Page 30 of The Deadbeat DILF
Shoes were scattered all over the foyer like they had been kicked off aimlessly. Dirty dishes and empty beer bottles were littered across the kitchen counter. My throw pillows were on the floor, and one of my framed paintings had been knocked, so it was hanging unevenly. How had that happened?
Dad was lounging in one of the armchairs, watching a baseball game on the TV. “Get me another beer, will you?” he yelled to Brandon.
Brandon almost crashed into me as he walked to the kitchen. “Oh, hey.”
Before I could ask him what the hell happened to my apartment, he breezed past me and dug around in my fridge.From what I could see, everything was out of order on the shelves like they had been rummaging through it.
“This lotion is nice.”
I turned to see Mom walking out of my bedroom, her hands moving together to rub my expensive lotion into her skin. My eyes nearly popped out of my head at the sight of her wearing one of my silk Saint Laurent blouses.
“That’s my shirt,” I told her as I gestured to it.
“I needed a shirt,” my mother replied as she adjusted the sleeves.
Before I could reply, my eyes caught sight of a scratch on the coffee table’s leg. “What happened here?” I asked.
My father waved his hand at me when I tried to bend down and inspect the wooden leg. “I can’t see the TV.”
With narrowed eyes, I stepped to the side, only to face Gemma, who had a few of my handbags in her grasp.
“Brooke,” she said in a too-sweet voice. “You have such nice bags!”
“Did you go through my closet without asking?” I asked.
“We were just exploring the apartment. It’s so nice,” she replied with a starry look in her eyes. “I want to live in a high-rise apartment like this!”
“Can I have my bags back?” I asked her, trying not to get snippy.
“You have so many of them! Like, a lot of them. Think you could part with just one of them and let me have it?”
“What?” I asked, making sure I was hearing her right.
“I never get to have anything nice,” she said with an exaggerated pout.
“Can you just let her have one, Brooke?” Brandon asked from the doorway to the kitchen, giving me a tired look.
“When’s Robert coming back?” Dad asked me. “He’s making dinner, right? I’m starving.”
“You’ve got barely any food in the fridge,” Brandon said. “We ate the snacks in the pantry. Hope that’s okay.”
My eyes swept around me, taking in the damage. The trash. The things of mine that they helped themselves to without asking.
They didn’t care about my space. They didn’t care about me or my feelings. They only cared about themselves.
“I want you to give me all of my things back,” I told Mom and Gemma in a firm voice, my skin starting to burn hot.
“You have more things than you can even count. You can’t part with a few things for your family?” Mom asked, placing a hand on her hip.
“No,” I said in a sharp voice. “I’m more than happy to buy gifts for you on special occasions, but you can’t take things from my bedroom like it’s your own personal department store!” I motioned for Gemma to hand over my bags.
Gemma tightened her grip on the straps instead. “Can I please just have the Chanel one?”
“I’m sure you can get another one,” Brandon said to me.
My father sighed loudly as he waved his hand at us. “Pipe down! I’m trying to watch the game!”
All of their voices rang in my ears, making every muscle in my body tense up to the point that I came apart at the seams.
