Rock Star Billionaire

"I don't know about that," I said shaking my head. "I mean, Mr. Yates came from nothing and worked his way up, you know."

"Sure, but he had all the money in the world to go out on," Burt said as he checked off boxes on the order, making sure he had everything in the warehouse. "His family is going to be just fine, but what about the rest of us? Who's going to lead the company now? Are we going to lose our jobs when the new guy comes in and decides that what we've been doing no longer works?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?" I said, trying to stem the concern I heard in his voice. "I'm sure Mr. Yates had a good plan in place in case something like this happened. Let's give it a few weeks before we start to panic."

"I'm just saying that I've seen it before, and it doesn't end well for those of us on this end of the equation," Burt warned.

"I promise I'll let you know what's going on as soon as I hear something," I said, turning to go back to my office. I couldn't show it, but I was worried, too.

I'd started working at Baby Steps in high school, and over the past decade I had worked my way up to warehouse manager. Mr. Yates had been a mentor and a father figure to me as I'd made my way through the ranks. I was now making a good living managing the warehouse. But I wondered how that would all change if a new CEO came in and took over.

I said goodbye to the warehouse staff and headed home to make dinner for Riley. When I got to the house, I found Mama asleep at the kitchen table with a half empty bottle in front of her and a lit cigarette in the ashtray. This was getting dangerous, and I needed to do something about it.

"Riley!" I called up the stairs. "Are you home? What do you want for dinner?"

"Up here, Leah!" Riley called down. "Pizza!"

I grabbed the phone and dialed the pizza place around the corner and ordered a large to be delivered. Then I shook my mother awake and helped her to her bedroom.

"Mama, you have to get help," I whispered as I tucked the blankets in around her. "You can't go on like this."

"I'm fine, girl," my mother slurred. "The last thing I need is you nagging me about something you know nothing about."

"Mama, it's not safe anymore," I said as she looked at me with watery eyes. "I can't leave you here alone, and Riley is too young to be responsible for you. We have to do something to change this."

"Get the hell out, and let me get some sleep," she said pushing me away as she rolled over and curled up. "I don't need your high and mighty attitude, missy."

"Mama …" I pleaded to her back. I waited but soon heard the sound of her snoring. I knew she'd be out for hours.

I walked back into the kitchen and dropped down into the chair my mother had occupied. The walls were stained a dull yellow from her years

of smoking, and I knew that if the alcohol didn't get her, lung cancer would. The problem was I didn't know how to stop her.

"I'm sick of this," I said as tears welled up. "I'm sick of being everyone's keeper."

"What's wrong, Leah?" Riley said as she entered the kitchen, holding a sheet of paper. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said wiping my eyes and trying to put on a smile. Riley was having none of it.

"Gram's a pain in the ass, isn't she?" she said without judgment. "I get sick of her being drunk all the time."

"She's just sad," I said, trying not to unload my personal feelings on the twelve-year-old.

"Oh give me a break, Leah," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Gram is a major downer, and I'm tired of her constantly being drunk. It's embarrassing. Why don't we just throw her in rehab and be done with it?"

"Riley? What's gotten into you?" I exclaimed.

"So, what are we going to do about it?" she asked. Her jaw was clenched, and I could see that she was itching for a fight. Sometimes she reminded me so much of Molly that it hurt. "I mean, this can't keep happening, can it?"

"I don't know," I sighed as my shoulders sagged. I leaned against the counter. "Gram won't go to rehab and I can't make her. She's never going to stop drinking, so I don't know what to do."

"One of the counselors at school gave me this," Riley said as she held out the sheet of paper. I took it and scanned the page. It was a detailed outline of how to stage an intervention.

"Did the counselor say anything about this?" I asked as my face burned with shame. Someone at school knew what was going on in this house, and they were reaching out to a twelve-year-old. How much worse could this get?

"She just said that the intervention might be the last step in helping Gram find a way to get out of her addiction," Riley said. "Can we try it, Leah? We could call Patrick and get him to help, couldn't we?"

"Let me think about this," I said as I thought about how we could bring my brother, Patrick, into the mix. Just then, the doorbell rang. I handed Riley two twenty-dollar bills and said, "Tip the delivery person five—no more!"