Her words piss me off, and I try hard not to let myself recognize it. Because you only get upset when someone insults someone you care about. “He doesn’t have the money I thought he did. And the kid isn’t spoiled or bratty at all. He’s sweet.”
“Are you fucking him? He must have one magic cock for you to hang around now.”
I want to be fucking Wes. I have no doubt his cock is magic. “Nope. Not sleeping with him.”
“You mean not yet, right? That’s how you pull your tricks, isn’t it? Sex and blackmail are like your claim to fame.”
“They’re not,” I say, fully aware of another visitor eavesdropping. I get it, our conversation is unorthodox at best, but geez, be a little discreet.
“So what are you going to do? We need money.”
“My job.”
Heather’s eyebrows push together, and she stares at me for a good few seconds. “Wait. You took a job as a nanny for a rich couple so you could con them out of their money, but you’re just going to be a fucking nanny and earn minimum wage?”
Hearing her say it out loud makes me realize how terrible a person I am. “I’m doing the job I was hired to do. And it’s not a rich couple. Wes is a single dad.”
“Ohh, his name is Wes. You must be hot for him or something. Because my badass big sister doesn’t work petty jobs.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop bragging about me to your prison friends, okay? You’re going to get me caught or something.”
“Please.” She runs a hand through her butchered hair. Fixing it is the first thing I’m going to do once she’s out of here.
“And I don’t get hot for people. I think all that love shit is that just that: shit.”
Heather drums her fingers on the table. “Have you seen Dad lately?”
“Yeah. I saw him before I came here.”
“How’d he look today?” she asks apprehensively.
“Okay. He has a big bump on his head from falling face first out of his wheelchair. I guess he was reaching for something and hit the floor.” I rub my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “I was able to talk to the doctor today about switching medications. I don’t want him to be drugged up, but something needs to change so he doesn’t bust his head open.”
“Yeah, we need to get him into a better place with more staff.”
“Oh, that would help for sure. But places like that are expensive.”
Heather looks down at the table, dropping her I don’t give a shit attitude. She knows the stunt she pulled that got her arrested took away a lot from Dad. I spent money on her lawyer, and she obviously can’t work and contribute to the medical bills anymore.
“Why do you have so many scratches on your hands?” she asks.
“Kittens.”
“Awww, I want a kitten. Are they at the house?”
“No, Wes—my boss—has a sister who really likes cats. We hung out yesterday.” I say it almost like a confession, because Heather knows how far from normal this is for me. After picking up Jackson from school, I met Quinn and Emma at the farmers’ market downtown. I really like her, which surprised me more than anyone. Never in a million years would I think I’d be talking and laughing with someone like Quinn.
“You’re really making yourself at home. I thought one of your cardinal rules was not to get involved and make personal attachments or whatever.”
I shake my head, stomach tightening. “This isn’t my usual situation. I told you, Wes doesn’t have a trust fund. I don’t know…” I pick at the lint that’s stuck to the sleeves of my sweater, angling myself away from the chick who’s still looking at me. Judge away, bitch. You can’t be much better considering we’re both visiting someone in prison. “I’ll figure it out.”
Heather lets out a huff. “Do it fast. I’m almost out of money and I really like being able to buy snacks.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m glad you have your priorities in check.”* * *
“Is everything okay?” Wes asks softly. We just finished dinner, and I’ve hardly said a word throughout the meal. Going back to the south side, seeing my sister and my dad, and walking down the streets I’ve haunted since I was old enough to venture out on my own…it reminded me who I am.
Of the shit I’ve done.
And all the thoughts I’ve wrestled down are fighting to come up. To remind me how shitty of a person I am.
That there is no such thing as redemption.
“Yeah, just…just thinking.” I force a smile.
“Okay.” He doesn’t believe me, but he’s not going to press it. His phone buzzes again, and I eye it.
“You’re mister popular tonight.”
He flips it over and glances at the text. “It’s my brothers trying to get me to go out to the bar tonight.”