Angel of Redemption (32 page)

“
I thought you were going to have Claire call me!
”
my mother says in greeting.

“
Hi, Mom,
”
I say with fake enthusiasm.
“
Guess what? Andy and Claire just got
here. Talk to your daughter.
”
I thrust the phone at my sister, and she takes it
begrudgingly.

“
Hi, Mama,
”
she mumbles.

“
What the hell was that all about?
”
Andy asks as I flop down on the couch
next to him and steal his beer.

“
Claire has a new friend who hasn
’
t been through Richard
’
s rigorous screening process. She
wanted to go hang out, so she told her parents she was coming here to do a
project for school.
”

“
Oh, shit.
”

“
Uh-huh. So I
’
m making her do just that.
”

“
Kayla? What time are you going to bring me home?
”
Claire asks from the kitchen.

“
Ten,
”
I respond.
“
That
’
ll give us just enough time to make it look like she was
actually doing what she said she was doing,
”
I grumble under my breath.

“
You
’
re really going to cover for her?
”
The look of disapproval on Andy
’
s face is annoying.

“
This time, yes. She
’
s a good girl, Andy. Every kid tests the boundaries in
different ways. I survived college because I
’
d already worked all that shit out of
my system. Can you imagine what it
’
s going to be like for her when sh
e’
s suddenly given freedom? Surrounded
by alcohol, boys, and no curfews?
”

“
And you think you
’
re going to fix that by lying to your parents about where
she
’
s
been and what she
’
s
been doing?
”

“
I
’
m not fucking lying!
”
I snap.
“
That
’
s why she
’
s here.
”

Claire
approaches and Andy and I are forced to end our discussion. I don
’
t expect him to understand. He didn
’
t grow up with Richard.

Claire
really does have a social project due for school, so we work on it for the rest
of the time she
’
s at the house. At least we
’
re not wasting our time. At nine thirty,
she puts everything back in her bag and we head out.

When
I pull into the visitor parking of my mom and Richard
’
s penthouse, Claire starts crying.
Leaning over, I wrap my arms around her.

“
Hey, sweetie. I love you, okay? Don
’
t forget that. I
’
ll see what I can do. Maybe Mom
—
”

“
Please don
’
t, Kayla. Don
’
t say anything to her. She
’
ll just tell Daddy, and he
’
ll get mad.
”

I
purse my lips together. Sometimes I hate being a grown-up.
“
You can
’
t keep lying to them. It
’
s just going to land you in more
trouble. Trust me, I know.
”

Claire
sniffles. We get out of the car and are greeted kindly by the doorman. Claire
punches in the elevator code, and we begin to ascend. I haven
’
t seen my mother and Richard in
months. I
’
m
not really looking forward to it, but I know I
’
d get read the riot act if I didn
’
t hand-deliver their daughter to their
doorstep.

The
door is locked, and Claire uses her key to get in. I can hear the television
blaring in the living room. I think about just taking off, but before I get the
chance, my mother appears around the corner.

“
There you are. I was just wondering where you were.
”
She gathers Claire up in her arms. I
look at my watch. We
’
re right on time.

After
letting Claire go, my mother hugs me. It
’
s stiff and awkward. I have the urge to wrap my arms around
her and show her what hugging your child is supposed to feel like, but I don
’
t.

“
Hi, Mom.
”

“
You look tired,
”
she says, eyes scanning over me.

“
Thanks.
”

“
Oh, I have something to give you,
”
Mom chirps, motioning for me to
follow her. My lip curls. All I want to do is escape, but if I leave now, I
’
ll never hear the end of it.

When
we get to the kitchen, Richard is standing with a glass of red wine in his
hand. He
’
s
still wearing his suit, complete with tie, and his platinum-blond hair slicked
back. He doesn
’
t
smile, he doesn
’
t
nod. He simply stares at me. His icy glare tells me everything I need to know.
He
’
ll
get along with me because he has to, but I
’
m not going to be treated like family.

“
Hi, Richard,
”
I say cheerily, just to chafe his ass.

His
eyebrow arches. Claire looks back and forth between us. I have no idea how much
she remembers from when I lived with them. I hope it
’
s not much. There was a lot of
screaming
…
a lot of hatred.

“
Here,
”
my mother says, reaching out. In her hand is what looks
like a check.

“
What
’
s this?
”
I ask, looking down. I lose my breath when I see all the
zeros.
“
Five
grand?
”

“
For looking after Claire while we were gone,
”
she replies as if it
’
s the most natural thing in the world. I look at my sister,
whose eyes are wide. Obviously she didn
’
t know anything about this.
“
I would have given it to you before we
left, but
…”
She shrugs.
“
You couldn
’
t be bothered to wait the twenty
minutes for us to get back when you picked up Claire.
”

I
open my mouth and then close it again several times. I must look like a dying
fish. Claire always had a nanny growing up. She was considered staff
—
beneath the family. Richard always said babysitting was a
job for people with no real skills. I always knew that was bullshit, but pretty
much everything out of his mouth is, so I never really gave it much thought.
Until now. I have no idea how to take this. I knew that Richard never
considered me family, but is this how my mother feels, too? Am I nothing but a
nanny to her? Staff?

A
sudden wave of anger overtakes me and my entire body starts to shake. How dare
they make me feel like a fucking employee! I slam the check down on the granite
countertop, turn, and walk out.

“
Kayla!
”
my mother yells, but she doesn
’
t move to stop me.

“
Kayla?
”
Claire calls desperately as I reach the front door.

I
turn just briefly.
“
Call me, Claire. Call me whenever you need anything.
”

She
nods, and I leave.

The
pressure in my chest continues to build as I make my way to my car. It hurts.
The more I hold it back, the worse it gets. I practically run past the doorman
who says something I don
’
t hear. The second I slam my car door shut, all semblance
of control is lost. I buckle and sag into my seat, tears flowing freely. I
’
m a hiccuping, sobbing mess. What did
I do to make my mother hate me so much?

I
grab my purse, digging blindly for my cellphone. Hitting my call list, I scroll
through, searching for my brother
’
s
number. I want to call Dean. I want him to hold me. I want that intense feeling
I get when he touches me to run through my entire body and push all of this
hurt and anger out.

But
I can
’
t have him. He wants nothing to do
with me. He hasn
’
t called. He hasn
’
t texted. My eyes blur as another round of tears pour from
them. Why am I not good enough?

“
Hey. What
’
s up? You okay?
”

“
No,
”
I sniffle.
“
I need you.
”

Dean

“
Wait. Why? What happened?
”
My heart starts thumping rapidly in
my chest. I don
’
t
know whether to be worried or excited.

“
Just
…
come get me?
”
Kayla
’
s crying. Why is she crying?

“
Uh, okay. Where are you?
”

“
Dean?
”

“
Yeah.
”

“
Oh, shit! I thought I dialed Andy.
”

And
just like that, my excitement disappears. Now I
’
m just worried.

“
Kayla, what the hell is going on?
”

“
I, uh, I
’
m sorry. I was thinking about you and trying to call Andy
and I must have
…
I
’
m sorry. I
’
ll just
—
”

“
Calm down.
”
I
’
m trying to be soothing, but I
’
m not sure I
’
m coming across that way.
“
Tell me what
’
s wrong.
”

“
It
’
s nothing.
”

“
Bullshit. Are you crying?
”

“
No.
”
She hiccoughs loudly.

“
Yes, you are. Tell me what
’
s going on.
”
She doesn
’
t say anything. I
’
m getting really fucking worried.
“
Kayla!
”

“
No! The last time I told you something
personal, you shut me out and ignored me for three days,
”
she snaps.

Ah.
Right.

“
Shit. I know. I
’
m sorry. I didn
’
t mean to. I mean, that wasn
’
t my intent.
”

“
It doesn
’
t matter. I gotta go.
”

“
Kayla?
”
I plead.

“
I
’
m fine.
”

“
You
’
re not fine. Tell me where you are.
”

“
Outside The Carlyle,
”
she says softly.

“
Outside?
”

“
In my car.
”

“
I
’
ll be there in twenty.
”

I
don
’
t
give her a chance to say no. I end the call and put on my coat and shoes,
grabbing my keys from the countertop. I speed most of the way, praying I don
’
t get stopped.

When
I pull up outside the swanky highrise, I see Kayla
’
s car parked in one of the visitor
spaces. I pull up beside her and get out of the car. Her head is resting
against the wheel, almost as though she
’
s asleep. When I knock on her window, her head tilts to the
side toward me and I hear the car door unlock. I open the door and squat down
to her level.

“
Hi,
”
I say quietly.

“
Hi,
”
she whispers.

“
What
’
s going on?
”
It
’
s all I can come up with.

“
Nothing.
”

“
You wanna talk about why you
’
re hanging out in your car outside The
Carlyle?
”

She
shakes her head.
“
Not
really.
”

“
You just gonna stay here all night?
”

Her
eyes flicker to me.
“
I
’
ll move eventually.
”

I
’
m not going to get anywhere like this.
“
Come on, sweetheart. Come with me.
”

She
looks at me questioningly.

“
Come on.
”
I stand up and reach my hand out to her. She takes it
hesitantly and then steps out. She jumps when I slam the door.

“
But, my car
—
”

“
Don
’
t worry about it. We
’
ll come back and get it later.
”

“
Dean?
”

I
open the passenger side door to my car and wave my hand.
“
Just get in the car, Kayla. It
’
s fucking freezing out here.
”

She
does, and I close the door behind her, running around the car to get in.

“
Anyone ever tell you how bossy you are?
”
she mutters.

“
All the time,
”
I laugh.

“
Where are we going?
”

“
My place.
”

I
drive a lot slower on the way back to my apartment for several reasons. One, I
’
m not in as much of a hurry now that I
know Kayla
’
s
safe and two, I
’
m
embarrassed about the state of my apartment. Maybe I should have fixed things
up a little over the years, but I was always afraid I
’
d get robbed so I never bothered. Or
maybe my mom was right and I should have moved completely. But living in this
apartment keeps my head on straight. It reminds me of the things I
’
ve done
—
the choices I made.

I
also have no idea what I
’
m going to say or do once we get back there. I wasn
’
t really thinking ahead when I told
her to get into my car. All I knew was that I needed to get her out of there.

We
ride in silence, both probably lost in the awkwardness of the moment. I notice
Kayla scanning the surroundings as we get close. It
’
s not the best neighborhood, but it
’
s not the worst, either. It works for
me. I fit in with the
other “
riffraff”
trying to make something of their lives.

I
pull into the parking lot of my building and run to open the door for Kayla
again. I can tell she
’
s nervous, but I don
’
t know if it
’
s because of where we are or who she
’
s with. She doesn
’
t say anything about the kids hanging
out in the stairwell. She doesn
’
t say anything about the thick layer of grime that covers
every square inch of the hallway, either.

When
we get to my apartment, I open the door and lead her in, closing the door and sliding
the dead bolt into place behind me. Kayla looks around while fidgeting with her
purse.

“
You live here?
”
she asks.

“
Yeah. I know it
’
s not fancy, but
…
”

“
That
’
s not what I meant. It just
…
it
doesn
’
t
look like you.
”
I
’
m standing behind her when she turns
to face me.

“
Dean?
”

“
Kayla?
”

We speak at the same time. Her eyes well up with tears,
and I don’t know why. All I know is that I can’t stand to see her like this.

“
Come here.
”
I pull her into my arms, wrapping them around her and
kissing her temple. Holding her is like nothing else I have experienced. The
intensity of emotion that burns through my body is overwhelming, the urge to
feel her, undeniable. I need to think about something other than how right this
feels.

“
I
’
m sorry about Sunday,
”
I blurt out.

“
It
’
s okay,
”
she whispers against my chest.

“
No, it
’
s not. I was a dick. I didn
’
t mean to be a dick.
”

“
You kinda were,
”
she breathes.
“
You made me feel like shit.
”

“
Ahhhh,
”
I growl.
“
I got lost in my own head and didn
’
t even think.
”

“
To be fair, I just sort of threw that at you,
”
she interrupts.

“
I am glad you told me. I meant it, Kayla. I like hearing
about you.
”

“
Even my crazy bits?
”

“
Especially your crazy bits.
”
I chuckle, my chest vibrating.

“
That
’
s good to know. I
’
ve
got a lot of crazy bits,
”
she giggles. I rub her back for a second before letting
her go.

“
Come on and sit down. I
’
ll get you a drink.
”

She
sits down on my sofa. Luckily it
’
s fairly new and not in bad shape.

“
What do you like? I have beer, water, tequila. Oh, and
Coke,
”
I say, looking at the bottle I left out on the counter.

“
Water
’
s fine, thanks,
”
she answers.

I
grab a couple of bottles from the fridge and go to sit down next to her.

“
So what happened?
”
I ask, handing her one of the bottles.

Kayla
takes it and rolls her eyes.
“
My stupid parents, as usual.
”

“
They live in The Carlyle?
”

She
nods.
“
My
mom and stepdad do
—
with Claire. I don
’
t know why I even call them my parents
anymore.
”
She swipes at her eyes and sniffs lightly.
“
I hate this. I hate that I let them do
this to me every fucking time. I
’
m an adult for God
’
s sake.
”

As
Kayla talks to me, I consider how much of herself she
’
s shared. She
’
s poured her heart out to me
—
all
the hurt and isolation she felt as a child, her weaknesses and vulnerability.
And what have I told her? How many fights I got into while incarcerated. That
’
s it. She trusted me. Maybe it
’
s time I trusted her. I just need to figure out how much I
’
m comfortable revealing.

We
keep talking, our conversation continuing past midnight. When Kayla yawns, I
realize I
’
m
running out of time. I have no idea how to approach the subject, so I just go
for it.

“
Did you know that when I was eighteen, I got married?
”