3. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Trix
Liam drives us across town, and the closer we get to the trailer park, the more my stomach turns.
Although it's midday and the sun is blaring down on us, the deeper we drive into the town, the darker and colder it feels.
Maybe it's because we're driving closer to the coast and the cliffs, or maybe it's because this part of Blackrock Point is rundown compared to the rest of the town. Either way, I don't like it, and I certainly don't miss living here.
When we reach the edge of town, we drive along a narrow, winding road—the one no locals dare to use because it only leads you to the trailer park and toward the Steel Devils clubhouse—just as the wooden fence encasing the trailer park comes into view.
Liam turns, slowly inching past a sign that's covered in dirt and grime, with the letter 'A' missing and the 'I' hanging upside down from the words Blackrock Point.
The cobbled path crunches beneath the car's tires as I direct Liam past rows of trailers, and through multiple little lanes toward my childhood home.
His eyes scan our surroundings, his gaze snagging on some of the more rusted and dilapidated trailers.
Although he's hiding it well, I can sense his distaste.
We reach the back of the park, and I tell him to turn left, nervously shifting in my seat.
I'm worried about his reaction when he sees where I used to live. Liam's not a judgmental person, but he's the son of the richest man in town, and I'm certain he's never set foot in a place like this before.
"It's this one on the right," I mumble, focusing my gaze on the rusted metal with flaking paint and crooked, crumbling wooden steps.
He parks the car on the small patch of grass beside the trailer, then turns the engine off.
We sit in silence for a few moments before I clear my throat and unbuckle my seatbelt.
"I'll just drop my stuff inside and check everything out, then we can get out of here and go to the diner with Em."
Opening the car door, I climb out quickly. Closing it quietly behind me, not wanting to draw attention, I spot Liam doing the same, albeit louder than me.
"What are you doing?" I hiss.
Shrugging, he opens the back door, grabs my duffel bag, then slings it over his shoulder.
"I'm coming inside with you."
I shake my head, but he walks around the car, ignoring my silent protest.
"We can assess the damage together and see what you need for the short time you'll be here."
Sighing, my shoulders slump in defeat, and I follow after him.
He stops at the bottom of the small steps leading up to the door of the trailer and holds his hand out towards me, palm facing the sky.
I frown, my eyes flicking back and forth between his hand and his face.
"The keys," he states, folding his fingers into his palm before stretching them back out again.
Chuckling, I move past him and cautiously place my foot on the bottom step before reaching for the flimsy handle.
"There's no need for keys here," I tell him, then pull the handle down, yanking until it flies open. "The door does stick sometimes, though."
"Nothing a hard tug can't fix!" a familiar, high-pitched voice calls from behind us.
Glancing over my shoulder, I spot Wanda, my neighbor, standing in the doorway of her trailer opposite mine.
A wide, genuine smile graces my face, and I hop off the creaky steps, bounding over to the older woman who used to look after me when I was younger.
She's dressed in a fluffy white robe with big purple rollers scattered through her blonde dyed hair, and a full face of make-up.
When I reach the steps of her trailer, she opens her arms wide, and pulls me into a tight hug, almost squeezing the life out of me.
"You're looking so good, Pip. The red hair looks amazing on you!"
The use of my childhood nickname has my nose wrinkling.
"Pip?"
Untangling myself from Wanda's hold, I turn to face Liam and shrug.
"I was a small kid," I tell him. "Everyone called me pipsqueak."
"Such a small and frail little thing. Bless her heart," Wanda adds, patting my cheek affectionately. "I'm glad to see you've finally filled out. It suits you!"
My eyes sweep over my body and I nod. Stepping away, I pull my thin cardigan tighter around myself.
I can understand her comment, because I look extremely different to how I did when I left this place almost four years ago—my hips are wider, my face is fuller and more rounded, and I finally have some meat on my bones. An ample amount in all honesty.
Her comment doesn't make me uncomfortable because of some underlying insecurity. I'm comfortable in my skin, and I've learned to love my body over the years. It may not be what most people would call 'perfect', but I'm happy with the way I look, and that's all that matters.
I spent too many years concerned with other people's opinions on what I looked like.
But it was Emery and Liam who helped me see that just because I don't fit into the boxes people want me to, it doesn't mean I need to change myself.
They taught me that I don't need to appease everyone else but myself.
However, the reason Wanda's comment fills me with discomfort is because it reminds me of what I was like before I left. Before I spent a lot of time at Emery's house, and before I went away to college.
It reminds me of the life I had with my father, and thinking about that man fills me with dread.
"Well, as much as I'd love to pick your brain for some embarrassing stories about Trix, we were just dropping some things off before we leave again."
I'm grateful for Liam's interruption, and I gladly use it as an excuse to escape.
"I'll see you around, Wanda."
"You know where I am if you need anything, Pip."
As soon as she steps back inside her trailer and closes the door, I breathe a sigh of relief.
"Let's get this over with and get out of here," I mutter, walking past Liam and into my trailer.
After wiping down the last few cupboards with cleaning products I'd left here—which were also covered in dirt and dust—I sigh, then place my hands on my hips.
I'm glad Liam was here to help, because this would've taken longer than the hour it's taken us if I was by myself.
"Well, it looks a bit better," he says, using his arm to wipe sweat from his forehead.
Glancing around at the outdated décor—the ripped and stained floral sofa cushions, and the kitchen surfaces that are as chipped as the black nail polish on my nails—I nod.
"Yeah, I suppose."
"At least the bedroom and the bathroom look better than out here," he adds.
Staring down the short, narrow hallway that leads to the cramped bedroom, I scoff.
"I'm definitely buying new bedding though. Plus, I'm going to need more disinfectant to scrub that bathroom another couple of times before I even think about stepping foot in it."
Slapping his hands against his thighs, he stands from the sofa and makes his way to the door.
"Let's go shopping for some things, then. We could always cancel going to the diner."
Shaking my head, I follow him outside, closing the door behind me.
"I don't want to cancel on Em. You two go back to college tomorrow and I want to spend time with you both."
"Trix, you've spent the whole summer with us."
Even though he raises a good point, I roll my eyes.
"Well, either way, I want a chocolate milkshake and some of Mabel's signature fries!"
"Okay," he relents. "We'll still go to the diner, but we'll just tell Emery we're going to be longer than expected."
Jumping down from the steps, I follow him to the car but when I hear my name being called, ice shoots down my spine.
Huffing, I turn around and watch as Dave, the owner of the trailer park, hobbles toward me.
"Beatrix!" he shouts again, waving his meaty arm in the air as he draws closer.
I grimace at the use of my full name and cross my arms, popping a hip as I wait for him to close the space between us.
My gaze scans over the tight white wife-beater top and the khaki shorts hanging loosely around his hips, and a snort slips free at the sight.
So cliché.
"What can I do for you, Dave?"
He stops in front of me, blowing a cloud of smoke directly into my face.
"I was wondering if you'd show up here again," he says, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. "I knew it'd only be a matter of time."
"It's just temporary," I tell him, shuffling back a step as Liam sidles up next to me.
"We were also just about to leave," he reiterates, saving me for a second time from an uncomfortable situation.
Plucking the cigarette from his mouth, Dave flicks it on the ground between us, crushing it under his sandal.
"Well, it's a good thing I caught you then, because I'm here to talk about the overdue rent."
My brows skyrocket.
"Overdue rent?"
A malicious grin stretches across his face and he nods.
"You see, your father hasn't been here for the last three or four weeks. Word is, the job he'd been doing suddenly fell through, and he skipped town."
I sigh in disappointment.
"Anyway, I always give him time to scrounge up the money because in his line of work, he's usually able to make a good amount in such a small time, if you catch my drift."
"Yes, Dave, I get it," I spit, tired of listening to him. "He was selling drugs as well as using them. It's nothing new. Get to the point already."
"Well, he hasn't come back in time like he usually would, and as far as I'm aware from word around the park, Mr Connell's also done a disappearing act, so I think it's safe to say your father won't have the money I need."
I can already tell where this is leading, and my shoulders drop before he delivers the final blow.
"I'd be willing to chase him up about the rent, but when I do that, he usually returns soon after."
The thought of my father coming back whilst I'm staying here has panic and fear crawling its way through my body.
"I'll pay the rent," I mutter, defeated and unsure if I'm even able to do so. "Just give me a week or two and I'll come up with the money."
Liam grabs my arm, but I shake him off, keeping my desperate, pleading gaze fixated on Dave.
Stroking his hand over his graying, frazzled beard, he acts like he's considering my offer for a few moments.
"Very well. You have two weeks. That will, however, be when I need this month's rent payment too. Let's hope you have it in you to come up with nine hundred and fifty dollars by then, ay."
Rolling my lips together, I nod.
"I'll sort it."
His eyes run over me and Liam, then he turns and walks away.
My heart plummets into my stomach, my eyes drop to the floor, and I hang my head as I scramble to gather my thoughts and come up with some sort of plan.
"Trix?"
"Shit!"
"Trix?"
"Fuck!" I shout, then lower myself into a crouch, threading my fingers through my hair.
Liam's arms circle around my body as he lowers himself to the ground behind me and rests his chin against my shoulder.
"Let me help you with the money," he mutters.
"No," I say immediately, dragging my hands over my face. "I can't accept money from you, Liam. And I don't want you telling Emery about this either, because she'll offer as well."
"But—"
"No, Liam!" I protest. "This is my problem, and I'm going to be the one to fix it."
His hold on me loosens, and we both stand up, facing each other.
"If you won't accept money from me, then why don't you forget about this place and come stay with me?"
"We both know your father would never agree to that." I scoff. "He stopped me from being anywhere near your house when he found out I was trailer trash."
"Well then, we get you a job," he suggests.
Smiling at him, I shake my head.
"Liam, I appreciate you trying to help, but it's no use. Clearly, I'm going to need a job, yes, but how am I meant to find one that'll hire me straight away? And pay me enough to afford two months' worth of rent in two weeks?"
His brows furrow, but he stays silent, confirming what the voice inside my head is already telling me.
I'm completely and utterly screwed.
Brushing my hands over my denim shorts, I kick at the floor with the tip of my Converse.
"Can we just go now? I'm tired of this—"
"I've got a solution," he says, then pulls his phone from his back pocket.
Although I feel the need to insist I don't need his help, I know my words will fall on deaf ears. So, I impatiently wait as his thumb swipes over the screen and then clicks on a number, lifting the phone to his ear.
He curses after a couple of seconds, scowling at his screen and dials the number again.
When the call cuts off again, he laughs and taps again, then lifts it to his ear once more.
After a couple of seconds, I hear incoherent grumbling through the phone.
"Hey, Milo. I need a favor."