He chuckles, and I shoot daggers at him. “Pleasure doing business with you, son.”
I throw my sneaker at the door after he leaves, emitting an exasperated roar as I strip out of my clothes and change into my running gear. I need to let off steam before I self-combust.
I head out into the dark streets and pound the roads, only returning after I’ve expended all my pent-up aggravations and my legs are close to collapsing. I’m dripping with sweat as I climb into the shower and attempt to wash away the frustrations of the day. After I have changed into clean sweats, I slip my slides on and go in search of Mom.
I find her in the theater room, passed out on one of the reclining chairs with her fingers still clutching a near-empty vodka bottle. Prying it from her clutches, I set it down on the ground and grab her cell phone before scooping her into my arms. I carry her to her bedroom, hating how light she feels in my arms. At least she had a good home-cooked meal today, and I watched to ensure she ate a decent amount.
I slide her under the comforter in her dress and pantyhose, tucking the covers around her, before I head back downstairs to fetch her a glass of water and some pain pills.
I leave them on her bedside table, and I’m just about to exit her room when her cell vibrates with an incoming call, drawing my attention. Snatching it up, I swipe Mom’s finger across the screen and answer the call from her one and only friend. “Dana,” I whisper as I creep out of Mom’s room. “It’s Vander. Mom’s sleeping.”
“Hey, Van. I am glad you answered. I’ve been calling your mom for days.”
Dana was Mom’s best friend in college, and she’s the only one she has kept in contact with over the years. Last I heard, she was living in Europe with her second husband, and Mom hasn’t seen her in years. “I’ll get her to call you back tomorrow.”
“Please do. I wanted to let her know I got divorced and I’m back in the US. I bought a house in Vermont, and I was hoping she would come and visit me. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
An idea forms in my mind. If I can get Mom away from Dad for a while, he can’t force me to date Gayle Turner while he works to win her father’s account. “That sounds like a great idea, Dana,” I say. “Mom could use a vacation. Send me the details, and I’ll organize everything. I’ll message you with the time her plane lands.”
22
VANDER
“Why aren’t you dressed?” Dad asks, his nostrils flaring as he barges his way into my room the following night. I’m sitting at my desk in jeans and a hoodie, anticipating the moment he’d come looking for me. “And where is your mother? We can’t be late.”
“Mom’s on vacation,” I say, smothering a smile as I stand. “And I’m not going. You can tell Miles Turner to go fuck himself.” I straighten up Dad’s tie before he can stop me. “You should bring your latest whore. Give her as a peace offering to Gayle’s dad. I’m sure that’ll soothe his ruffled feathers.”
Dad shoves me away, and I laugh. “What did you do, you little punk?” His hands reach to wrap around my neck, but I grab him by the wrists with one hand while I land a solid punch to his solar plexus with the other. A strangled sound rips from his throat as he doubles over, clutching his stomach.
“I swear it’s like you want me to give you another black eye,” I taunt. “Your last one has only just healed.”
“Where. Is. Your. Mother?” he growls, straightening up and rubbing his stomach. His carefully styled dark hair is all messed up, and his freshly pressed white shirt is wrinkled. I get an inordinate thrill from seeing him disheveled, knowing it will piss him off.
“Someplace you won’t find her.” I made sure of it. I enlisted Jimmy to hire the private jet in his name, and West paid for it, using funds I wired to his bank account. I had to dip into my inheritance to cover the plane cost and to transfer money to Dana so Mom has enough to live on. I cut up all of Mom’s cards and made her promise not to go near her normal bank account. Dana is going to set her up with a new one on Monday.
I took a risk and filled Mom’s friend in on everything during our hour-long phone conversation last night. It seems Mom has confided some things in her over the years, but Dana didn’t realize it was this bad. Her first husband was abusive, so she has some experience she can relate to. I didn’t hold back in explaining how bad Mom’s addiction is, and she has promised to talk to Mom and try to get her to agree to go to rehab. Dana said Mom could stay with her for as long as she needs, and I’m hoping she’ll stay in Vermont until it’s time for me to leave for Connecticut. After that, it’s up to Mom. For now, this is the best thing I can do to help her.
Maybe Dana will be able to get through to her where I have failed.
“That’s what you think.” Dad sneers as he pulls out his cell phone.
“You won’t be able to locate her through her cell. She left it behind.” I smashed it to shit and gave her a burner cell instead because I have always suspected Dad had a tracking device on it. I bought myself a burner too, purely so I can use it to call Mom. I’m keeping it hidden under one of the floorboards at the carriage house. Protecting Mom’s location is of paramount importance because I don’t trust Dad won’t kill her for this even though I’m the one who forced her to leave.
If looks could kill, I’d be dead a hundred times by now. My father is bristling with rage. His entire body is shaking with anger as he glares at me. He knows he can’t do anything about it. If he comes at me, I will beat the shit out of his abusive ass. If he tries to retaliate, he knows he will push me away for good and all of his future plans for the legal practice will go up in flames. Perhaps it’s ill-advised to push him like this when I don’t have an offer from Yale yet, but the opportunity presented itself to get Mom out of state, and I jumped on it.
I have six months until I graduate, so I just need to ride it out until then.
“You’ll regret this, boy,” Dad says, waving his finger at me. “No one gets the better of Gregory Henley, especially not my own flesh and blood.” He stalks out of my room, and I watch him leave ten minutes later, from the living room, glad Mom is out of his reach but scared I may have poked a beast I have no chance of caging.
I return from the boxing club late on Saturday night and park my truck alongside the carriage house, peeking at the bright lights in my upper floor studio with a lump in my throat. I know I didn’t leave the lights on before I went out, which means I have an intruder. It could be Kendall. I gave her a key so she could come over anytime, and I wouldn’t have an issue with her being in my studio, but I don’t think she would enter it alone. Which means it’s my father.
I scramble out of the truck as that thought lodges in my brain and burst into the house. Dumping my bag on the floor, I take the stairs two at a time up to the second level.
After we moved here and I discovered this place, I claimed it for my own and converted the entire second floor into one large workspace where I can paint and draw to my heart’s content.
I slam to a halt at the sight of Kendall—sitting on the floor, in the center of my art studio, surrounded by tons of canvases, in various stages of completion, some hanging on the walls and others propped against it—with the most awestruck expression on her face.