All In (7 page)

“Bullshit, you would never call dad,” he laughed.

“You bet your ass I would,” I crossed my arms. “Fucking try me, Chase,”

“Fine, I will pay for the damn tattoo. But I swear to God, Harlow if you say one word to dad, I will kill you,” he warned, pointing his finger in my face. He would, too. He could give two shits about me.

“I am not finished yet,” I started. “And-”

“And what, Harlow?” Chase glared at me.

“And, you will not say a damn word about my working for you at Nostalgia, or that you are my brother. Do you understand me? So help my God, I will tell dad everything and you know as much as I do that he will shut all of your shit down and take you back to Malibu with him,” His eyes went wide at my threat. The last thing he wanted was to go back home with dad.

“I was a little upset that you stooped to Jackson. Though I have got to hand it to you, sis. I’m impressed. Apparently, deception runs in the family,” he smirked before turning around, heading into the shop.

I felt my heart drop a thousand feet below ground. I swallowed the sudden lump of reality in my throat. He was right. I tried to keep the troubled look off of my face as I walked in behind Chase. Vice was leaning up against the reception desk, his arms crossed waiting for us to finish talking. He didn’t look at Chase not once. His eyes stayed fixed on me. I stared him in the eyes trying to decipher which I saw more of… confusion, or hurt? Today, I have officially died twice.

“Pay Vice, Chase,” I demanded quickly. “There is nothing to say, pay him. Now,”

Vice looked incredibly confused at mine and Chases interaction. “How exactly do you two know each other?” he pointed between the both of us.

“Here,” Chase took his wallet out, giving Vice what looked like a thousand dollars. My threat proved to be successful. I have to say that I was thankful Chase ignored Vice’s questioning our relationship. I couldn’t handle dying three times in one day.

“See you on Saturday, Vice,” Chase put his sunglasses on and rushed out the door to his red Ferrari. I heard him start the engine and peel out of the parking lot.

“Let’s go, Vice,” I grabbed my purse and went to grab his hand. He pulled away from me.

“What the hell was that, Harlow?” he asked sullenly, searching my eyes for an answer.

“I told him to give you the money he owes you,” I am trying to skate through this by not necessarily telling lie after lie. At least I could try to tell him most of the truth, just not all of it.

“I got that part, apparently. But, I feel like there is a huge piece of this missing,” his eyes were sad.

“Look,” Ah, don’t make me lie. “I threatened to expose him for the dirty rotten things that he does to people.”

“You what!?” he exasperated a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair. “Why would you do that, Harlow?”

“He is a horrible person, Vice. I hate seeing him hurt people,” I said truthfully. Especially seeing him hurt Vice. My Vice.

“Why is it that what he does bothers you? I mean yes, he bothers me, too. Yes, he hounds me, and yes, I truly hate the guy. But to be honest, I really could care less what he does to me or anyone else for that matter as long as he stays away from the people that I truly care about, and that is only three people in my life at the moment. You, my mother, and Skip. That’s not very many people, Harlow. You threatening him was not a good idea. The more he tries to get to me and I refuse, the more drive he will have to take what means the most to me away. That is how those kinds of people work,” he pursed his lips. “So, I want to know, how you know so much about this guy enough to threaten him? Moment of truth, how do you know Chase Miller?”

I fidgeted with my purse straps as I tried to come up with the closest thing to the truth that I could. “It’s my best friend’s brother,” I internally gasped at my answer. Okay, so we are a little bit closer to the truth. After all, we should be our own best friend, right?

“Did you ever date him?” he closed his eyes for a moment before staring into my eyes again. “Because truthfully, I couldn’t take it if I knew you slept with him. Please, tell me that you didn’t, Harlow,”

I took a few steps closer to Vice. I touched his cheek with my fingertips and was thankful that he didn't back away from me. “No, Vice. I have never dated Chase Miller, nor have I had any type of sexual contact with him. I promise,” I mentally gagged.

The ride back to Vice’s apartment bothered me, he was too quiet. The type of silence that makes you want to scream. I know deep down that it is my own insecurities caused from lying to him. I felt as though he was quiet because he was over thinking and figuring out my secrets in that gorgeous head of his. On the outside, I was staring out the window as if to take in the busy streets around me, the tall brightly lit signs that light up the Vegas strip. But inside, I was slowly dying for the third time today.

“What’s on your mind, Vice?” my voice, a pleasant sound to my ears cutting the silence.

“Contemplating on whether or not playing at Nostalgia will make Miller back the fuck off,” he sighed, staring at the red light ahead of us.

“I think you are doing the right thing by staying away from him,” my fingers fidgeted with the frayed jean of my skirt.

“I used to think so, too. But the more I refuse his invites, the more he is literally smothering me, Harlow,” The light turned green and he gassed it. “There has to be some kind of a breaking point,”

I nodded, turning my head to look back out the window at the passing buildings. A turning point, a turning point in which I am frightened. A turning point that involves my brother is never a good thing as ninety-nine percent of the time leads to something life altering.

The next hour seemed to fly by in slow motion. Vice barely ate the Chinese food we had ordered, and barely said three words during dinner. I could tell that this whole thing has occupied his mind and I had offered to leave a few times, but he then begged me to stay with a trillion apologies for his silence. As we sat at the dinner table, I searched my brain for the right words to say when Vice’s cell rang.

Without looking at the screen he answered it. “Yeah,”

I took our plates to the sink and could hear a female crying on the other end of the phone which caught my attention. I turned around quickly, Vice’s face was angry, and sad.

“I will be right there,” he sighed, ending the call then placing his phone back in his pocket.

“Who was that? Is everything, okay?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair.

“Not really,” he slowly shook his head, staring at the table. “Do you want to meet my mom?” he looked up at me.

I smiled. “I would love to meet your mom,”

I stood in the entry way waiting for Vice while he grabbed his check book, and his keys. Without asking, I knew why he was bringing his check book. He had told me that he takes care of his mom, monthly. I have never asked him why he has to take care of her as I am sure there could be a million reasons why. I know of very little bits and pieces, but I never pushed him much to tell me everything.

Within twenty minutes, we pulled up to an extremely run down trailer park on the opposite side of the city. Dirt instead of a street, stray cats and tumble weeds roaming the park, the trailers looking abandoned though they were occupied by families of all nations. The metal siding on the trailers coming loose, plastic and duct tape covering what were once windows. I was looking around when we pulled up to Vice’s mothers trailer. I was impressed that it was the nicest one out of all the trailers in the park. I was sure thanks to Vice, of course. The siding looked new, so were the windows. She actually had a lush green lawn, and a row of flowers lining the wooden steps to the wooden deck and front door.

“This is nice,” I grabbed Vice’s hand as we walked toward his mothers trailer.

“I try to have a little bit here and there done for her, make things nicer,” he squeezed my hand tightly then suddenly stopped walking, pulling me back. “Harlow,”

“What’s up?” He looked incredibly uncomfortable, running his free hand through his hair with a huff.

“I am going to apologize before hand for my mom,” he grabbed my other hand.

“If you aren’t ready for me to meet her yet, Vice it’s okay, I understand. I will wait in the car if you want me to,” I reassured him.

“No, I want you to come in,” he stepped closer to me. “If we are going to be together, I want you to see the other side of me. The other side of my life, no secrets. You will know everything about me, then you can decide if I am someone you truly want in your life,”

“Vice,” I looked him in the eyes. “No matter what your mother has done, or will do with her life, she gave you to me and I respect her for that. You are a good person and I want you no matter what your past is, okay?” And I had officially died for the third time in one day. He kissed me softly, then pulled away with a smile.

“Okay,” he led the way. “Let’s go meet my mom,”

We walked up the creaky steps to the door. “This is my next project,” he joked.

“Hey, it gives the place character,” I added watching my step.

“My mom is plenty character for this place, trust me,” he placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it slow.

When he opened the door, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke choked me. Not that I wasn’t used to the smell working in a casino, but in his mothers trailer with no ventilation system, it was overwhelming. I held back a cough as we walked inside. I could hear his mother crying.

“Who is that, Vice?” her raspy voice exhaled, releasing the drag of cigarette.

“This is Harlow, mom,” he stepped out from in front of me. Sitting at the kitchen table was a swollen eyed, petite woman with dyed black hair, and tan skin. A box of the cheapest wine sat upon the table that was connected to the trailer wall, her glass half full. She picked it up and placed it to her thin lips, drinking the entire contents.

“Mom, that’s enough, please,” he took the glass and the box from the table setting them on the counter away from her.

“Fancy meeting you,” she said politely with a little warning in her eyes. Vice had the same eyes as his mother. Besides the premature aging that alcohol, smoking, and God only knows what else caused, Vice looked just like her.

“Nice to meet you, Miss. Jackson,” I reached my hand out to shake hers, she just stared at me. I reluctantly pulled my hand back, confused at her rude nature. Vice was nothing like her.

“Don’t be rude,” he sat at the table and pulled a chair out for me to sit next to him. “She is a good person, mom,”

I took the seat next to him, his mom staring at me the entire time. She eyed me up and down closely.

“She’s pretty, Vice,” she looked over at her son, then actually smiled.

“She is beautiful,” he agreed. I grabbed Vice’s hand then squeezed it for reassurance that I wasn’t going anywhere.

“So what’s up?” he tried to grab her hand. She pulled her shaking hand away to grab her pack of cigarettes. She quickly held one to her lips and lit it.

“They want more money, Vice,” she blew her smoke into the air around us.

“Who?” he asked.

“Four Sons got bought out last week, the new bastards raised the lot space and rent,” she brought her shaky hand to her lips, then took another drag of her cigarette.

“Mom, I just paid over a thousand two weeks ago and that-”

“I know, son,” she exhaled. “They came to my door with a pay or quit notice this morning. They said pay another five hundred or I leave,” she shrugged, starting to cry.

“That is bullshit, mom. Fifteen hundred for this place!?” Vice pounded his fist on the table. “We are not paying fifteen hundred dollars a month. No way, I refuse to,” he shook his head vigorously. “I will move you to a nice apartment for that price mom,”

“This is my home, Vice,” she cried.

“I will find you a new home, one that doesn’t smell like mold, drugs, and cigarette smoke. One where those dirty bastard men you know can’t find you,” Vice was becoming angry.

“My home. This is my home,” she cried, placing her cigarette to her lips then pulling a drag.

“With all do respect Miss. Jackson, I understand what you are going through,” I said gently, hoping not to make her upset.

“Please,” she huffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “What would someone like you know about losing your home?”

“Mom!” Vice yelled. I squeezed his hand letting him know I was okay and to let it go.

“I know what it’s like to lose your home, Miss. Jackson, I do. My mother died five years ago when I was eighteen, and after squatting as long as I could because my father refused to pay the mortgage for such a large home when it was me and just my brother, the sheriffs came and removed me from my moms house. They had to restrain me as I kicked, screamed, and cried not wanting to leave the memories that were made there, but in all reality it was the best change I could have ever made. I moved on, and a fresh start is what I needed. It helped me move on from the loss of my mother, and if I never came here, I wouldn’t have met your son,” I slowly placed my hand on top of hers. Shockingly, she didn’t pull away from me. She turned her fragile, shaky hand and grabbed mine, squeezing tightly. “And, well… maybe, a change is what you need, Miss. Jackson. Sometimes what is best for us, doesn’t seem to be the best at first. I promise you… in the long run, it all makes sense.”

I felt Vice’s eyes on me. I looked over at him and it looked like he was going into cardiac arrest. I smiled at him when my heart started to race, it felt like it were going to explode as I was scared to say the wrong this to his mom and piss her off. I looked away from Vice and across the kitchen as it hit me. Vice’s words that he was speaking to his mother were becoming a distant echo in my ears as I started to panic. Without noticing, I stood up from the table and headed toward the door.

“Harlow, where are you going?” Vice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I closed my eyes for a moment before turning around. “My phone, someone is calling me. I’ll be right back if you would excuse me,” I smiled, trying to play off my panic.

“Just walk in when you’re done, babe,” he smiled back.