The line rings once. “Fucker. I’ve been calling your ass. Don’t ever ignore me.”
The last thing I want is to get angry. It’s Sunday, a day I usually kick back and hang with Mom and Phoebe. I don’t want to raise any red flags with them. Mom is as perceptive as me, and Phoebe is pretty alert too, but I’m fucked if he’s going to speak to me like that.
“Nice game yesterday,” Ray says, losing his punk attitude. “You’ve got one hell of an arm, boy.” I wonder if he means that, or he’s just letting me know he checked me out.
The second win of the season is a high I’m still riding today. Carter, Garrett, and I celebrated last night at the pool hall along with other teammates. Sadly, the frat houses didn’t throw any parties this weekend. I was hoping one did, and maybe I could’ve run into Emily again.
“I’m not your boy.” I grit my teeth.
“You are whatever I fucking tell you you are, at least for the next three months,” Ray announces like he’s a proud father. “You did well last week.”
Suddenly, regret worms its way through me. I probably shouldn’t have put a timeline on our deal. “Why the fuck did you drop me off like a piece of trash?”
He belts out a laugh. “I wanted to see what you were made of.”
I squint as the sun filters in through my window. “A warehouse party was going down that night. Surely, you knew that.”
“Maybe, but strung-out junkies don’t buy when they’re stoned. They’re too busy enjoying the high. I wanted to see what you would do. Besides, you need a glimpse of what you’re in for. You might’ve sold drugs for Donnie years ago, but the world is much different now, and you don’t seem like the type to get your hands dirty.”
Fuck off is on the tip of my tongue, but I refrain from telling him that. “I’ll bring your money by tonight.”
“Good. I’ve given you a week to consider it, so, tell me, do you still want in?” His tone grates on my nerves, but I shove my annoyance aside. Ray is a necessary evil. One I’ll just have to get used to. I briefly debate whether to renegotiate my employment time frame, but I could make decent bank in three months’ time.
Phoebe comes out of the house, her brown ponytail swishing behind her. “Adam.” She beams at me, and my heart melts.
“I’m in. I’ll be by later.” I end the call, not giving a shit about Ray.
I hop out of the car as Phoebe jumps into my arms. “You shouldn’t be outside,” I chastise.
She hugs me. “I’m fine. You worry too much.”
“And you don’t worry enough.” I swallow thickly as I hug the bravest girl I know. “Too many germs out here.” I set her on two feet. “You should’ve waited inside.”
“It’s cool. I’m on antibiotics still.” She runs ahead of me, and I can’t stay mad at her. Some days, I love that she’s laid-back about it. She doesn’t get a chance to be a normal kid, and on those days, I think it’s good she can be carefree. Other days, I get frustrated at how flippant she is, because this shit is serious, and I want her to treat it as such.But what do I really know?She’s the one with the illness. I don’t get to dictate how she is.
When we’re inside, Mom greets me with a smile. Her brown eyes appear tired and so much despair is oozing off her.
My heart splinters into tiny pieces, and I hate she’s going through all this stress again.
After I unloaded the bags of Molly, and my encounter with Emily, I contemplated whether to continue. But one look at Mom, and the answer is a big fat no.
I need to do this.
At least until she can find a new job. Even then, her job won’t pay the outstanding hospital bill. Phoebe had X-rays and drugs and a two-day stay. That adds up to thousands of dollars, for sure, and someone’s got to pay it.
Phoebe kneels next to Sam, grinning at him like he hung the moon. Her jewelry kit is strewn across the coffee table, bringing a smile to my face. The TV is on, but the sound is muted.
“Come on, Adam,” Phoebe urges, waving me forward. “I’ve been waiting for you to make these cool beaded bracelets. I got some new colors. Maybe you can make one for a girl,” she teases, her eyes sparking with hope.
I strut over to Phoebe and kiss her on the head. “Love bug, how many times do I have to tell you you’re my only girl.”
Sam says, “Mine too.”
He and I didn’t finish talking about Emily although the blue-eyed beauty has taken up a permanent home in my head. I jerked off in the shower again this morning envisioning me inside her. It’s becoming a problem. One I’m not sure how to fix.
I playfully mess up Phoebe’s hair. “I want to talk to Mom for a bit. Then I’ll join you. Okay?”
Sam is threading a string with beads, and it’s comforting how he fits in with my family and how much he adores Phoebe.
