Relinquish(60)

“Don’t you use my first name. I am your father, and you will call me as so!” he roars, slamming his poor excuse of a fist on the table. I detest calling him my flesh and blood, but it’s easier than listening to him ramble on about how family sticks together. It’s bullshit. Where was he when my mother was dying?

“Yeah, sure. Are we done here?” I push my chair out and stand, fastening the button of my jacket.

My father gives me a cynical eye and quietly nods.





CHARLIE


Heading toward the kitchen, after changing out of my dress and into something more comfortable, I find Tara leaving the dining room with a tray of food.

“Oh, are you hungry?” she asks, her tone friendly. I smile and nod. Her blonde, silky hair reaches her breasts, and she’s wearing a short robe, revealing the tops of her thighs down to her bare feet.

“Yeah, I’m just heading to the kitchen to get something,” I reply, running my hand along the dining room table.

“They just kicked me out. They’re getting ready for the party tonight. You can come to my room and watch a movie, help me finish off these chicken strips,” Tara offers with a friendly smile. “There’s no way I can finish them all.” She giggles and scrunches her shoulders up.

“Nobody wants to run off to your room and be buddy-buddy, Tara,” a tall, black-haired woman insults, walking out of the kitchen. Tara swallows and looks the other way, her expression sheepish.

“And you are?” I ask, glaring at the woman. She has long hair with a gold band wrapped around her head, with a long, flowered golden dress to match. Her eyes are wide and colored green, her lips blood-red to match her nails.

“I’m Tabatha, the number one escort of the estate,” she sneers, popping her hip out proudly and crossing her arms.

I scoff. This woman seriously has her priorities messed up.

“Tara, I would love to hang out,” I state, my eyes never leaving Tabatha’s. She snorts and smacks her lips together in a ‘go figure’ manner.

“Veronica was right,” Tabatha smarts.

I furrow my brows in confusion. “About what?”

Tabatha gives a tight-lipped smile, and walks past Tara and me. “Nothing. Enjoy your loser party,” she remarks. “Don’t forget to throw up afterwards, Tara,” Tabatha mocks.

After she leaves, I look over and find Tara looking down at her tray of food sadly.

“Does Miller know she talks to you like that?” I scoff. Tara frowns. “No, I can take care of myself,” she snaps.

“I didn’t mean-“

“You don’t have to join me. I’m sure you can get some cookies or something.”

“No, let’s go,” I insist. I am very intrigued by Tara.

She looks up, her face bright and cheery.

“Really?” she whispers. I nod and grab a chicken strip from the tray.

“Follow me,” she instructs. “With the party tonight, the girls are going to be wandering around the estate. They aren’t all that bitchy, though,” she continues.

I follow her up the stairs, and instead of going toward the left or right wings of the house, we go straight, passing a bunch of windows that display the setting sun. She presses her back against a door, juggling the food tray, and pushes it open.

“This is where Miller and I stay. Make yourself comfy,” Tara remarks, setting the tray on the bed. I look around, noticing fancy clothes all over the floor and an unmade bed with gray blankets and sheets. The floor is made up of white carpet, and the wall in front of the bed is nothing but shelves of books and movies. A large TV displays a movie tucked between the bookcases, but I can’t tell what’s playing.

“I’m going to use the restroom and change,” she tells me, prancing off toward a closed door. My eyes catch another doorway next to the bathroom that’s open. I glance in, finding a desk and more books and files along the wall behind it. My breath takes a sudden absence. This is Miller’s office. If I’m going to find anything, I bet it’s in that desk or in one of those files.

I look back at the bathroom door and notice it’s still closed and Tara is singing. I quickly head into the office and pull open some drawers of the desk. My heart races that Miller might catch me rummaging through his desk. I find a few empty bottles of booze in the first drawer. I sigh, pulling open another. My eyes dart toward the door nervously before shuffling through the remains. I find some paperwork from other escorts and their earnings, but it’s not what I’m looking for. Shit! I throw it back in its place, ready to give up, when my eyes catch a divider in the back of the drawer.

I purse my lips in curiosity and slide the drawer out more, finding some folders with dust on them. I open one, dust falling on my lap, and find some older photos of women, like they’re at a party or something. My eyes trail across Landon in one of the pictures, just as serious in the photo as he is now. I close the tan folder and thumb through the other files that lay under it until I find bright red lettering printed on one. I pull it out and my head spins, my stomach falls, and I feel like I may vomit. It says Evans across it. Evans, like my last name? What could Miller have on me?

“Charlie?” My heart beats quickly, and I shove the folder in the back of my shorts, pulling my shirt down over it – or trying to, at least. My shirt’s too small, not covering much.