Page 97 of Detour

“Angela, open the door.”

More knocks.

“Open up, babe. I know you’re awake.”

A thump that sounds like a head propped against the door chips at my carefully constructed resolve, cracking my heart in two. I fist my hands at my sides, wishing the pieces would just fall already.

“Why are you doing this?”

Minutes tick by, then a choked whisper that steals my own breath. “Don’t do this to me. Please.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping he’ll be gone when I open them.

The door across the hall slams shut making me jump. I let out a long breath, with it I release the hope that had crept in while my back was turned. The hope that I could be what he wanted, what they needed. Maybe I am more like my mom than I thought. I’m just as toxic to everyone that gets close as she is. A slow-acting poison that lulls you into false security until it’s too late, killing everything good in its vicinity. But, no. Not this time. I refuse to cause the same damage she has. Always taking, taking, taking for herself. I’m giving them the best outcome whether they know it or not. The least hazardous track possible—the one without me on it.

CHAPTER 33

Angela

Days. It’s been days since I worked. Joe doesn’t even have the balls to call me himself to deliver the bad news either. He’s been making the hourly associates do his dirty work which makes it that much worse, knowing he’s feeding them bullshit they’re forced to regurgitate over the phone to me. My questions go unanswered just like the constant knocks at my door. By the end of the week the punishment is loud and clear—Joe’s icing me out.

The irony that I’m doing the same to the boys is not lost on me, yet my hands are tied in both situations.

Coty knocks every day before leaving for work and again when he returns. I wait until he’s gone to head out myself then make sure I arrive back before he does so there’s no chance of collision. Texts and calls have been ignored as well. Beckett’s joined in the pursuit as well but I dodge him, too. I almost had a run-in with Marc earlier in the week when I was folding laundry but I ducked down to hide like the coward they think I am.

The only thing saving me from losing it entirely is my newfound sanctuary in the local library. The extra free time has been filled with days of job hunting and nights of reading, both accessible at no cost thankfully.

My night class starting this week helped, too. Helped to pass the time and to keep my mind occupied, but useless in getting me money. I’ve only had a couple more interviews but no call-backs yet.

Drew, oblivious to my neighborly dilemma, invited me out to a movie tonight which I happily accepted.

The only upside in all this mayhem is I haven’t heard from my mother. I’m cautiously grateful for her silence after her last nasty call but, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, I wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to pop back up at the most inconvenient of times. Come to think of it, there is no such thing as a convenient time to deal with Rianne. Whatever the boys may have said to her might’ve actually worked in keeping her away. Yet another problem of mine they were forced to handle.

Exhaling, I pull into the library to dive right back in where I left off yesterday. Four hours until Coty leaves work gives me three and a half to find a new job. I just hope it’s enough. Something needs to change before I end up back where I started—broke, broken, and under Rianne’s cruel thumb.

I pick up my pace through the automatic doors.

* * *

Husky notes bleed out of Drew’s speakers as he drives me home from his friend’s house. Bebe Rexha’s voice gets me every time and “I’m A Mess” is no exception. He pretends not to like it but I see his head bobbing out of the corner of my eye and I crack a small smile.

I lean my head back, inhaling Drew’s fruity scent. The smell saturates the confined space along with memories of our nostalgic drives together. My need for these may have subsided but the comfort they provide hasn’t, and even though I’m not supposed to, I allow myself a few seconds to absorb the relief Drew’s presence always offers.

The movie, an action one, was the ultimate diversion. No sappy love story. No deep family divide. Just mindless chatter between illogical carnage. Simply perfect.

Needing to stop off at a friend’s afterward helped, too. The alcohol his friend supplied in the short time we were there was just what I needed to clear the remaining thoughts swirling in my head. The expensive vodka was much smoother going down and now I’m just hoping the same proves true if it happens to come back up, too.

Tipsy from the shots, I sway in the front seat singing off-key as Creekwood comes into view. I fight to keep the hazy effects present through the gloom quickly resurfacing. Goodbye blurry edges, hello blunt reality. It was fun while it lasted. Kind of. Drew, being the steadfast designated driver, proved to be a terrible drinking buddy after all. It must be nice to have a stable career you have a responsibility to.

Parked, he looks over to me with questioning eyes. Questioning and suspicious. He hasn’t pushed the topic that I’ve deemed off limits but he didn’t have to. I can feel the sadness seeping out of my pores and I know he can as well.

“Need me to walk you up?”

I groan.

That voice. The pity it holds. The worry it represents.

I thank Drew before folding myself out of his low car.