Chapter 62
Chapter Sixty-Two
Kain was accepted into Yale a month ago, in November.
He told me this over dinner on his rooftop terrace, three days after I told him I wasn’t going back to my parents’.
When he told me, I could tell from the caution in his delivery that he’d already decided to go.
But he apparently wasn’t excited about the decision.
I didn’t know what he was so downtrodden about.
“It’s freakin’ YALE!” I shouted, my smile so wide I probably looked crazy.
“I knew you would get in! Did you see what I got you for Christmas? Tell me I’m not a pro.
You should be excited. They have the best law school in the nation!
” Yale had been my father’s first choice school before I was born, but he couldn’t get in.
“It’s in New Haven,”
“Okay, and?” My eyebrows shot up expectantly. “May I repeat, best law school in the naaaaation.” Kain didn’t return my smile. “I will break up with you right now if you’re having second thoughts about fucking Yale because you’d rather fool around with me, and… go to Catfish Carol’s every night.”
He made a face. “Nobody’s sayin’ no to Yale for catfish.”
“So what’s with the dull energy?”
“A lot of things are gonna change.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “And that’s not always a bad thing.”
“Not just for me,” he explained. “The whole city. Once I leave for good, Silas’ whole operation is up for grabs. It’ll probably be broken up among several people, and things around here are…really about to change.”
“That’s not your problem,” I told him. “And if you ask me, if the Montgomery name goes on to be associated with the music industry instead of contributing to America’s substance abuse problem, then you’re on the right side of history.
Also, music exec. looks much better for your Beauvais membership application.
” Kain’s eyebrows dipped with literal disgust. “I’m joking! ”
“And I’m gonna miss you,” he admitted.
“No you won’t,” I assured. “You might actually get sick of me. I promise to FaceTime you, and call you, and text you, and when it really gets rough, I can bust out the lingerie and selfie stick. I got you.”
The smile that got out of him wasn’t as happy as I would’ve hoped.
“Come on, Kain, we have to go inside and get your hat. I want to take pictures.” I didn’t wait for him to shoot the idea down, jumping out of my seat and scurrying into the apartment in search of the gift bag. I could hear his unenthusiastic steps behind me. “Come on, come on.”
When I pushed out the hat for him to take, his eyes briefly glanced at my wrist before he took it.
He was looking for the bracelet I wasn’t wearing.
In fact the bracelet was still in its box, hidden in a shoebox in a closet at my parents’.
A pang of guilt shot through me, which I tried to mask as I took at least thirty photos.
***
“Kain.”
We were sitting in his living room, chilling in a comfortable silence, enjoying the presence of one another. He was still wearing his Yale hat, which made me smile. “Yeah, baby?”
“Can you drive to my parents’ house with me? I have to return my car since they own it, and get something from my old bedroom.” Just one thing. The bracelet he’d given to me for my birthday.
He rose out of his seat, patting his pockets for his keys.
“Let’s go.”
The drive to my house felt like it somehow got longer.
Over the past few days at Kain’s, the only member of my family who I’d bothered to contact was Morgan.
And even that was only once to tell her to not expect me back.
Instead of hounding me for answers and slinging accusations at me, she texted me back a date and time to meet her for coffee so that we could talk about it in person.
I was still on for that coffee date with my twin sister, which was scheduled for tomorrow.
When it came to my parents, however, I had no interest in filling them in to the decisions I was going to make from here on out.
Pulling up to my parents’ house was oddly unfamiliar.
I’d only been here less than a week ago, but after a few days of being absolutely showered with love and affection, the outside of my childhood home looked like a place I hadn’t been to in years.
From the cars in the driveway, I could see that both of my parents were home, but my sister was not.
As I killed the engine to the car I was returning, Kain’s black Camaro pulled up behind me. I turned to look back at him as I stepped my way up the porch.
His window rolled down, and with a look alone, he asked if I was okay to go in by myself.
With a nod, I stuck my key into the door.
They hadn’t changed the locks on me yet.
As always, the inside of my house was quiet.
Trying to make as little noise as possible, I didn’t bother shutting the front door behind me.
The stairs beneath my feet creaked all the way through the slow trek up to my room.
When I got there, it looked the same as it always had, filled with memories and personal items that I would’ve liked to have taken with me.
But I was only here for one thing, and I was not about get caught up here because I wanted to take some old toys with me.
Speeding to my closet, I fell to my knees and dug through shoebox after shoebox until I ultimately found the red and gold jewelry box. I breathed a sigh of relief, pressing the box to my chest and making my way out of my bedroom for the last time ever.
Even though I was sure it was all in my head, the stairs seemed to creak under my feet even louder the second time around.
I was afraid to even breathe too loud, my eyes falling on the still opened front door as I descended the last couple of steps.
I was going to make it out of here without running into anyone.
I allowed myself to breathe out a sigh of relief.
Too soon.
“Lauren, what in the hell is wrong with you?” Stepping in from the living room, my father came into view. “Creeping around here and leaving the door all open, had me thinking you were here to rob the place. I could’ve shot you.”
Unblinking, I watched my father tuck a gun into the back waistband of his pants. Beads of sweat bubbled along my hairline, contrasting with the chill I felt run down my spine. I clutched the box at my chest a little possessively, inching closer towards the door. “I was just about to head out.”
“What’s that you got there? And where’ve you been?” My father stepped in closer, eyes focused on the red box in my hands. “You been at Lux’s place this whole time?”
I neither confirmed or denied the question.
Somehow I got the feeling that this was something Morgan might’ve told him.
He was calmer than I expected, somewhat mellowed out.
Maybe positive poll numbers had just come out.
Maybe it was the Christmas spirit. Either way, I didn’t care. There was always calm before the storm.
“Is that box from Cartier?” My father squinted at the luxury brand skeptically, his hand coming out to grab the box. I drew it back. He came in more strongly, assuring, “I’m just trying to see,” snatching the box away from me.
“Daddy, give it back.”
“This must’ve set Rashad back a boatload.
Poor sucker,” he chuckled to himself, not remembering that I told him days ago, at dinner, that Rashad and I were no more.
Dad opened the box to find the gold bracelet, whistling to himself as he inspected the piece.
“I didn’t know he could afford this. Is this real gold? ”
He brought it closer his eyes, looking for signs it might be fake. I tried to reach for it before he saw, but once he froze, I knew he’d found the inscription.
With love. Always. -K
Dad’s eyes snapped up, shooting daggers at me and he let the box fall from his hands.
Out went the calm and here came the storm.
Like clockwork, every single time. I crouched down in front of him to snatch up the bracelet, fully intending to grab it and make a run for the open door.
Dad’s palm grabbed at the back of my head, taking a handful of my hair, and pulling me back up to face him.
“I thought you said you weren’t seeing that boy.”
I felt my eyes begin to water. “Daddy, let go of my hair.”
He pulled harder, roughly yanking at my head with every word he shouted next. “WHY. CAN’T. YOU. JUST. STOP?”
The commotion drew my mother out from her office, upon seeing my father with my hair in his balled up hand, the first thing she did was ask him what I did. As if, given the right answer, this could be justified.
“She’s still screwing that boy!” His grip on my hair strengthened, yanking so rough it felt like he would rip the hair clean out of its follicles. “After everything this family has been though! Just as things were starting to look up! She runs off to be a whore to that lowlife son of a—”
The front door that I’d left open swung wider and Dad stopped talking. Everyone’s eyes darted to the door, falling on Kain. Before Kain could take one step closer, my father reached behind him and pulled out his gun, his hand still clutching at my hair.
Dad aimed his gun directly at Kain’s head, barking at him to not get any closer. He pulled the safety switch down, staring at the man before us with tunnel vision. Dad seemed to be aiming for the capital Y on the Yale hat that Kain was still wearing.
“Joshua, what are you doing?” my mother spoke up. She was alarmed, horrified. “You’re not gonna shoot that boy here, are you?”
Dad didn’t even look at her as he responded. Eyes still on Kain, he said through gritted teeth, “He’s in my house, on my property.”
Kain, as always, didn’t even look the slightest bit scared.
Instead, when Kain’s gaze met mine in the silence of that room, even though his mouth wasn’t smiling, I could’ve sworn his eyes were.
And I knew exactly why.
Because once upon a time, Kain Montgomery took me to an empty house in the middle of Pembroke Pines, Florida.
He pulled a gun out of a kitchen cabinet and walked me to an unfurnished living room.
For hours upon hours, he coached me through dozens of situations where I would need to get a weapon out of someone’s hand.
That day I can remember sarcastically saying to him, ‘You think I’m gonna be able to wrestle a gun out of someone’s hands.’
And he’d confidently replied, ‘I know you will.’
The first thing Kain told me to do when trying to get somebody’s gun, was to always push the line of fire out of the way. From there you hurt the shooter enough so that he will loosen his grip, and then when the gun is in your hands, fire until there are no more bullets.
Drawing in a centering breath, I pushed my father’s arm up, redirecting the line of fire above Kain’s head.
Automatically, I drew back a foot, kicking backwards directly at his groin.
In response to the blow, he fired a single shot into the ceiling.
I brought one arm down slamming my elbow into my father’s stomach behind me.
His grip on the gun loosened, and with my other hand, I closed my fingers around the barrel and pulled the weapon from my father’s hand.
Rather than fire the remaining bullets, I was quick to find the gun’s magazine release, pouring out each and every bullet onto the floor.
As they watched me take apart the gun, my parents were speechless.
I looked over my shoulder to find Kain’s smile.
His eyes on me were not surprised at what I’d managed to do just now, they were simply proud.
When I turned back to face my father, I looked at the unloaded gun in my hands, and then back at him.
“Daddy.” The word came out of me, thick with heartache. “Is this the gun you shot me with?”