I dare him to call me!
My phone rang.
“Sumbitchmotherfuck!” I screamed.
I scrubbed my face, gripped my hair. Was it him calling?
I thought for a second of throwing my phone, but then it might break. I still had a few months on this plan, and I wasn’t going to pay for repairs or a new phone.
He wasn’t worth it.
Heart hammering in my chest, I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see who was calling. I gripped it in my hand, letting it ring and vibrate for a second, savoring a kind of sick pleasure from my misery, taunting myself with the possibility that maybe it was him and maybe I would answer it.
And say what exactly?
Maybe I’d give him a piece of my mind, how about that?
Annoyed with myself, I opened my hand and let my phone slide to the sink before I stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door behind me. This is all his fault. That lying, cheating baboon.
The doorbell rang.
“For fuck’s sake.” I let out a loud breath and dragged my feet to the door. ?
?Do I need to sell my soul to get some peace and serenity on this earth or what?”
I glanced at the clock. It was home time for my dad and brother.
If they forgot their keys again, I swear to God…
The permanent sour face of my uncle Andrew and the round, kind face of his wife, Charity, greeted me as I opened the door. The car shop was owned by Andrew and my dad, and the tiny two-bedroom house we lived in was behind it. Andrew loved to remind us how lucky we were that we didn’t have to pay him half the rent, since he co-owned the house with my dad.
And since, in his mind, this was his property, he could come and go whenever he wanted. He had asked my dad if he could have a key to our house in case of emergencies. I told my dad he’d find me in Salome Avenue working with Faye, a family friend who was a sex worker during the weekends. My dad didn’t give him a key.
Andrew settled his scrawny butt on one of the stylish chairs I had refurbished in our living room. His eyes were assessing as he scanned our house. Charity sat beside him.
I couldn’t boast about the size, and I might not be the most organized or cleanest person on the planet, but I knew how to spice up the place. Most everything we had was secondhand—stuff I’d picked up from Value Village or the Salvation Army that I’d revamped or repainted, hand-me-downs from relatives and friends. Stuff my dad picked up everywhere. But I was meticulous in choosing what stayed and what didn’t. Damon and my brother, Dylan, had to build a shed on the property for Dad to store all the junk he collected and thereby prevent me from murdering him.
“Why is it so hot in here?” Andrew complained. “It’s not even that cold outside. Do you know how much heating cost nowadays? Living here for free doesn’t mean you can waste, kid. Turn the heater off.”
What did he think I was, a cold-blooded mammal? I narrowed my eyes at him. And leaned against the wall. Defiantly.
When he realized I wasn’t going anywhere, he looked at me with a disapproving curl on his lip.
“Make us some coffee. A little hospitality won’t kill you,” he said.
He just said it was too hot in here.
I raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t know. I’d have to boil water using the kettle and electricity costs money. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Charity let out a snorting laugh, then coughed to cover it up. Andrew glared at her.
“Out of all my nieces and nephews, you’re the only one who gives me a headache. Why are you always so disagreeable?”
He had said different variations of this to me while I was growing up. It stung back then, and it still stung now. I crossed my arms. “Am I? Maybe because you’re not particularly my favorite person.”
He didn’t hold back, so why would I?
He sneered. “I heard you’re back in college now,” he said. “You should stop fooling around and just finish your studies. Look at my son, John. He’s a successful pharmacist now. My daughters, Chloe and Judith, are both teachers. Your other cousins too—Cecille, Miriam, Naomi—they all graduated with degrees. What about you and Dylan? Your dad—”