Serena appears, charging down the hall. “Wait,” she snaps in a whisper, and quickly grabs the baggie of weed off the table. She plucks the tiny roach out of the ashtray as the pounding starts again. With wide eyes, she shrugs and tosses the roach in the baggie, then shoves it down the front of her pants. “One state over,” she grumbles. “One state over they don’t have to do this shit.”
Remee and Zara both emerge from their rooms looking as perplexed and alarmed as we do.
The pounding starts again, and I swear, they’re going to bring down the whole place. I glance at Serena, and she nods. My eyes have had just enough time to adjust to the dark living room, and the bright sunlight momentarily blinds me when I open the door.
Damn it. Why couldn’t it have been cops?
“Kelly,” my father roars. “Why don’t you answer your fucking phone?”
It’s everything I can do not to cower in front of him. It’s that voice. The voice that has commanded me my whole life. For a long moment, I just stand there, staring at him as he fills the doorway. Then something takes over. Some little part of me that awakened the day I decided to go against everything he wanted and ran out on my fiancé. He doesn’t control me anymore. I won’t let him.
My back straightens and my chin lifts until we’re glaring into each other’s eyes. “I was busy. What are you doing here?”
“I came for my car.”
I knew this was coming. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before. They gave me the car for my eighteenth birthday. It was supposed to be my birthday and high school graduation gift, but I should’ve known better. My father put the car in his name, not mine. It wasn’t a gift, only another means of control.
He can have the damn car.
“Fine. I’ll get the keys.” He makes a move to step inside, but I slam and lock the door in his face.
All three of my roommates stare at me, mouths agape as I lean against the door and cover my mouth with my hand. Holy shit, that felt good. So many years in the making.
Zara is the first to speak. “He can’t take your car!”
“Actually, he can.” I grab the keys and head to the kitchen for an empty bag. “The title is in his name. Will one of you go out with me and help me grab my stuff from the glove box and trunk? There isn’t much.”
Serena takes the bag from me. “Of course.”
A smile grows on my face as I watch the three of them slip on shoes to go with me to face my father. When I step outside, I can’t believe who I see standing beside him.
Stanley. What the hell is my ex doing here? My brother and his friends humiliated and scared him off weeks ago. The sight of him is a shock and I stop like I’ve run into a wall, causing Zara to bump into my back. “I don’t believe this,” I snap.
I push the button on the key fob to unlock the car and turn to Serena. “Can you grab the stuff out of the glovebox and seat? I’ll get the trunk.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
The girls aren’t the only ones watching this craptacular moment. Half the neighborhood seems to have filtered out to watch this show. My plan to ignore my father and Stanley while I clean out the car doesn’t work. Stanley reaches out and grabs my arm as I stalk past him, and I jerk it away with a hiss. “Don’t touch me.”
Gavin, the guy from a few doors down approaches us. “Kelly, is everything okay?”
“I’m good. As long as he keeps his hands off me.”
Gavin isn’t that much bigger than Stanley. Only an inch or so taller and a bit wider in the chest, but his tank top shows well muscled arms, and his whole demeanor says we both know I could kick your ass when he glares at Stanley.
Stanley appears to agree since he takes a step back before speaking. “I just came to talk. It doesn’t have to be this way. Come back to me. You won’t lose your car or have to work. I bought a nice house for us.”
Anger races through me, heating my blood. Before I can sputter out the words to tell him off, Zara speaks up. “What kind of offer is that? Just give up your independence and come prostitute yourself for a car?” The indignant tone of her voice makes me smile through the rage. “She doesn’t need a sugar daddy.”
“Pfft,” Remee scoffs, coming up beside me. “Look at him. He’s no one’s sugar daddy.”
Serena circles the car, the bag of my belongings in hand, and pushes past him. “Hey, Papa Artificial Sweetener, move your ass and let her get her stuff.”
“Kelly,” he says, ignoring the insult. “If we can just talk for a moment alone.”
The guy just doesn’t give up. And it’s not because he cares about me or loves me. No, it’s because he thinks he’s entitled to me. I’m the little rich girl he chose and how dare I trade him in for such a lifestyle as this? He truly can’t wrap his ugly head around it.
“Can you grab another bag for some of this stuff?” I ask Serena, and she nods, heading back into the house.
When I take a few steps away from the trunk, I can feel all the neighbors’ eyes on me, along with my father’s glare. He hasn’t said a word, just stood back with his arms crossed, watching.
Squaring my shoulders, I look Stanley in the eye. “The fact that you would actually try to get me back, knowing the only reason I’d agree is because I’m being blackmailed over a car, screams everything anyone would need to know about what kind of man you are. You’re pathetic. Stay away from me.”
“Woo! You tell’em, girl!” My head whips around to see an elderly lady in a wheelchair, cheering me on. Vera is her name, if I remember correctly. This whole scene would be funny if it weren’t so humiliating.
Serena returns, and Zara steps around to the open trunk with her again while I watch Stanley stalk off toward my parents’ car. It’s then I see my mother climb out of the passenger seat. Wow, they really brought the whole family for this mess. Maybe I should’ve invited Trey.
It’s harder to face my mother’s pleading face than my father’s furious one but as soon as she speaks, my resolve strengthens.
“Oh, Kelly, look at your hair! Haven’t you been treating it? And your nails desperately need a manicure. Please. You don’t want to live like this. Look what you’re doing to yourself.”
By the way she’s reacting, you’d think I’d just rolled out of a dumpster and shook the garbage off me. My expression must show what I think of her judgement because she changes her tactic.
She talks to me in the voice you’d use when a dog has something in its mouth, and you don’t want it to run. “You don’t have to marry Stanley. I understand if he’s not the right one for you. Come home and we’ll find someone more suitable.”
“No.”
She still doesn’t get it, and I’m not going to try to explain for the umpteenth time while my neighbors watch. I’m not defending my choices or trying to get her to accept them. I’ve already said what I needed to say, and this time no is a complete sentence. “While you’re in town, Mom, why don’t you visit Trey and Rowan? Don’t you want to see your only grandchild?”
She winces and glances at my father, who tosses the car keys to Stanley. “You drive this one back,” he orders. Pointing his glare at me, he adds, “Your phone will be disconnected tonight.”