Chapter Three
Christopher
“Christ,” I grumbled as I walked off the elevator and immediately heard the thumping bass coming from my apartment.
It wasn’t something I cared about back in their hometown. Kids were angsty as shit. Those who lost everyone they loved had every right to blast their moody rock music to make themselves feel seen.
But the city wasn’t the suburbs. And I didn’t want cops at the door.
At least the door was still unlocked when I stuck in my key. I’d tried to be firm about not wandering out and with basic safety precautions without scaring the shit out of the kids about city life.
It was just… different.
And they were very suburbanized kids. Doors unlocked, walking around with headphones on and music blasting, being completely unaware of their surroundings.
It was shit that I probably shouldn’t have even let fly in their hometowns, but definitely didn’t want to in the city.
My apartment was in a decent area, but on the walk back from Lorenzo’s, I’d passed two very mentally disturbed unhoused people. And maybe they weren’t violent, but you just never knew. You had to be careful. That was something I was trying to ease the kids into.
But not blasting the music when you lived in a building with a hundred other people? That didn’t need any easing.
Charlotte, the twelve-year-old, was sitting cross-legged on the couch, staring blankly at the thick book on her lap.
Every once in a while, she reminded me so much of her mother that it was hard to breathe.
My sister had been bookish too, always begging our mother to stop at the bookstore or library on the way home while I complained in the front seat that I didn’t want to go to either place again.
She always won.
And now, whenever Charlotte asked, she got to go to a bookstore.
She looked a lot like her mom at that age too. Kind of short with an average build, somewhat round face, full lips, golden eyes, and hair that seemed to flirt with the idea of being blonde without fully committing.
Seeing me, she looked up and let out a sigh that I couldn’t hear, but was so big that I could see it move through her body.
It told me everything I needed to know: that Liam had been blasting the music since the moment I walked out of the building a few hours ago.
Thank God it was still the middle of the work and school day. Or I was sure people would have been bitching already.
I walked down the hall to bang on the door to the room that had once been my bedroom.
The apartment was technically only a two-bedroom. But it had a small office that I’d crammed my shit into so the kids could have the bigger bedrooms. I’d already downgraded their living space so much with the apartment that I didn’t want them to have to sacrifice on personal space.
I’d expected the kids to fight over the primary room, but to my relief, as soon as Charlotte looked out the window in the second bedroom to see that a pigeon colony lived on the roof of the building right next door, she declared that it was hers and that we would just have to find a way to make all her books fit.
That ‘way’ was a pile of boxes leaned up against her wall that I still had to build. But her books weren’t supposed to arrive for another two days, so I was hoping to find the time.
No matter how hard I pounded on Liam’s door, though, he couldn’t hear me over the music, so I let myself in.
He was lounging on his bed that he pressed up against the wall with the window so he could look down at the city.
He tossed a basketball up and down in the air, seemingly lost in his own world.
Where Charlotte reminded me of my sister, Liam reminded me a lot of the moody-ass teenager I’d once been. Full of angst and anger for no real reason. Though, in Liam’s case, he had more than enough shit to point to for not being a happy-go-lucky kid.
I wasn’t acknowledged, so I walked over to the stereo and shut it off, making Liam almost jump out of his skin.
“Hey. I was listening to that.”
“Yeah, so was the whole building.” I reached for the expensive headphones he’d gotten for his last birthday and tossed them to him. “I get you want to get the angst out, but in an apartment building, you gotta use headphones.”
“Yeah? Did you give that lecture to the couple in the room above us when they were fucking all night?”
“Language,” I snapped. I never thought I’d be a ‘language’ kind of adult.
I had the mouth of a sailor myself. I had one at his age too.
But I knew his mother hated it. Since her passing, he seemed to curse a lot more.
I guess to get a rise out of me. “Look, I can’t tell other people what volume to be at, but I can tell you.
Wear the headphones. I don’t want cops at my door. ”
“Right. Because you’re some big-shot mafia guy now, right?”
“Christ, kid. This again?”
I glanced out at Charlotte, who seemed to finally be able to focus on her book now that the music was off. I kicked the door closed and leaned against it.
“Well, that’s why, isn’t it? Why the cops can’t come here? Because you’re a criminal.”
“I don’t want the cops here because it was hard as fuck to get custody of you guys to begin with.
You know how hard it’s gonna be to keep it if the neighbors start complaining, the cops come knocking, and I’m not here?
You want to live in a group home? Because that’s what’s gonna happen.
And, trust me, you don’t want to live in a group home in this city. ”
Maybe I was being harsh with him.
But he’d been acting out for months.
And I didn’t have the patience that I figured came with raising someone for seventeen years.
“I can handle myself.”
“Yeah. Maybe. But can Charlotte?”
It was a low blow.
Charlotte, as much as he teased her at times, was his weak spot. I figured that came from growing up in an unstable home where he was parentified and needed to take care of her or shield her at times.
“Look, I get it that everything fucking sucks right now. I’m not saying you can’t be pissed off or upset. I’m just asking you to work with me on a few things. That’s it. Not ticking off the neighbors is one of them. I don’t plan on you being left alone a lot—”
“I’m seventeen.”
“Yeah, and it isn’t your job to watch Charlotte.”
“Done it all this time.”
“And now you get to be a kid. A pain-in-the-ass one, but a kid,” I said. His lips twitched at that but he forced them into a straight line.
“You get your job back?” he asked, feigning disinterest, but I knew he was definitely intrigued by the mafia angle. Which he must have learned by looking it up online. Or during one of his mom’s rambling confessionals she had when her meds weren’t adjusted right.
“Yeah. Start in a few days. But by then, I’m hoping to have you two back in school.”
“Charlotte’s nervous about it.”
So was he. He just wouldn’t admit it.
“I get that. But I think it might be a good thing.”
“How?”
“Because this isn’t a small town. Everyone doesn’t know you or your business. You can start over and be whoever you want to be. And there’s no one who can say otherwise. Think my moody-ass teenage self would have really liked that opportunity?”
That piqued his interest.
The ball finally stopped getting tossed in the air. He sat up and put his legs off the side of the bed.
“Can I go shopping?”
“Yeah. Figure it’s only right to treat this like a fresh school year. You guys can get some new shit.”
“Can I go by myself?”
Did my stomach twist at the idea of him loose in an unfamiliar city with a wad of cash?
Yep. But I ignored it. Because he was seventeen.
He was capable of learning how to navigate the streets, the subways, even a cab if he needed to.
I didn’t need to hold his hand. And he had a cell phone if he ever needed help.
“Sure.”
“Now?”
He wasn’t even gonna ease me into it.
“Alright. With a few rules. Yeah, tough shit,” I said when he rolled his eyes. “You stay in Manhattan. No hopping boroughs. Not until you understand them more, at least.”
“Fine. What else?”
“No headphones. I want you aware of your surroundings.”
“Anything else?”
“Home for dinner.”
“What time is dinner?”
“Seven?”
“You think Char’s gonna wait until seven?” The smirk he shot me reminded me of why it was worth it to put up with all the moody bullshit. There were still moments where I saw the real personality beneath it all.
“Probably not without dragging me to get a ‘sweet treat’ this afternoon.”
“Pro tip,” he said, getting up and sliding his feet into his shoes, “find a sweet treat place close to a bookstore. Or she’s gonna drag you all over the city.”
“You’re not wrong,” I agreed. “Phone charged?” I asked as he picked it up.
“Eighty-seven.”
“Alright. Don’t go flashing this around,” I told him as I pulled a wad of cash out of my pocket.
There was a gut-punch sensation at handing it over.
The cash was dwindling down.
But I had money coming. It wouldn’t be the kind of money that came from working my own jobs, but it would be steady, something I could rely on while I got back on my feet. And once I started making connections again, I could get in on everyone else’s jobs, getting a slice of those profits.
If I hustled hard during school hours, I could be feeling a lot more comfortable in three months. By then, the money for the house would be in, too. Things would be easier. There was no reason to panic about the cash flowing out.
“I get you’re probably gonna buy some stupid shit, but get some clothes too.”
He nodded as he shoved the cash into his wallet.
“What’s for dinner?”
“You and your sister can fight it out. I don’t care. But I’m not cooking.”
“Haven’t tried the pizza yet.”
“Which is a fucking sin. That shit in our old town can barely be called pizza.”
“She’s gonna want chicken nuggets.”
“They’ll have them,” I said, following him out into the hall.
“Where are you going?” Charlotte asked when her brother went to the door alone.
“Shopping.”
“I want to go shopping.”
Liam’s shoulders slumped. Because if she asked, he wouldn’t deny her. But he clearly wanted to go explore alone.
“I’ll take you,” I told her.
“Can we go to the bookstore too? I need the next one in this series.” She waved the giant book she was only halfway through in the air.
“Sure.”
“And get donuts?”
Liam shot me a smirk.
I returned it.
And it was right then that I was sure it was all going to be okay.
Of course, that was before I met Alara.