Bad Boy Blues(27)

And realizing that the world is a much bigger place than my dad had me believe. A place where people look at me like I’m worth something, even though I’m only a high school dropout.

My dad will shit a brick when he hears of this, that I outed the secret. The prodigal son wasn’t at Oxford but squatting in buildings like a homeless bum.

You’re not trying hard enough, Zach.

You really are dumb, aren’t you?

You’ll never amount to anything if you can’t even spell your name right.

But that’s nothing new, is it? He’s been shitting bricks ever since he found out his perfect little son has long, deep cracks.

I know the staff’s still here, watching everything. At The Pleiades, it’s hard to keep secrets. I make eye contact with a brown-haired, mousy one. “Escort her out. She’s a little too drunk to walk on her own.”

Ashley calls out my name and I spin around to face her one last time.

“Don’t ever come here uninvited. And don’t harass the staff. You’re not gonna like how I react the next time. Just a fair warning.”

With that, I leave.

I thrust my hand down my pocket and wrap my fingers around the bottle of laxative. I have a headache coming on; I need a fucking cigarette.

But guess what? I can’t have any. Because someone stole them from me.

My fingers tighten around the bottle in frustration.

Fucking thief.





I don’t get fired.

Mrs. S hears about my nightly adventures, however. She lets me go with a warning. It’s a shock but I guess I know the reason.

Pity.

Pity is the reason. I see it reflected in everyone’s eyes. Maggie, Leslie, Grace, even Ryan. They all have been giving me sad, sympathetic smiles.

It’s like my parents died all over again and I have to go to the morgue to identify their bodies. And then, it’s like the bank took away my house again because of all the debt and missed payments. Now, I have weeks of begging to do until they give me another chance to somehow make a partial payment.

It’s history repeating without actually repeating itself.

So I’m happy just to be sent on my daily duties. Only Tina’s assigned to work alongside me and in order to shift the pity, I tell her about Ryan’s asking me out.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

And that’s her reaction when I tell her that I refused to go out with him.

“Nothing.” I shrug, pushing the cleaning cart as we walk down one of the hallways in tower two. “Nothing’s wrong with me. I can’t go.”

“It’s not even a question, Cleo,” she says, stopping and putting her hands on her hips.

“Do you know you look like a mom when you do that?” I ask.

She folds her arms across her chest, then, throwing me a stern look.

“Not helping the mom situation there,” I sing-song and resume pushing the cart.

She sticks her hand out and grabs the handle, halting our progress again. “You have to go. You’re going.”

Sighing, I roll my eyes. “I can’t. I don’t have the time.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I work all day and then…”

“Then what?”

“Doris might need me to babysit Art. She’s old and she gets tired easily. Plus I’m giving Art punching lessons. Do you know he’s getting bullied at his school?” I shake my head. “Seriously. What’s wrong with the world? How do these people, these fucking bullies, even sleep at night? Do they think it’s okay to torment people? Is it okay to scare them? Does it make them feel bigger? Like, seriously? God! World’s fucked up, Tina. Sometimes I think I should go and put the fear of God in those kids. Trust me –”

“Stop talking.”

“What?”

Tina puts her hands on my shoulders. “Just stop. You’re not going to put the fear of God in children, okay? Take a deep breath.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

“Fine. Here.” One deep breath later, “You happy?”

“Not particularly. But I think this will do. Now, repeat after me: My name is Cleo and I’m going to live my life.”

When I purse my lips at her she glares at me.

“My name is Cleo,” I parrot the words. “And I’m going to live my life.”

“And I’m going to try to find happiness for myself.”

I grit my teeth. “And I’m going to try to find happiness for myself. But. I can’t go.” When it looks like she’s going to protest, I almost shout, “You know why.”

“Why?”

“Are you seriously asking me this?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t go because.” I look at the ceiling. “I can’t get into a car.”

“Okay?”

“What’s wrong with you? I cannot get into a car. I throw up, remember? I get claustrophobic. I can’t… My parents died in a car crash. I haven’t touched my car, the car that I used to freaking love, in a year now. How do you think I’m going to get to this date? Ryan’s going to want to pick me up and I just can’t.”

Tina’s looking at me like I’m crazy. “That’s not even.” She throws up her hands. “That’s not even an excuse. Take the bus.”