Chapter 2 #2
“For castrating a royal.” I smirk when he visibly winces.
“I think you’re lying.”
“Then why did you wince?”
“Because you said the word castration,” he replies in all seriousness. “All guys have a physical reaction to that word. Even castrated ones.”
I almost laugh and, holy shit, I don’t like that at all.
I do not need to be laughing at some rich guy, even if he’s funny, and gorgeous, and charming.
But that’s the thing. The charm is fake.
I’ve heard stories about royal men slipping into the shadows of the northside and wining and dining women from there, only to ditch them once they’ve used them up.
I’ve even heard stories about them knocking women up then disowning the baby.
My aunt Ellie told me that happened to her friend and said it destroyed her.
She had to give the baby up for adoption and everything because she couldn’t afford to take care of her and had no support system.
I try to come up with some snotty response that hopefully gets him to leave me alone, but come up empty.
Fortunately, the middle-aged man hangs up the phone. He faces me with tears streaming down his face and snot running out of his nose. “I think my marriage is over.”
“It’s a good thing you’ll have your Mommy Bear.” I push away from the wall.
I don’t feel bad for being rude. My dad has cheated on my mom more times than I can count, and it’s turned her into a shell of a human being.
I used to wish she’d leave him—and I still do—but I’m trying to disconnect with the situation because I’ve spent way too many years and energy trying to convince her to, and it’s gotten me nowhere.
Tears bubble in his eyes that are bloodshot and shadowed, and he reeks of booze and smoke. Everything about him screams strung out, and I hate the familiarity of his presence.
“You’re a bitch. You know that?” he spits, stepping toward me.
I keep my feet planted on the floor. “So I’ve been told.”
He balls his hands into fists—to hit me, perhaps—but I never get to find out since Officer James returns.
“Gary,” he says to the middle-aged man, “your time’s up. Let’s get you put back in the cell.”
“But I don’t wanna go in there,” he whines while tugging at the bottom of his shirt, like a toddler about to have a tantrum. “It smells bad.”
“You smell just like it,” Officer James assures him, causing me to snort a laugh.
When Officer James glances at me, I offer him an apologetic look, like I did before. It wins him over again, and he tries not to smile before urging the middle-aged guy—aka Gary—toward the barred door to the cell the royals are in.
Lucky them.
Tearing my attention off the cell, I pick up the phone and, with a deep breath, dial my mom’s cell.
“Please pick up. Please pick up,” I mumble, crossing my fingers.
If she doesn’t, I’m so screwed since it’s Friday night and all my friends will more than likely be too wasted to come down.
My aunt Ellie lives outside the country and is unreachable, and I don’t know my other relatives.
And Kelsie, who I consider my best friend, took off a handful of weeks ago with this guy who has a warrant out for his arrest. She says he’s the love of her life, but she’s flakey when it comes to guys. I know she’ll be back eventually—
“Hey … who is this?” my mom answers the phone, and I immediately sense she’s been drinking.
“This is Maddy, Mom.” I pause. “Are you drunk?” I lower my head against the wall. The concrete is cold against my skin and is likely covered in all sorts of gross substances, but it fits the moment.
“Nah, I’ve just had a few beers. That’s all,” she insists.
“Well, you sound drunk,” I mumble, noting the music playing in the background. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the bar,” she replies. “But I’ve only been here for like an hour. I promise I’m not that drunk.”
“Okay.” I’m not sure if I believe her, but I need to get bailed out, and she doesn’t sound completely drunk, so she’s probably my best bet. “I need a favor from you, and it needs to be done quickly.”
“What’s wrong?” she instantly asks. “You didn’t run into that gang, did you? The one that’s upset with your father because they think he got their boss in trouble.”
The way she says “they think” makes my lips twitch. She’s always so delusional when it comes to my father, but now’s not the time to get into this with her.
“I did, actually,” I tell her. “They didn’t hurt me or anything, but I got arrested.”
“Shit, did you hit someone again?”
“Only because they were holding me against my will.”
“Dammit, Mads, why do you have to keep doing this?” She has the audacity to scold me. “I thought you learned the first time that you can’t get into fights. You have to be more careful.”
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Go to your state of Zen.
Think of running. And fresh air. And open space.
“Can you come bail me out?” I ask.
She hesitates. “I don’t have the money, hon. You might have to wait this out.”
“I can’t wait it out, Mom. I have work tomorrow and school stuff to deal with.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. Money doesn’t grow on trees.”
She says this all the time, even though she’s never given me a dime.
Even when I was a child, she’d often send me to the corner of the street to beg for money.
When things got really bad, I’d turn to stealing, something I’m not proud of.
The moment I turned fifteen, though, and was of legal age to become employed, I got a job, and it was a relief.
“I know that, but you’re always able to come up with money to bail Dad out,” I remind her. “Can’t you just use your car title to get a bail bond?”
“Oh, I took a loan out on that a few weeks ago, so I can’t.”
I feel like banging my head against the wall. “For what?”
“Just for stuff,” she replies as someone says something to her. She laughs, and it’s like nails on a chalkboard. “Look, I’m really sorry you’re in jail, but I can’t bail you out, so …”
I shut my eyes and breathe in and out. “Look, I have some money stashed away, and I’ll tell you where it is, but you have to swear that you’ll only take the amount to bail me out because the rest of it is for my school expenses.
If you take any extra, I swear I’ll disown you and never talk to you or help you again. ”
“Jesus, Mads, what kind of mother do you think I am?” She sounds appalled, as if she’s conveniently forgotten the multiple times she’s screwed me over.
“I’m serious, Mom,” I warn. “Don’t take anything extra than five hundred, which should be enough to bail me out.”
I’m unsure of what I’ll do after I get out, seeing as how I might face assault charges.
Maybe I can talk to Drew and see if I can get him to drop the charges.
It’s a long shot, but I do have some dirt on him that could help me, like how he steals some of the money from dealing.
And if his boss finds out … well, Drew could end up in the canal with the trash.
I wouldn’t tell his boss—I don’t want blood on my hands—but I could threaten to do so.
“I promise I won’t,” my mother reassures me, and I loathe the doubt plaguing my mind.
“The money is taped to the upper part of my top drawer,” I tell her, hoping I’m not making a mistake.
I used to keep my cash in a checking account, but then my debit card got stolen while I was at school—twice—so I decided to hide my money and only carry a low amount on me.
That way, if I ever get robbed, I won’t lose that much money.
“It’s in a leather pouch. Take five hundred, and then put the rest back, okay? ”
“Okay,” she tells me as the sounds in the background switches.
“And leave right now to do it,” I add.
“I’m taking off right now, hon. See you in a bit.” She hangs up.
And I’m left with this twisting sensation in my stomach that I’ve felt way too many times, but I do my best to disregard it, hang up the phone, and turn around to tell Officer James I’m ready to go back to the cell.
Finn has retaken his seat, but his attention is still on me, and a hint of pity is in his eyes, meaning he probably overheard that sad conversation that is my life. Whatever. Like I give a shit that some rich dude I’ll never see again heard me arguing with my mother about not robbing me.
River, however, has his head resting against the cement wall, and his eyes are shut. Is he seriously asleep right now? I mean … how? It smells, and it’s loud, and I think a guy inside his cell is peeing in the corner.
“You good?” Officer James appears in my line of vision.
I nod and force a smile onto my face. “Yeah, my mom’s heading down to get me.”
“Good.” He nods for me to follow him as he heads back toward the cell I was in. “Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”
I warily eye him over as I follow him. “Eighteen … Why?”
He holds up his hand. “I promise I’m not being a pervert. It’s just that you look like you’re around the age you should be going to college, but you’re in here, and I’m wondering why.”
“You act like there aren’t a lot of eighteen-year-olds that come in here,” I point out. “This is northside—over half the people my age have probably been in here, if not more.”
“I know, but you don’t have that same roughness to you that a lot of others have.” He stops in front of the cell door. “My partner back there says you’ve been arrested before, but that he doesn’t think you’re a bad kid. That you’ve just been dealt a bad hand.”
“Mmm … A bad hand? Is that what this nightmare of a life is?”
He sympathetically looks at me as he reaches for his keys. “Look, I’ve been there. I grew up in northside, too, but just because you were born into a shitty life, doesn’t mean you need to keep living it.” He pulls the door open.
This might be the first time I’ve ever liked a police officer.
“Thanks for the advice, Officer James.” I step into the cell. “Just so you know, I’m trying to not live this shitty life anymore. I’m going to college in just a few days, then I’m out of this city.”
His lips tug into a smile. “Good for you, kid. I hope everything works out for you.”
Me, too, James; me, too.
Right now, though, I’m just hoping my mother doesn’t screw me over.