Tied - Part One (11 page)

She didn’t make it sound like a question.

“I just got here,” I said slowly.

“I thought we could cook together. Eat at home. Have a nice quiet night in.” That was code for “you cook.” But I didn’t feel like arguing. It was easier to fall right back into my old routine. I took the list and borrowed her car.

I hadn’t been away for long enough yet. It definitely still felt like home, and I wasn’t sure if it would ever change. Part of me worried that I’d end up right back here again. Mom would call and I’d give in. This whole New York thing, the apartment, the jobs, Lockett - suddenly it all felt temporary, and very far away.

○●○●○●○●○

My mom dropped the bomb that I was waiting for after dinner. I cooked while she and Mike sat in the kitchen, drinking beer and updating me on the local news and neighborhood drama.

I only listened with half an ear. My mind wandered back to the apartment, back to Lockett. What was he doing? Was he thinking of me? I shouldn’t let my emotions get involved, I knew, I’d as much as said that I wouldn’t. But it was hard to do - no one had ever made me feel the way I’d felt. No one had made me quake like that - inside and out.

It’s still just lust
, I told myself,
Still just the post-sex haze
.

It would have been easier to believe that if I hadn’t started feeling these things outside of his bedroom.

“Big Mike lost his job,” Mom reported as soon as we’d settled down to eat.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I knew where this was going. She’d said as much on the phone the last time I’d spoken to her - she needed some of her bills covered.

“We need you to keep paying some of those bills,” Mom said.

“Yeah. You said that.” I put down my fork, no longer hungry. “I can cover you this month but if I don’t have better luck getting full-time work, I won’t be able to help you.”

She slammed down her silverware and straightened up in her chair, ready to start bellowing. I steeled myself. “Do you want me to live in this house without electricity? Do you want me to lose my home?!”

“Lose the house? How?”

“I took out a second mortgage, Katherine, I told you this.”

“You didn’t.” I gestured at Big Mike. “Can’t he help you pay? He can’t find another job?”

Big Mike was silent throughout the exchange, looking between us as he ate. He didn’t even reply to my questions about him.

“He can’t right now,” she insisted, “Do you want me to lose my house, Katherine? After everything I’ve done for you, you can’t do this for me?”

“Why don’t you get a smaller apartment instead?” I suggested gently. The house was great before the divorce, when there were four of us living in it. Now it seemed way too big, despite the amount of space Big Mike apparently needed.

“This is my home!” she howled. “You want me to leave my home? This is the house you grew up in! You want to just throw this all away?”

No. But, yes
. All I wanted was for her to back off a little. To need me just a little less, maybe to actually
care
about me a little more.
You can’t change people
, I reminded myself. I knew this. Patrick had practically made me recite it when I’d cried to him about my issues at home.

“I’ll do what I can,” I said, dropping my head. “I’ll send what I can. You might need to let me move back in if you need this much help, though, Mom, I can’t make rent and support this house at the same time.”

I thought of everyone else she could bully into helping her. Her brother, my father. She didn’t bother calling up Alexa and asking for a few dollars. Just me. It was always me.

“Well,” she said, “We’ll see.” That meant there’d be another fight the next month, either way.

But there was only so much I could do. No matter how much I wanted to help or how much I was bullied into doing - I couldn’t give her what I didn’t have.

I’d caved too much already, anyway.

○●○●○●○●○

The stress got to me. Her callous attitude, Big Mike’s mere presence, their drinking and cackling at the television - I couldn’t stand another moment in their presence. “I’m going to bed,” I announced.

My old room had turned into the beginnings of a man cave since I’d left, so I shut myself away in Alexa’s old room, currently the guest room.

And I paced.

And I twisted my hands. They trembled, and I clenched my jaw.

Shit
.

It wasn’t good for me to be so on edge. I hated feeling so angry and so helpless. So used.

I waffled over whether or not to get in touch with Lockett that night. I wanted to hear his voice; I could have used a little of his confidence right then.

Instead I thought about sending him a text but I didn’t know what to say. He’d all but said that he wasn’t good at emotional stuff so I didn’t want to vent about what was going on, but it would have been nice to contact a friendly face.

Finally I decided to keep it light and wrote, “Tell your fish I miss his face.” Who knew when I’d get a response - he wasn’t a heavy phone user. But I felt better after sending it.

I thought about calling Alexa but I didn’t want to trouble her with everything that was going on. It was something that had come between us before - she’d tell me to extract myself from the situation, I’d resent her for not being more involved, we’d fight, and that would be that.

In the end I settled for calling Patrick.

“Hey,” he said. He answered the phone right away, like he always did for me. “What’s up?”

My voice cracked as I said, “Nothing.” Just hearing him, hearing someone who was friendly and on my side, finally cracked my composure.

“Aww, honey. Are you at your Mom’s?”

“Yeah.” I wiped my eyes before they could spill over. “Sorry. I’m okay. She’s just giving me a hard time about money, and I…”

“I know. It’s a lot of pressure. Katherine, what else is going on? She hasn’t upset you this badly in a long time.”

“She did just kick me out.”

“Which is a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” I took a deep breath, the lump in my throat finally dissipating. “Yes. I know.”

“Is something else going on?”

I thought about Lockett, then.
He
was going on. He was a source of uncertainty - but also a source of incredible pleasure. “Nothing else,” I said, “I’m okay. I just… had a moment. Thank you, Patrick.”

“Of course. You can call me any time, you know that.” He still sounded concerned and I felt bad for lying. But I also knew what he would say about Lockett. I knew he would tell me to cut it out, cut him off, focus on more important things.

I didn’t want to hear it.

“Talk when I’m back in the city?” I asked.

“You sure you don’t want to get together tonight?”

I checked the time - it was after ten. Not very late, but probably late for him. Especially if he’d seen his kids during the day. “No, I’m fine, but thanks for offering.”

“All right. Talk to you soon.”

I felt bad when I hung up. I hated to lie to him, I knew that his advice was only meant to help me in the long run.

But I wasn’t ready to give up on Lockett. Not just yet. Maybe not for a while. I shivered. I was definitely sinking too far.

But it felt so damn good.

CHAPTER 10

I wrote my mother a handful of checks the next morning. I ground my teeth with each signature. Electricity bill. Cable bill. Mortgage.
She kicked me out!
I screamed in my head.
I don’t even live here!

I pictured my bank account draining like a punctured gallon of milk - bubbling and gurgling, the level of the liquid getting lower and lower.

“Is that everything?” I asked, pushing the last check across the table to Big Mike. He stuffed it into the last envelope.

“I think so,” he said.

“That’s it if you want us to starve,” Mom said.

I slammed my checkbook shut at that. “I know you aren’t down to your last dime, Mom. I know it. Please cut me a little slack.”

“We’ll be fine, Bev,” Big Mike said, looking between the two of us.

She mumbled acquiescence, and I sighed with relief. It would be short-lived. She’d need more. But hopefully I’d be working a little more before the next cycle of bills.

My phone buzzed with a text that brought me back to a happier place. “The fish wants to know when he can watch Round 2.”

I smiled. I wasn’t sure that a second night together would be such a great idea but knowing that he wanted it did wonders for my ego.

I spoke to Alexa on the phone on the train ride back to the city that afternoon. She was in Atlantic City for an extra night with Mallet after some big fight. He’d won a little money so they were staying in a hotel and living it up.
They ought to be saving it
, I thought. But that wasn’t their way.

“How’s Mom and the boyfriend?” she asked.

“They’re fine. I think they’re doing pretty okay. She hasn’t scared him off yet, at least.”

“Yeah? They didn’t want anything from you?”

“No,” I said mildly.

“Mmhmm.”

“Alexa,” I sighed, “Come on.” I hated that she could see through my lie so easily. “You don’t know what its like, you ran off as quickly as you could. She doesn’t pressure you. You could at least not give me a hard time.”

“Pardon me for giving a shit about you,” she grumbled, “If you want to keep letting her use you, that’s your business.”

“Exactly. It’s my business.” What was I doing? I didn’t want to fight with her. I released a breath. “I didn’t meant to snap at you.”

“It’s fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut next time.”

“Please do.”

We said tense goodbyes before hanging up. I squeezed the phone in my hand, having nowhere else to channel my frustration. It was so easy for her to just do what she wanted and advise me to do the same. She didn’t have Mom guilting her at every turn. Maybe she could let it all roll off her back, but I wasn’t like that. She could skip off and have fun and build a life for herself.

I couldn’t. I was too much of a pushover, and I was too damaged. That, I’d brought on myself. I had to keep reminding myself of Patrick’s words and holding on tight.
You’re strong. The dust will settle. You’ll be okay
.

At least, I tried to remind myself of what Patrick had said. I tried to imagine what he would say right then, while I sat there feeling sorry for myself.

Instead my mind kept drifting back to Lockett. Rob Lockett - fighter, family man, sex god. Record collector. Fish owner. The most arrogant man I’d ever met.

So wrong for me. Wrong in every way.

I couldn’t wait to get home and see him.

○●○●○●○●○

Alexa had warned me that there might be a small gathering at the apartment when I got in. One of Lockett’s buddies had won some local fight and they’d decided to get the guys together and “drink all the beer and whiskey in Queens,” as Alexa had put it.

I didn’t particularly want to be surrounded by a bunch of booze and drunk people after the weekend I’d had, but I did want to see Lockett. And to get close to him. And to touch him. Nothing would work out my frustrations like another night with him.

So screw it
, I told myself. I could hear the party as I stepped out of the elevator. The neighbors couldn’t have been too happy but it wasn’t all that late yet. I wheeled my little suitcase down the hall to our door, determined to get him alone. Maybe it was reckless of me. Maybe I’d end up being hurt in the end after all.

But for another night with him, it would be worth it.
Just don’t get attached. If I do get attached, well…
I had no answer to that.

It was probably too late, anyway.

Anxious, tingling with anticipation, I entered our apartment. I was greeted by a couple of cheers from two guys hanging out near the door - strangers. Probably fighters, from the looks of them.