Four Fun (Four)

With a few quick steps, I close the distance and grab my phone, my heart instantly in my throat.

I stab at the green button. “Rachel? What’s the matter?”

46

Nothing else matters

“It’s my sister,” I say, when I end the call. “I need to go.”

All four men follow me as I run up to my room to grab my purse and tug on some clothing, but thankfully, they don’t try to slow me down.

“What’s going on?” Shane asks. “Is she hurt?”

“My mother has her trapped in the house. I’m going to get her out.” I push back past them, noticing Khalil’s and Marcos’s cocks, which are still semihard. “Sorry, I need to leave immediately.”

“We’re coming with you,” Shane says.

I hurry down the stairs, skipping a couple of them. “There’s no reason for you to come.”

Shane grabs my arm, bringing me to a stop. “Do you think she’s in danger?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Then you’re in danger. We’re not letting you go alone.” Shane’s jaw is set firm. “Marcos, can you grab everyone’s clothes?”

I’m annoyed at Shane for intruding on my personal family business, but part of me is grateful for the support he’s offering. My mother can be a mean drunk — and I have to assume she’s drunk if she’s pulling this shit — and who knows what her asshole boyfriend is capable of.

The men get dressed in record time, and I’m grateful for their haste. We all pile into the enormous truck we took to the amusement park, and after I tell him where he needs to go, Shane drives with an urgency that I greatly appreciate.

“What’s going on?” Devin asks. “Has this happened before?”

“Rachel said our mother has her trapped in her bedroom. She won’t let her out to meet her friends unless she gives her a hundred dollars, which my sister doesn’t have.”

“Is this some kind of punishment? Is your sister in trouble?”

I shake my head vigorously. “My sister never does anything wrong. This is my mother’s desperate attempt to get money for her loser boyfriend.”

Marcos and Khalil frown at me like I’m speaking another language.

“I know,” I say. “It’s so fucked up. My mother’s been harassing me for money for weeks.”

“Is that what was going on last week when we were at Smith’s Farm?” Shane asks.

My cheeks burn with anger and shame. “Yeah.”

“Text your sister. Tell her to pack a bag,” Shane says. “She’s staying at our place.”

I hadn’t even thought that far ahead. If I had, I guess I would have assumed the guys would welcome her in for the night if she had nowhere else to go. I’ve already been imposing on them though, and now I need help with my sister.

I’m embarrassed for the men to see the run-down house I grew up in. Even in the dark, when most of its shabby details are obscured, it still looks like a dilapidated shack compared to the house they own.

I fly out of the truck and up to the front door, pounding on it loudly, not caring if any neighbors hear. When it’s not instantly opened, I pound again. Finally, my mother opens it, and I push inside without bothering to speak to her. Shane and Marcos are right behind me as I head down the hall to Rachel’s room.

“What’s going on?!” My mother’s screechy voice is slurred, confirming that she’s definitely been drinking.

I knock once and twist the knob, but the door doesn’t budge. When I try again, Marcos points to the floor. “It’s blocked.”

There’s a chunk of wood wedged under the door. I try to kick it out of the way, but when I’m unsuccessful, Shane kneels down and pulls it out.

Rachel is standing just inside the doorway, a travel bag on her shoulder.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

She nods, looking shaky. Her face is tear stained, and my anger rises another few notches.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask my mother, who’s standing at the end of the hall.

“You can’t leave!” she yells at Rachel. “Bill’s gonna be so mad when he wakes up.”

It’s then that I notice her boyfriend slumped on the couch, asleep, or more likely passed out, since he’s not waking up during all the ruckus.

“Where are you going?” my mother cries, tugging at Rachel’s arm as she passes.

“Let her go!” I push my mother’s hand away, and Shane steps in front of her, blocking her so Rachel can get to the front door. His posture is not threatening, but he’s big enough that he gives my mother pause.

“Who are these men, Rebecca? Where are you taking Rachel?”

I ignore her questions and make my own exit. I learned long ago not to engage with her, even though sometimes I can’t help myself.

Back inside the truck, I introduce my sister to the men, explain that I’m staying with them, and why. Rachel’s never known anything about my living situation — even my apartment — because I didn’t want her to know where I was and have to lie to our mother about it.