one in Creed’s house.
Bernice “Bernie” Lynn Arquette. Single. Works at a manufacturing plant for heavy equipment. One brother—Justin Arquette. Deceased. Mother, Bessie Ross. Drug addict.
“How did you find out her mother was a drug addict?” I questioned.
“She has multiple arrest records,” she answered. “Briefly in an article I found online written by Bernice herself, it touches on a few of her and her brother’s struggles in life. How her mom was a drug addict that only cared about herself. How her brother raised her, kept her healthy and fed.”
“What’s the article for?” I wondered.
She pulled a paper from mid-way through the stack and said, “Bernie’s brother was arrested for killing two police officers.
Bernie was in the car at the time, but awoke with no knowledge of the accident.
The brother was convicted, and later Bernice says her memory returned and her mother was the one responsible for everything.
The police thought she was just trying to cover up for her brother, though, and didn’t pursue it any further. ”
I quickly scanned the article that Bernice had penned in a desperate plea to get any help at all for her brother.
It was heartbreaking to see everything she’d gone through at such a young age, only to have her one and only person in life taken away from her.
“That post right there is something she made just recently.” Charleigh shifted papers again.
“This was a heartfelt post to the powers that be about how her brother, who died during a prison break, never should have felt so desperate to have attempted it. He should’ve been given a fair trial when they appealed, instead of having everything denied and swept under the rug. ”
I read that, too, feeling Bernice’s fury and devastation in the words she’d shared.
This will not be the last you hear of me.
I have spent half my life trying to prove my brother’s innocence, and not a single person in the world has taken the time to read deeper than what was right on the surface, handed to them to read.
My brother was not a murderer. Well, not until you made him one.
He went into that corrupt prison system at twenty and a half, having no clue what awaited him.
He didn’t know that upon his arrival, someone would stab him in the chest. That someone being a prison guard who thought he had the right because my brother was a ‘cop killer.’
Let me tell you something, my brother was not a cop killer. My drug-addicted mother was. She was the one that orchestrated everything. Yet, not a single one of you ‘good, caring people’ truly cared.
A year into his prison sentence, my brother was nearly killed again. Yet, nothing was done. No one took the time to find out what, exactly, was going on until my brother had to take his protection into his own hands.
He killed four men, and each subsequent death by his hands was y’all’s fault. (You know who you are.) He wouldn’t have had to protect himself if you hadn’t put him in that position.
Now, my brother is dead, and again, there is no one to blame but you.
I hope that one day, when you finally meet your maker, you are shown straight to the doors of hell. I hope that you lose everything you hold dear. I hope that your children hate you once they grow up and can take care of themselves and choose to not be associated with the likes of you.
I truly believe that karma will come for each and every one of you. And I will never stop fighting for those unjustly imprisoned for crimes they didn’t commit.
My brother might be dead, but his fight will live on.
See you all in hell.
A hitch in my throat had me looking up at Charleigh in surprise. “Whoa.”
“I know.” She widened her eyes. “She’s fierce.”
“She is,” I agreed.
“Anyway, this is everything I was able to find on social media and Google. I even searched through the public records. Everything is here.” She smiled.
Just as she said that, Stacy came breezing in, a smarmy leer on his face. “Hey there, Birdee. Good to see you with your clothes on.”
I gritted my teeth.
“That was highly inappropriate,” Charleigh said. “That is so far out of the realm of boss behavior that I almost feel compelled to file a complaint with the big boss.”
Stacy rolled his eyes. “Get a grip. It was just a joke.”
Then he disappeared into his office, likely to do nothing for the rest of the day like always.
Charleigh’s gaze came to me and she said, “What did he mean by that?”
I explained everything that’d happened that morning.
“What do you mean he just walked in?” she asked. “Did he knock?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted to her. “I mean, he might have. I was in the shower, though. It’s not like I can hear anything over that ancient shower.”
Sometimes, the pipes groaning in the walls were so loud that I feared they might burst.
They hadn’t kicked the bucket yet, though.
Thankfully.
I had a feeling if they did it would be some major damage, and I’d have to move out.
“Did he give you notice in writing that he was going to arrive?” she asked. “They have to do that by law twenty-four hours in advance.”
“No,” I said. “I check my email every day, and it certainly didn’t come through that.”
“I don’t even know what to say.” She looked outraged. “Did you get that job with the dog food company?”
I’d urged her to apply herself. Because no matter what, I was leaving this job behind once I got another one. I just hoped that she was able to find something new as well. Hopefully somewhere where we’d be together.
I liked her a whole lot, and she was great to work with.
It helped that I knew that she’d actually do the work.
“Actually, I have an interview tomorrow.” She smiled, but it faded away. “How will you get to work? It’s not like you can walk to this one.”
I actually blew out a relieved breath when I said, “They said that I could use the company vehicle like all other salaried employees. I just can’t take it on long-haul drives. They said I could use it to do errands and stuff around town, though. As long as I drove respectfully.”
“Of course you would.” She scoffed.
The rest of the day went by as usual.
Stacy didn’t come out of his office until it was lunchtime. He didn’t come back, which Charleigh and I were both thankful for.
Charleigh even offered me a ride home, which I accepted.
With the papers still firmly in my hand, I took a seat at the table and went through everything.
I was looking at the notes that Charleigh had made about upcoming appearances that Bernice planned on making when I got an idea.
It was crazy, and quite frankly nuts.
But it seemed perfect.
I mean, what were the odds that an appearance that Bernice planned on making lined up with an interview that Great Dane’s wanted me to attend with the big bosses in the same stinkin’ city?
Honestly, it seemed like fate to me.
I just hoped that I wasn’t making a crazy mistake.
Oh, and Creed wouldn’t hate me when he found out.