“Yes. But the school doesn’t know that.”
Greer sighs, and I have to resist the urge to punch the steering wheel. Looks like I’ll be spending the weekend watching over a scrotie teen. You can bet I’ll be having a long chat with his dorm master about their lack of duty of care. I don’t hold the school responsible, to be honest. I snuck out often enough to know there’s not much they can do when a kid is determined to get away. Hopefully, by next weekend, his mother will be back to take care of him. Although, I don’t have much faith in that being a success either.
Tyrone’s mother, Cristal, lives in an enormous, glossy penthouse apartment. It looks like Versace decorated it himself. Not my style, but it suits her down to the ground. It’s clear Ty has been living it up while he’s been on his own. Empty bottles, takeaway containers, clothes and wet towels are scattered over the floor and the ugly, overpriced furniture.
As soon as Ty hits the shower, I call our father, expecting to leave a voicemail. He surprises me by answering.
“Josh, nice to hear from you, son.” I try and fail to hold back a snort of disbelief. He’s such a liar.
I don’t waste any time with small talk. After the weekend with my mother, I’m not inclined to give either of my parents the benefit of the doubt.
“I’ve just spent the morning with Tyrone. He was arrested for drink and drug driving and crashing his car last night.” I walk out onto the balcony. Greer doesn’t need to hear what I’m sure is about to go down.
“Jesus Christ! Why are you calling me? Can’t his mother deal with this?” Dad growls.
“As it happens, no. She’s overseas. I think you should come down.” The view from this balcony is million-dollar. Shame the apartment is all flash and no substance.
“For fuck’s sake, I can’t come flying down to Sydney every time that boy gets himself into trouble. Can’t you sort it out? Don’t you have a friend who’s a lawyer? Get him onto it. Let me know how much it costs, and I’ll send the money.” If it wasn’t so tragic, I’d laugh at the predictability of his response.
This is nothing more or less than I was expecting. Still, my stomach bottoms out with disappointment at knowing Dad hasn’t changed. And realising Ty has nobody but me, a virtual stranger, in his corner.
“Really, Dad? You can’t spare a couple of days to take care of your own son?”
“Not right now, no. I’m leaving on a cruise in two days. You spent enough time in a police station when you were his age. I’m sure you know how to handle it.” I flinch as his words hit home. That was low. Even for my father.
“You know what? Don’t worry about it. I’ve already got it covered. And you can keep your fucking money. I’ll cover that too.” I wish I could slam the phone down in his ear. Damn mobiles.
“Oh, and by the way, he’s fine, Dad. Not hurt in the accident. Thanks for asking.” I disconnect before I add, “Arsehole.”
Greer gives me a questioning look when I head back inside.
“I take it your call didn’t go well?”
“It went exactly how I expected,” is all I can manage to say as I start searching the apartment like a man possessed. I need to get rid of anything Ty can do damage with. Starting with his wallet, I take his credit and debit cards, then check his room for party drugs. It makes me laugh to realise kids haven’t yet come up with better hiding places than the ones we used as teens. I flush them all down the toilet in the powder room before gathering all the alcohol I can find—and there’s lots of it—and pouring it down the sink. Next, I grab his phone and check for spare keys to his car and his mother’s. I wouldn’t put it past him to take off.
“Are you sure all this is necessary?” Greer asks as she watches me put the empty bottles in the recycling bin.
“Absolutely. No alcohol, no drugs, no keys, no phone and no money. That should at least slow him down.” I’m speaking from personal experience, and I think she knows it. “Oh, could you check his bedside for condoms … on second thoughts, don’t. I’ll do it.” Then I realise it’s probably better to leave them. The last thing we need to add to this shit soup is an unexpected pregnancy.
“I’m going to have to stay with him for the weekend,” I sigh.
“Of course you are. You can’t leave him alone.”
“You take my car home, Greer. I’ll grab an Uber to drop him at school tomorrow night and work out how to get your car back to you. I don’t expect you to hang around.”
She’s already gone above and beyond by being here this long. Especially after how we left things the last time we spoke.
“I’m not leaving you alone with him. You might need help. You can’t leave him unsupervised. What if he tries to sneak out while you’re in the shower?”
It feels good to laugh. “Now you’re getting the idea.”
“Besides, you’re going to need help cleaning this mess up. I’m happy to stay. Be your deputy.”
I’m torn. I know I should tell her to go. It’s not fair to expect her to spend her weekend playing babysitter. As usual, the selfish side of me wins over. And I can’t deny having her here is making this whole mess a little less unpalatable.
“Thanks, Greer. I owe you big-time.” Yet again. The favour balance is really starting to stack up on her side.
“That’s what friends do, right?” Our eyes lock, and I know she’s referring to what I said about being friends. It hurts it can’t be more.
