Beautiful Burn (The Maddox Brothers #4) (7 page)

“I know,” I said through my teeth. “Leaving someone else in charge of my fate has always been your go-to.”

He winced, and my mother guided him out and down the hall. Sally stayed behind with a smug smile on her face.

“You can go,” I said, looking at the window across the room where, only half an hour before, Finley and I had been admiring Paige’s beauty and discussing how I shouldn’t ruin her.

“You can call your parents, Ellison. But not to torture them. Not to beg. Not to try to change their minds. I will be with them for the next three months. Your phone bill has been transferred to your name and responsibility. You have a basic package until you can afford more, so use it wisely.”

I turned to her, hoping to kill her with my glare. “Why are you still here?”

“It is important that you use this time to better yourself. This is going to be life-changing for you, Ellie. Take advantage. What your parents are doing is the hardest thing they’ve ever done, and they’re doing it because they love you.”

“Oh my God, Sally. You’re right. I’m cured.”

Sally breathed out a laugh. “I’m glad to see you’ve maintained a sense of humor.”

“That wasn’t humor, imbecile; it was sarcasm. You can fuck right off with my gullible parents, you greedy, scheming snake.”

“Best to you, dear. I do hope we’ll talk soon.”

“I hope you text my parents asking for money, two seconds too long before looking up and being hit head-on by a truck full of toxic waste.”

Sally didn’t look appalled, but sad, turning for the door without another word. She spoke softly with my parents, Maricela, and José before the front door closed and their car headed for the gate.

I pounded my fists against the mattress, screaming as loudly as I could. The words coming from my mouth didn’t even make sense, and I couldn’t remember what was said from one sentence to the next, but I had no choices, and it was the only thing to do.

I rushed down the hall to Finley’s room. Her bed was made, her room empty, her luggage gone.

“What the fuck?” I said, running back to my room for my phone. I dialed Finley’s number.

She answered right away. “Ellie? Oh my Christ, honey, I’m in the car with Marco. They barely gave me time to get dressed. Maricela had my things packed and sitting next to the door when I got back to my room.”

“They kicked you out, too?”

“No. They want me to leave for Sanya. They said you need time alone.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m in a time-out?”

Finley grew quiet. “What are you going to do? Mother said you’re cut off.”

“I … I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I guess … I guess I…” If I asked Finley for money, I would be as pathetic as every putrid mule we’d bitched about since puberty.

“They’ve forbidden me to help you,” Finley said, sounding defeated. “But I left all the cash I had in my nightstand. I think it’s eight or nine hundred. She’s taken your passport and frozen all of your accounts. I’m so sorry.”

“Did you know this was going to happen? Is that why you came home?”

“Of course not. You’re my sister, Ellie…”

“It’ll be okay. Thanks for the cash. When they stop being mad, they’ll feel bad and change their minds.”

“No,” Finley said softly. “They’ve turned over control to Sally.”

“That’s ridiculous. Not even possible.”

“They’ve signed a contract. Sally has to sign off on all monies or services extended to you. That’s what Mother told me. I don’t know what they’re going to do if you don’t find an apartment. Sally was talking about shelters in Estes Park.” I’d never heard Finley sound afraid before.

“That’s just … absurd. Once Daddy abandons this bullshit intervention, he’ll tell Sally to kick rocks. He loves me more than his own conscience, more than Mother—definitely more than a goddamn contract with a wannabe therapist.”

“Exactly. He loves you more than anything, Ellie. More than his guilt or pride, or your anger. More than me.”

“That’s not true, Finley. You’re the good daughter.”

“And you’re the one who requires the most attention.”

My chest ached. It was the truth, which made it that much more painful. I didn’t know Finley thought of me that way, and her opinion was the only one that mattered to me.

She continued like she hadn’t just ripped out my heart. “It’s too early to call, but I wouldn’t count on their help anytime soon. They’re serious this time. You’ve gone too far.”

“You have to talk to them.”

“I’ve tried. I’ve tried to talk to you, too, if you’ll remember.”

“Fin. You’re my sister. Help me.”

She paused for several seconds, and then sighed. “I am.”

Even though Finley couldn’t see me, I nodded, and then touched my fingers to my lips. She was right, but that didn’t make it fair. There were less dramatic ways for my parents to make their point.

“Have a good trip,” I said.

“I’m so sorry, Ellie.”

“Yeah,” I said, pressing the
END
button. The phone fell from my palm onto the bed. I looked out the window at the snow blowing off the trees.
Get a job? I have a degree in ceramics. Where in the fuck am I going to get a job in Estes Park?

CHAPTER FIVE

“I said no,” I said, picking at the wood on Sterling’s monstrosity of a dining room table.

“It’s perfect for you,” Sterling said, sipping his third glass of red wine. He was still licking his wounds from our night with Finley. Contrary to what he’d said when he’d invited me over, Sterling wasn’t the least invested in ideas for me to find a job in Estes Park.

“A bartender?” I said. “The people in this town know who I am—most of all the bartenders. They will laugh me out of the building if I go looking for a job. They won’t believe that I need one.”

“They can’t discriminate against you, Ellie. If you’re qualified more than anyone else who’s applied, they’ll have to give it to you.”

“That’s not how this works. They hire grandsons and nieces in this town. And, no. Not a bartender. I just got kicked out of Turk’s. They’ll be afraid I’ll drink up their stock. Especially now that José has been ordered to remove all the liquor from the house.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I grumbled.

“What the hell did you do, Ellie? It can’t be worse than the time you—”

“It wasn’t. A painting was broken. A few vases and a table. Some vomit on the floor … nothing the cleaning crew couldn’t handle.”

“Then it’s not about the money.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re fucked. They’re not trying to teach you responsibility or appreciation, Ellison. They’re trying to save you from yourself. Betsy March’s parents did the same thing to her. You have no way out of this. You might as well give in or end it all now.”

My mouth fell open. “You are an unbelievable asshole.”

He took another sip of wine. “People keep saying that. I’m inclined to believe it.”

I looked up at him, my cheeks already burning from humiliation. “You don’t need a … um … an assistant or anything, do you?”

“Me? Fuck no. I already have four. Oh. You mean … hire you?”

My eyes fell to the floor. “Only if you need one. I don’t want charity.”

“It would never work, Ellie.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends, and I want to continue to be friends.”

“You just told me to kill myself.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Fine.”

He pointed at me. “That’s why.”

I frowned. “What are you talking about now?”

“You didn’t even put up a fight. I said ‘no,’ and you folded. I don’t want a pussy working for me. I was raised with more nannies than I have assistants. One to wipe my ass, one to wash my hands, one to feed me, one to play with me during the day, and one to wake up with me at night. There were more. I don’t remember their names. But my favorite? Beatrice. She was meaner than a cat with a firecracker in its ass, and I loved it. No one else talked to me like that. I need people who aren’t afraid to tell me the truth. You can, but you can’t, and we remain friends.”

I sighed, and then nodded, already bored with his speech. He did love to hear himself talk.

Sterling tossed the paper at me, leaned across the table, and turned to the classifieds. There were already red circles in the
Help Wanted
section.

“Mail sorter,” I said, reading his suggestions. “McDonald’s.” I looked up at him. He held up his hands. “Bank teller. I’m broke, and you think it’s a good idea that a pot head without money for pot works at a bank?”

He shrugged, standing up and heading for the bar. “I’m trying. You need a drink.”

“Desk clerk for a hotel. Nights. Checking guests in and out, light cleaning, and putting out continental breakfast.” I looked up at Sterling. “They pay people fifteen dollars an hour to do this?”

“It’s a tourist town. They can’t get people to work for minimum wage even at minimum wage jobs. The cost of living is too high.”

“There’s nothing else?”

“An assistant at the local magazine.” He chuckled. “
The
MountainEar
,” he said in a mocking tone. “Guess who owns it?”

“Philip Edson?” I snorted.

“Nope, this is one your father doesn’t own. It’s the new endeavor of J.W. Chadwick, the owner of Turk’s. He’s not going to hire you. There’s also a server position at the resort, but you’d be dealing with dicks like us all day.”

I covered my face, letting the paper fall to the table. “This is what I get for majoring in something I knew wasn’t going to come with the expectation of a job. They’ve fucked me. My parents have fucked me.”

“You’ve fucked yourself. Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing.”

I pulled a wadded one hundred dollar bill from my pocket and tossed it on the table. “This is all I have left.”

“They left you one hundred dollars?”

“No, they left me nothing. Fin left me eight hundred forty dollars. I drank it all.”

“You’re not just a lush; you’re an irresponsible lush. You deserve this.”

“I hate you.”

Sterling winked. “Nah. You love me. I can tell you the ugly truth, and we still remain friends. That’s why I love you.” He put a tall glass of gin in front of me. “Drink up. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“I can’t apply for a job drunk.”

He held up a small white pill, and then placed it on the table, pushing it toward me. “We’re not applying for jobs today. Today, we’re saying goodbye to Ellison Edson the rich bitch, and hello to Ellie the blue-collar worker.”

“Eat shit and die, Sterling.”

He popped his own pill, washing it down with wine. I looked down at the table, turning the chalky white oval with my fingers. He was right. I wasn’t going to find a job today.

I threw the pill to the back of my throat, not caring what it was, just hoping it would take effect quickly. I gulped the gin until my throat burned, and then looked at Sterling, wiping my mouth. “This is going to get ugly.”

“It always does with us,” he said, taking another drink.

I woke up on the floor, naked and barely covered with a tablecloth. Sterling was my pillow, his bare thigh against my cheek. I sat up, wiping my mouth, tasting salt and gagging.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, looking at his naked body sprawled on the floor.

He didn’t look like Sterling, with the clean-shaven jaw I was used to. His face had begun to darken with whiskers, and his typically slicked coif had pulled free from the gel meant to keep each strand in place. He was no different from anyone else I’d left in my path, messy and ruined, but the sight of him was the physical manifestation of rock bottom—the man my sister loved lying naked on the floor, a mixture of our sweat still glistening on his skin.

Bile rose in my throat, and nausea overwhelmed me. I hadn’t thrown up after a day of drinking since junior high. The feeling caught me off guard.

I crawled on the floor to reach my clothes, pulling each piece of fabric to my chest. I breathed out a quiet cry and felt tears burn my eyes.
Finley.

She would never forgive me—she’d never forgive us. I tried to remember what had happened. The sun was already behind the mountaintops, the sky getting darker by the second. Sterling and I had been fucking for hours, but I didn’t remember any of it.

Groggy and humiliated, I collected my clothes, pulling on my bra, shirt, damp panties—more nausea—and then my pants, feeling the coldness of the cotton against my skin. I gagged again, and then ran down the hall to the bathroom. My stomach heaved, and mostly wine and liquor splattered against the door. I pressed my lips together and let my cheeks bulge out, holding in the rest just long enough to lift the lid on the toilet. What seemed like gallons of alcohol burned my nose and throat as it came up and gushed into the toilet. The toilet water sprayed my face, and I closed my eyes, sobbing.

Once it was over, I stood up, washed my hands and face, rinsed my mouth, and tried to rinse mystery chunks from my hair. I looked in the mirror. The girl looking back was unrecognizable. She was gaunt, with dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. She was a junkie. Finley was right. Living this way was going to kill me.

I padded down the hall, picking up the wadded cash and my snow boots on the way.