Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
“Because I know you haven’t. And until a few days ago, I hadn’t either.”
“Oh, and now you are? Now you’re in love with this chick you just met?” He looks back at me, eyes bugging out with disbelief.
I must sound completely nuts to him. A far cry from the shit-talking, beer-chugging crew worker he’s been used to hanging out with for the last few years.
I shrug. It’s all I can do as I climb into the truck. “What can I say, pal? This girl’s the one.”
Dave scoffs and shouts as me as I pull out of the drive. I can see the anger in his eyes, but I can also see the concern, hiding just behind it.
“She’s gonna ruin you!”
My mom is sitting outside the door to my apartment when I get home. That’s something I haven’t seen in the three years since I got this place. She always calls, and I always go over to her house to visit when it’s time.
“Ma! Are you all right?” I ask, rushing over.
“I should be asking you the same question,” she replies. She holds something out for me, but I can already see it in her eyes.
She knows.
I reach out and take an envelope from her and open it to find my final pay check. The Reverend must have had his friends rush it to make sure I was out of his hair as quickly as possible with no reason to come around again.
“Ma, how did you get this?” I ask, opening the door.
“A man brought it by the house.” We step inside, and I pull out a chair for her at the table. “He said you’ve lost your job. Something about inappropriate conduct? Casey, what’s going on?”
Christ, these bastards are crossing the line now. Bringing my mother into this? I can see the worry plastered across her face.
I visit her as much as I can, take her out for brunch on the weekends, a gelato in the evenings when I’m free. Ma never remarried after my dad’s heart attack, so she likes to see me. I’m used to seeing her smile when I sit across from her, but now all I see is worry.
And because of that, I’m raging inside.
“Nothing, Mom. It’s nothing. Just some internal politics at work, that’s all.”
“Internal politics? Casey, honey. What have you gotten yourself tangled up in?”
I take a breath and try to calm myself down. Michelle’s gorgeous eyes fill my mind, staring deep into my heart, reassuring me of what I know I need to do.
“Ma, you remember that friend of yours that works at the church? The one who told you that stuff about the Reverend?”
My mom shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Yes. Margaret.”
“You said she had proof that he was skimming funds from the church.”
“Oh, Casey. You’re not going to get mixed up with Patrick Tuttle, are you?”
I reach out and take my mom’s hand. We’ve always been there for each other, and I feel awful seeing her this anxious right now.
But this is no time to back down. Michelle needs me. As do the rest of the innocent people Patrick has been stealing from for all these years.
“I finally met someone, Mom.” I smile. “Someone who makes me happy.”
Mom’s eyes light up. She’s never outwardly said anything to me, but I know she’s been wanting me to settle down for a while now.
“You have? And you…you really care about this girl?”
I nod. We both smile in sync as we look at each other. “I’m going to settle down with her, Ma.”
“Oh, honey! Casey, this is so exciting!”
“I’m going to make it happen, Mom. But I need to do some things first. I need Margaret to get me those files.” My mom’s face goes tense again. “Can you ask her for me? Please?”
8
MICHELLE
This is it, I think to myself as I sit in the corner of the study of Jerry’s enormous home–so grand it resembles an old English estate.
This is what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life.
I feel as though I’m looking at the world in slow motion as I stare out across the room, watching Jerry and his friends drink whiskey and tell stories.
They’re dressed up as 19th century gentlemen tonight, complete with top hats and canes, lounging across the furniture as though any of them had a hand in the work it took to purchase it.
There are girls here tonight I don’t recognize. But from their surgically enhanced bodies and over-the-top smiles and flirting, it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes or Watson to deduce that they’re being paid by the hour.
Of course Jerry is doing his best to pretend he’s not eyeing the merchandise, but his sideways glances are more than obvious.
I couldn’t care less, of course. It’s like Casey said; he means nothing to me. He could take one of them upstairs to a bedroom for the rest of the night for all I care. In fact, I wish he would. Maybe then I’d have an actual reason to call off the marriage that someone in the families just might accept.