Ice (Regulators MC 1)
“What?” I shriek. “I do not have time for this, Madyson.”
“Mom and Dad have kicked me out. They took my car and everything. I need somewhere to stay and a ride. I thought I would be able to stay with Brooke, but her dad needs a damn security clearance before she can have a house guest. Please, Morgan, I don’t have anywhere to go. It will only be a few days until Mom cools off.”
Knowing how my parents are, they have probably decided, since she is eighteen, they can kick her out. They know she has no college aspirations or at least any she has shared. With her behavior it saves them money as they would want to pay for her education as they did mine. Reality is, they can’t afford it. Her unwillingness to mold into the person they want her to be only adds to the division between them. Besides, if they make her leave, they don’t have to cover up what a disobedient child they have to their friends and neighbors.
“How is any of this my problem?” I harshly question. She could try to get along with them, at least for the sake of having a roof over her head, until she finishes school; but no, not my sister. Does she think I enjoyed growing up with them, having their absurd rules and expectations shoved down my throat? I did what I had to until I could afford to live on my own.
“It’s not, but I have no one else,” she pleads, tugging at my heartstrings.
A knock at my office’s door jamb has me turning around to see my boss staring at me with an odd expression. This is going to be the never ending morning of crazy.
Making a quick decision I know I will regret, though at the moment my options are limited, I turn my attention back to my sister. “I’m sorry, I gotta go, Madyson.” Hearing her sob into the phone, I realize things may be more serious than I first assumed. Madyson is a lot of things, but a crier is not one of them, when it comes to our parents. Before I give it a second thought, I relent. “Can you get a ride to my apartment? You can stay until this blows over.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, trying to get her crying under control.
She hangs up as I do, and then I turn to face the man whose gaze is burning into my backside.
“Mr. Walton,” I greet, putting on the fake smile my mother taught me to perfection.
“I noticed you hadn’t logged into your email yet, just checking to see if you were in.”
Feeling insecure as my supervisor stands there, taking me in, I reach down to smooth out my skirt, to realize my arm is sticky from my run in with the Coal guy. My broken shoe, stained suit jacket, sticky arm, and personal phone call all add up to show him just what a truly inept employee he has.
“I’m sorry,” I say lamely.
“We have our weekly assignments meeting at ten today, instead of nine-thirty. See you there, Miss Powell.”
The rest of my day passes in a blur of one mishap after another. The printer decided to eat my sales report. While trying to unjam the caught papers, I popped the wrong little spring, rendering the whole thing useless. Lunch should have been safe, yet one distraction and ketchup dropped directly on my white shirt, dead center of my boobs, equaled me becoming a target for attention all day long. Why yes, world, please stare at my boobs. Unfortunately, I am not Aimee with her fake breasts. Having a man look at me below eye level is utterly unnerving.
After spending as much time as I can hiding my feet under my desk to avoid having to wear the broken shoe, I face the flapping heel once more to make my way to my car. All should have been well, but alas, it is not. My keyless remote fails. Fumbling with my keys, I scratch the doors of my little sedan, and my heel gives out again, causing my ankle to roll and me to fall to the pavement below. This is the endless day of crap.
I get home, walking up to my doorstep, barefoot and limping, and there sits Madyson, head on her knees, quiet. One thing my sister is not would be quiet. When I unlock my door, she doesn’t move.
“Madyson, come on.”
Following me inside, she carries her backpack and a duffle bag. I head into my kitchen to fix a frozen pizza for dinner. I don’t have much, but she shouldn’t be here long. We can make do. I look over at her and take in her swollen eyes, red cheeks, and defeated demeanor.
“You wanna talk about it?” I ask gently.