Chapter 3
“You look like you’re going to throw up. What’s wrong?” Zoe grabbed a ginger ale off a nearby tray and shoved it in my hand.
I sipped it on autopilot.
What was wrong?
Where would I even begin? Maybe with the fact that less than ten minutes ago I was pressed up against a wall by my stepfather and liked it?
That I wanted to suck his tongue into my mouth and run my hands down his body.
That for the first time in a long time, my thoughts were consumed by fantasy of a man having his way with me. And Justin clearly felt the same way.
Or maybe I should start with the fact that he’d been paying for my education for the past three years. And now, what? He wanted a relationship? He was using my tuition payment as something to hold over my head to try and force some twisted father-daughter time?
But what better time to mock me than while we were in the cellar?
Why make that comment about us not seeing each other if he was going to lord this over me?
Was he not going to hold it over me?
“Earth to Katie, you in there, babe?”
I shook my head. “Yeah, sorry. Too many tabs open in my brain right now. Did you bother googling that address you sent me?”
“No, why?”
I lowered my voice. “It’s this address, Zoe. Here. It’s Justin Kingston’s house.”
Her eyes got big. “What? Why?”
I pushed aside my guilt. It’s not that I’d lied to Zoe all this time, I just hadn’t shared with her much about my family.
I didn’t have one. End of story. No one wanted to hear a sob story about a father I never knew, and a mother that was never around.
At eighteen I was on my own. Then I met Zoe in college, and I’d been given a taste of what a family might have been like.
I took a deep breath and steeled myself. “He’s my stepdad.”
“Shut the front fucking door.”
A woman with diamonds dripping from her ears scoffed at us and turned the other way.
I fought a grin, because now was not the time to find anything amusing. “I’m serious, Zoe, and keep your voice down.”
“Sorry. But he’s like…hot. Like, really, really—”
“I get it,” I pinched the bridge of my nose. I did not need this devil on my shoulder right now. My moral compass was spinning enough as it was. “I don’t care how hot he is, he doesn’t give a shit about me, and this is all some twisted way of manipulating me.”
Zoe frowned. “You’ve never mentioned him once to me. How do you know him so well?”
“I know enough.”
She didn’t look convinced. “Care to elaborate?”
No. “My mom left me for him.”
“And that’s his fault, how?”
It was like pushing on a bruise. Fine if I left it alone, but bringing this up, pushing on the injury, brought pain.
“Because for two years I tried to be a part of their lives and they wanted nothing to do with me, okay? I was stupid and in high school when my mom met Justin. She’d introduced me once.
” I’d been so overjoyed, stars in my eyes.
I thought I’d finally get a family, that Justin would be someone who wouldn’t ignore me.
Hell, he’d even seemed like a decent guy when I first met him.
But appearances could be faked. “When I asked if she’d bring him over more, for dinner or movie nights, she said he didn’t like the fact that she had a child.
” It’d stung, almost as much as watching my mom slip away from her life with me to spend more time with him.
“I even wrote him a letter—a letter, Zoe,” like a lovesick girl, “asking if he’d please bring my mom to my high school graduation. Asking for both of them to be there.”
Zoe’s gaze dropped. “I’m so sorry, Katie. What a bastard.”
It wasn’t even the worse part. “One time I went to their house, not this place, mind you, but a nicer place than my mom and I ever had. I rang the doorbell and asked the maid that answered if my letter had been delivered.” It’d been humiliating.
I’d taken a bus and then walked a few miles in the heat.
I still remembered the itch between my shoulder blades as people watched me from their windows.
I was a street urchin, disturbing their perfect little neighborhood.
“What happened?” Zoe pulled me from my memories.
“She shrugged and disappeared for a while. She came back with the opened envelope, my letter stained with black coffee. My mom didn’t drink black coffee.
He’d read it and threw it away.” I stared deep into the bubbling soda in my hands.
“I tried for a whole year after that, sending holiday cards—texting my mom if they wanted to do dinner, then they moved without telling me. I gave up after my first year in college.”
Message received. They didn’t want me. Mom changed her number and I wasn’t going to search her or Justin up for their contact information. Why bother? So they could hurt me more?
Then mom’s socialite lifestyle had gotten the better of her and barely a year later she’d wrapped herself around a tree under the influence. My mom and I weren’t bred for high society, I could only image what trying to fit in had done to her already messed up psyche.
All the more reason to steer clear of Justin.
He’d taken the only family I’d had from me, twice.
And yet, even now, my heart picked up speed when I thought about being in that cellar with him.
It was like that first meeting all over again.
My chest filling with hope until it squeezed my lungs and I couldn’t get any air.
Like all the time before now had been erased.
God, what was wrong with me? Was I that desperate for any kind of attention, affection?
I needed to login to my cybersex chatroom and soon.
“So, what’re you going to do?” Zoe asked around a mouthful of cheese.
I stole a slice and popped it in my mouth before anyone could see. “Avoid him. After today, I never have to see him again.” And the strange energy between us would be nothing but a bad memory. One I’d wash off at the end of the day with a cold shower.
“Not today, I mean the whole fairy godfather act he’s been doing.”
The cheese stuck in my throat. “I don’t want his guilt money, or charity, or whatever the hell this is. I’m going to call the office on Monday and take myself off his payroll, by whatever means necessary.”
Concern etched itself on Zoe’s face. “You know I 100% believe in and support you, right?”
“Why do I feel some kind of ‘but’ coming on?”
Zoe held her hand up, palm out. “No buts, just a gentle nudge, a reminder if you will, that if you stop the influx of cash, you’re going to be up a creek. A brown one, filled with shit, if I wasn’t clear enough.”
“I know, but he’s already stopped the influx of cash.” I felt the need to point out. “That’s how this whole mess got started. I won’t be under his thumb, Zoe. I’ll figure something out.”
“Maybe I could put your tuition on my credit card?”
I pulled her in for a quick hug. “You’re the best, Zoe, but you and I both know your step-monster monitors the shit out of that thing and I don’t want you in anymore trouble with that woman than you already are.”
Zoe rolled her eyes. “Please, I’m pretty sure she’s cutting me off after I graduate. Dad’s been dropping hints that I need to focus on a good career.”
“Well, if you ever need a roommate…” I let the offer hang.
Now it was Zoe’s turn to grab me for a quick squeeze. “I’ll hit up my boy toy at the financial office, okay? Maybe he’ll know of something we can arrange for you. We’ll find a way.”
Anxiety was already working its way around my stomach, fear stealing my bravado. Without my tuition backing, I’d be rubbing pennies together hoping they’d breed.
But I refused to be Justin Kingston’s pawn.
I nod. “We’ll find a way.”
Late Monday afternoon, I was pretty sure I was having a panic attack.
The door to my room was shut, the Ramirez family out at one of their cousin’s soccer games.
It wasn’t an ideal living situation, but I couldn’t beat the rent for a single bedroom.
The blinds were drawn, the air conditioning unit in my room rattling as it fought a losing battle against the sweltering heat.
I was flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, chest too tight to be normal.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
The financial officer’s voice still resonated in my head.
He’d never heard of anyone giving up money.
Well, surprise.
The lie about coming into a sudden influx of cash and wanting the benefactor to help someone in need had barely made it past my constricted throat.
I grabbed my phone.
Me: I think I’m dying. What are the symptoms of a heart attack?
Zoe: Is your face drooping? I heard droopy face is a symptom.
My lip twitched.
Zoe: Did you search the paid internships I told you about the other day?
Me: Not yet. I’m a little busy with my panic attack. Thanks for asking btw.
Zoe: Sounds like a wonderful way to spend the evening. Enjoy! #selfcaremonday #panicattackforthewin
A laugh escaped me, some of the tension easing around my chest.
I could do this. One evening for pity. That’s all I got. Then I’d get online and find no less than five internships that wouldn’t have me ripping my hair out. I could juggle three jobs and school if need be.
The thought made me sick, but three more quarters, that’s all I had left of the school year.
The doorbell sounded through my door, followed by three succinct knocks.
I turned my head as if I could see through my door, around the corner, to the front.
Every once in a while, the Ramirez’s neighbor brought left over casserole when she baked too much. Usually I was at school and missed out on the freebies, but this time I’d have it all to myself. Lunch for the week solved.
I shot to my feet, more excited than I really should’ve been.
The universe was already repaying me for the shitty day last week.
Three more knocks sounded as I rounded the corner. “I’m coming,” I bellowed in case she decided to take off with my free food thinking no one was home.
I threw the door open.
Justin stood on the other side, jaw set, clad in black dress slacks, polished shoes, a light blue button down, and a loosened, navy blue tie.
The sight of him on the Ramirez’s cracked, concrete stoop was startling.
“…the hell?”