Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Izzy
My frown feels permanent. I will never smile again. Fact. My whole place smells like cardboard. My fingertips are raw from opening boxes, my brain hurts because I don’t know where anything should go, and I’m at the ‘let’s throw shit where it fits and let future me deal with the problem’ point of unpacking. Zero sleep didn’t help, either.
My ex and my bruises take up about twenty-five percent of my brain capacity. Another fifty percent is focused on making sure Drew is ready for his first day of school—tracking down a uniform for him, getting supplies and lunches, and generally making sure this fucking transition isn’t going to do any long-term damage. Fucked-up kids make super fucked-up adults. And there’s enough of those in the world without adding my kid to the mix.
Am I thrilled my father is paying for Drew’s tuition? Absolutely not. And as soon as I start to make enough, I will pay for that too. Debt and the Four Families make for dangerous bedfellows, and even DNA can’t protect me on that level.
Ten percent of my brain is a self-loathing cycle. Another ten percent is playing Tetris with the stuff in my apartment. Which leaves exactly five percent of my mental capacity to think about Lance.
He stands in my doorway with a cup in one hand and a white bag filled with creamer and sugar in the other. “Your file didn’t say anything about your coffee order, but I updated it last night with your favorite non-dinosaur.”
“I’ve changed my answer. My new vote is for flamingos. Complex mating ritual. They live in acidic water that would kill anything else. And pink is pretty.”
He’s sporting a goofy grin, like he’s in on some joke no one else knows about.
I take the coffee and the bag from him, move towards the counter, and pour in five sugars and four creamers.
“Want a little coffee with your sugar?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I want a little caffeine with my milk.”
He laughs, and it acts like a siren song for Drew, who pops his head out of his bedroom, his entire still-growing adolescent body finding its way to the living room moments later. He yanks on his prep school jacket, and it doesn’t fit. Because of course it doesn’t. Fortunately, it’s a loaner for the first week of school until his real one comes.
“Mom,” he says on a long whine. I know what he’s gonna say. It’s too tight and itchy.
“Did you come up with a code name yet?” Lance asks as he watches me move around the kitchen, searching for the glasses my cousin put away last night.
My son shrugs as he pulls at the sleeves. “I was thinking about a lake monster.”
“You could be Nessie, and your mom could be Champ,” Lance offers before pointing to the cabinet by the sink. “The glasses are in there. Unless you moved them in the middle of the night.”
I open the cabinet, and like magic, the glasses appear. I pour my son orange juice and give myself a mental gold star for a job well done. Bare minimum. Mom wins!
Drew frowns at the suggestion. “I think it should be the other way around. Mom should be Nessie, and I can be Champ.”
“Whatever you say.”
I sip my coffee, but it’s room temperature. I pop it into the microwave for twenty seconds and check the time. “Go get your stuff. We need to be at the school in twenty minutes. Finish your drink and brush your teeth.”
Lance makes a face. “Don’t mix those two up because otherwise it will be a rough morning.”
Drew side-eyes Lance. I don’t blame him. I mean, sure the bodyguard seems sweet and considerate, and looks like a Greek god, but still, it’s easy to be fooled.
A few minutes later, we’re out the door. Drew pauses at the SUV. “Woah,” he whispers. I used to drive a beat-up Geo Metro, and the heat would only come on if you sat in the passenger seat at a 45-degree angle. It’s a weird clash between who I was during my exile and who I’m supposed to be.
When I ran away, I left the money and power. My mom’s family was broke, and I was another mouth to feed. I worked until my contractions were seven minutes apart, took two weeks off, and went back to the job. I scraped every penny out of a dime. Secondhand stores and the charity of neighbors are what saved us.
But now I’m home, and the excess and wealth makes me uneasy. A bodyguard, a nice car, private school, I don’t want to get used to this. Who knows how long I’ll be here.
Temporary.
All of this is temporary.
Lance opens the door for us. I take a split second to smell his aftershave before motioning to his crisp white shirt and his dark blue blazer. “I thought I asked for business casual.”
He takes off his jacket and hangs it in the back seat behind him. “Um, this is a fancy school, and I wanna make a good impression for you. Besides, a lot of the guys in the industry work there, so I’ve got to keep up appearances. Don’t worry, it’s only for this meeting.”
As he starts the car and drives off, I realize I don’t know how I feel about this. I asked one thing from him, and he couldn’t do it.
He checks the mirrors constantly along the drive. I used to do this years ago, back when I first moved out. Around when I was on guard and convinced either my ex or my dad would show up and take away the life I built. But over time, I got out of the habit. I was too busy making sure Drew didn’t throw his toys around the car, or that he was still breathing.
Even as a baby, he never moved around when he slept, and I had a fear that I would peer over at his crib one morning, and he would be cold. My brain ran through thousands of scenarios about what would take him away from me.
Long neurotic story short, I never checked for real dangers when my brain was paranoid enough with irrational ones. Once, I even came up with scenarios where Bigfoot kidnapped Drew. Not sure why Bigfoot would take my baby, but I had a plan for if he did. Bonus, I would have evidence of Bigfoot, and I could cash in and possibly pay for Drew’s college.
Goddammit, I am insane.
“Nervous?” Lance asks.
“That Bigfoot will steal my baby?”
“What?”
“What?” Fuck, I said that out loud, didn’t I?
“Mom does that all the time. You’ll get used to it, or you won’t,” Drew calls from the back seat, looking out the window.
Lance exhales out of his nose. Not quite a laugh or a huff, but something else.