“What…what about me?” I didn’t know why I asked. I should have already known she didn’t care about what happened to me, but deep down, I’d hoped. I’d hoped she did care. I’d hoped she was going to take me with her.
“What about you?” She leaned her entire body against the thin wall of the trailer as the two guys started to gather stuff up from her bedroom. They knew she wasn’t in any state to get it herself, and Tony meant business. “I ain’t takin’ you with me. Get your own fuckin’ place.” She huffed out a breath, rolled her eyes, and pushed her hand through her greasy, limp hair. “Always wanting something from me.”
My shock over the whole situation disappeared at her words, and anger replaced it. Burning anger. The ki
nd of anger I couldn’t control. “I never ask you for anything!” My voice echoed throughout the trailer. “I haven’t asked you for anything from the moment Dad left.”
“He was a piece of shit too,” she responded, looking me dead in the eyes. “You’re exactly like him. Your eyes, your face,” she sneered.
“I’d rather be like him than you.” I stepped forward. “Look at you. Look at you!” I waved my arm in the air at her, but she didn’t move an inch. She didn’t care. She’d never cared. I could see it clear as day now. I’d been a fool. A fool to think one day she’d get sober and be a mother to me. I’d been blinded by my love for her, but not anymore. I was done with her. I’d stood up to Knox, and now she was the final nail in the coffin.
“You are a piece of shit. You are the one who bailed in the worst way possible.” I took a final step closer to her. “You are not worth it.”
“And you are?” She laughed. “You think I don’t know about the boyfriend who beat you?” She snorted, but the grin on her face made me want to close the last bit of distance between us. “Couldn’t even stay in line for him, could you?”
“You…” I couldn’t even form the words. Couldn’t voice how she made me feel. Couldn’t even be bothered to talk to her any longer. We had to be out of the trailer. It was her fault, but it was also mine. I’d tried to stay, I’d tried to stick to my plan and last until the end of senior year, but just like with Knox, I should have left a long time ago. “You’re nothing,” I whispered, feeling the words deep down in my bones. “You’re nothing to me.”
I took one final look at her, etched her drugged-up face into my memory, and twirled around. It didn’t take me long to pack up all my things because I owned so little, but it still took me two trips to my car. Once I was loaded up, I turned back to face Tony, who had the two guys dragging Mom out of the trailer.
“Sorry, Elodie,” he said, and he did look sorry, but I knew there was nothing he could do at this stage. We’d taken liberties with the rent. I’d tried to keep us all afloat, but there was only so much I could do when I was constantly bailing Mom out. But now things would be different. Now all I had to worry about was myself, and it was both liberating and scary at the same time.
“Thanks,” I murmured to him, and pushed into my car, turned the engine on, and drove out of the home I’d known for so long. I had no idea where I was going to stay, no idea where I was going to go, but I still had to do my shift at work. I thought I’d needed the money before, but now it was essential. I had enough to feed me for two days and for gas for the week, but even that was going to be a push at this stage.
I’d need to pick up extra shifts, which meant I couldn’t practice my routine for the next competition as much as I wanted to, but I was determined to make it work. Determined to get myself on my own two feet and live the life I wanted to, whether it took a month or a year.
My shaking hands gripped the steering wheel harder as I made a left into the lot of the strip club, and I could see it was already packed. Relief washed through me because a packed place meant more money.
I pulled up into my usual spot, turned the engine off, and looked back at all of my things on the back seat of my car. My entire life was in this vehicle. Everything I owned. Everything I had. It was all in this tiny space, and yet I still had a small smile on my face. It didn’t make sense why I was happy not to have a place to live, but I was out of there. I was away from my mom.
My cell beeped with my alarm, and I switched it off, then pushed out of my car. Today was the day the rest of my life started. They said things came in threes, and so far, I’d only had two—Knox and my mom. I only hoped the third wouldn’t be as bad because I wasn’t sure I could take much more.
Chapter Eleven
ASHER
“How’s this?” Maverick asked, holding up the small drawing of a spade with a funky A in the middle. I’d surprised him when he’d come into the shop today and told him he’d be tattooing me. He’d practiced on pigskins and himself plenty, but it was time he had a real human client he worked on.
“Looks good,” I told him as I sat on the client bed. “Set your things up, and we’ll get started.”
He nodded and rushed around to get the station ready, all with a huge grin on his face. Jez was on the other side of the studio, prepping his own client, and Lara was sitting at the front desk, working on a drawing. Both of them had known I was going to surprise Maverick when he came in, and they’d watched eagerly as I told him. We all remembered the first time we tattooed a client. The memory was etched in each of our minds, impossible to scrub. It was also probably the worst tattoos we’d done. Shaky lines and shit shading, but it would always be our first.
“Ready,” Maverick announced as he put some black gloves on. “Where are you having it?”
I pointed at a small space on my forearm. “Fit it in there.”
“Okay.” He placed the paper with the drawing on over my arm to check for sizing and nodded to himself. “Should be good.” He stepped back and stared at the paper, my arm, and then my face. I waited for what he was going to say, but I could tell he’d blanked.
“Stencil,” I informed him, and he shook his head as if he’d been in a daze.
“Right.” He laughed nervously and walked to the front of the shop near Lara, made the stencil, then came back.
“You need to change your gloves now.” He pulled his gloves off, replaced them, then grabbed the alcohol solution and a razor. He’d watched me do this hundreds of times, and I knew as soon as he was in the zone, he’d be fine. He only had to get his nerves under control.
Once the stencil was on, he pulled back and asked, “Is that okay?”
I glanced down at it, liking the way it fit in with my other tattoos. “Yep.”
“Cool.” Maverick sat on the rolling stool and set his machine up, as well as his inks, and finally, he started to tattoo the spade. The burn of the needle didn’t bother me at all, but I kept a keen eye on his lines as he went around the edge of the stencil line and wiped the ink away as he went. He started off a little shaky, but by the time he’d completed the entire outline, he was more confident.