He now only has an inch of height on me as I’ve shot up since the last time he lived here. I’m probably not even at my full height yet. And he’s got that beer gut where I’ve already got a six pack. He’s now more cautious around me, seeing that I’m no longer a kid, plus knowing I’m a bruiser after standing back and watching me and my buddy lay a beating on three shitheads in the basketball court a couple weeks ago that had been going around grabbing girls’ tits. Tried to talk me into goin’ to an underground fight, said if I pretend I’m eighteen, I can make some quick cash and he’d only take a small cut for runnin’ bets for me.
As if I need him to help me earn money. As if he knows a fraction of what I know about managing bets. I first started taking bets months ago and I’ve got more sense in my little finger than Max has in his entire idiot head.
My mother told me the day after Max nearly hit Willie last time that I had to mind him otherwise I might find myself out on the street.
Yeah. She was shitfaced, threatening to kick me out for protecting my kid brother from her useless on-again, off-again asshole dick. And she’s had a string of ‘em. Anyone who might be worthwhile gets shot of her as soon as they get their piece of ass because though she’s thirty-two and looks like a twenty-two-year-old smoke-show what she really is, is a shit-show.
Except Willie’s dad. Would’ve been nice if he could’ve stuck around or even taken us with him when he left, but she made it so he couldn’t. The asshole losers stick around longer, and this latest asshole has been comin’ and goin’ the past two years.
I said, “He’s why Willie’s pissin’ the bed and havin’ nightmares, woman. He’s terrified of that guy. Won’t get outta bed to use the can in the middle of the night after what happened a few weeks ago so he keeps havin’ accidents. You gotta get rid of that guy, Mom,” I said. “And stop leavin’ Will alone with him.”
She changed the subject.
She never listens unless it’s something she wants to hear. She only ever thinks of herself. And she doesn’t wanna be reminded her ten-year-old walked out while she was gettin’ laid against the front door, too tanked to notice him. Not the only mental scars Brianne Coulter has responsibility for.
The only reason I haven’t left is because I can’t take my brother with me legally. If I ignored the legal aspect and did it anyway, I couldn’t look after him properly with school and making money.
Coach says I could get a full ride with football, but I know there’s no way that happens unless I abandon my brother, and that is not happening. Plus I promised Nan I’d finish high school, even if I find it all to be utter bullshit. As soon as I’m eighteen and done school with six months of living expenses saved, we’re gone.
My buddy whose father is a connected man with a lot of power and connections and I are talking and I’m gonna get backed by his family, just temporarily, so I can boost my profit and get enough that ensures I can get those six months of expenses together by the time I’m eighteen to get me and Willie outta here. I’m doin’ all right on my own but like the idea of kicking things up a notch. My buddy’s dad doesn’t usually let anyone under twenty-one work for him unless they’re blood but told me he sees something promising in me.
“Get me some chili fries, too, Killy,” Max tries to yank my chain.
Willie’s back.
“As if,” I mutter, gesturing to Willie’s shoes by the door while throwing Max a middle finger.
“Watch it, kid,” Max points and then throws his beer back and gulps a few times before belching. “Don’t be gettin’ too big for yer britches there or I might hafta go old school on yer ass.”
“Whenever you feel like you’re man enough,” I return, staring straight into his eyes.
He looks the other way and scoffs, flicking the channel on the television.
“You’re cute,” he mutters.
I grind my teeth and herd Willie out the door. As soon as it clicks shut, I squat to tie his left shoe for him. He takes forever to tie them and half the time they come undone. I don’t baby him around anyone, he gets hassled enough, mistaken for being a lot younger than he is because he’s so scrawny and because he’s got a shit mother, but he won’t complain since no one can see me fixing them.
“Mom!” Willie exclaims.
I look over my shoulder and see she’s heading our way, struggling with six plastic bags, three in each hand.