Remembering home, p.11
Remembering Home, page 11
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Aiden pulled the van into Angel’s driveway, putting it into park. He noticed a black Mercedes parked in the street out front. His gut almost dropped through his boots. Only one man he knew would rent such an extravagant ride. The interior light switched on as one shiny black door opened revealing Brenton Thomas. The bastard had caught up to him. Showtime.
Dressed in a black designer suit, blond hair now mostly gray, he was still an imposing figure. Aiden just wasn’t affected anymore. The key to severing his father’s control over him could actually be to give no fucks. He didn’t understand that until he had something real to care about.
Chelsea and Greyson pulled up behind them. Their headlights beaming through the rear of Angel’s car. Chelsea opened her door at the same time as Aiden, and they both stood to watch the unwanted visitor storm towards Aiden.
I guess drinks and conversation are out.
His father’s steps faltered when he spotted Chelsea.
“Well, hi there, Daddy. I’d say it’s good to see you, but it’s pretty goddamn awful. You need to crawl back to your society buddies, and leave us the hell alone.”
Hey There, Daddy
Aiden’s head whipped around, mouth agape at Chelsea’s words. What?
She turned to look at Aiden, apology written all over her face. “Honey, I was going to tell you tonight. I’m sorry. I wanted to make sure you weren’t slicker than owl shit, like this one. And that you were stayin’.”
“Chelsea, always unpleasant to hear you. Still uncouth as always. Prettier than your mother, though, thanks to my contribution to your genes. I hope you’re making use of what I gave you to support yourself. The good Lord knows you didn’t get my brains.”
What the fuck is going on?
“Hey! Watch your mouth, old man.” Greyson joined in the fray.
“Praise Jesus for that one, otherwise I’d be dumb as dog shit,” Chelsea quipped in reply to her father. Greyson barked out a short laugh at the reminder that his wife could hold her own.
Brenton’s face turned red, his mouth set in a hard line and eyebrows drawn low and tight. “Aiden. Pack your things, you’re leaving with me. We have an event to attend. I won’t have you letting down your mother.”
Chelsea crossed her arms over her chest, cocking her hip and raising her eyebrow at Aiden. Angel had moved to stand between the two cars, the headlights putting her on center stage. Aiden went to her, taking her hand and pulling her to stand with him directly in front of his father.
“No.” He wanted to scream about how his mother had always let him down, but what was the point? His father would scoff, or argue. He had no clue about a child’s needs. Aiden was a possession—a trophy. The shine was coming off. Tonight.
“I have a sister and you didn’t tell me? You cheated on your wife. Does Mom know?” As soon as he’d said the words, everything became clear. His mother’s disinterest in him. Their interactions as a family, all carefully planned for the watchful eyes of society, when behind closed doors they were strangers. His parents had done a deal. His mother would provide Sir with a legitimate heir and fill the role of supportive wife for the cameras, in exchange for a place high in the social order and a plump bank account.
Air squeezed in and out of the man’s flared nostrils, Aiden was surprised he couldn’t see steam coming from Sir’s ears. Any minute now, the foot stomping would begin. “You don’t get to judge me, you little shit. She’s not your sister! You’re choosing this tramp over your own family.” His father stabbed a finger at Angel’s face, coming dangerously close to making contact. “This is a mistake you’ll regret, Boy.”
Aiden angled himself between Angel and his father, grabbing a handful of the bastard’s shirt and lifting. “Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare. Insult her, or put any of your person anywhere near her again. Do you fucking hear me, you sorry sack of shit?” Each word hit the back of his clenched teeth and ricocheted inside his head, turning up the pressure.
He barely registered a soft touch on his lower back. He didn’t want Angel’s voice of reason to talk him down. He wanted to expel the anger that had been festering for so many years. He let it splinter him, targeting the fragments into the marionette now hanging from his fists.
The man’s hands flailed over Aiden’s hold, trying desperately to free himself. Aiden easily had six inches on his father, but they were eye level now.
“Let go of me!” His father’s voice cracked with fear.
Stale whiskey breath gusted over Aiden’s face, and his father’s jelly stomach heaved in and out pushing against Aiden’s chest. The idiot was driving drunk, sharing the roads Aiden had just been driving on with Angel in the car. He could feel the muscles straining in his neck as the pressure gauge hit the red. “You have zero power over me. How does it feel to be the helpless one?” He dropped his father, who stumbled back losing his footing and landing ass first on the grass.
“Do you really think you’ll be happy here? A man like you, a celebrity used to traveling the world? Having critical acclaim heaped on you?”
“Hell, yes! I don’t want any of that meaningless shit. All I need is here.”
The older man frowned for a second before a cunning shadow crossed his face, his mouth twisting into a sneer. He struggled to his feet, brushing his hands together. “Did you tell her that you have another bastard child? That you’ve abandoned another pregnant girl since her.”
The touch at Aiden’s back disappeared with his father’s verbal blow. He heard more than one strangled gasp followed by hurried footfalls. He wrenched his body around in time to see Angel yank the door open, with Chelsea hot on her heels.
“Angel!” Her name tore from his throat.
Greyson didn’t move, mouth turned down in disapproval, his eyes were two shards of flint stabbing into Aiden. “Like father like son. Is that how it is, Aiden?”
Aiden just shook his head clenching his fists, turning away from his new friend. He heard the click of the lock as Grey joined the women inside the house.
“You lying sack of shit. You’ll do anything, and say anything to win your case, won’t you? It’s fuckers like you who give lawyers a bad name.”
“We were meant for bigger things than what this town could ever give us.”
“Don’t you fucking speak as if you and I have anything in common. There is no ‘we’.” Aiden clenched his fists tighter, probably splitting open his wounds, but he didn’t give two shits. “Give me your keys and get in the fucking car.”
Brenton smiled in triumph. “That’s the last time you speak to me with disrespect, Boy. Don’t need that southern slut and her bastards to drag our name through their dirty motor oil. Let’s go.”
Aiden’s fist snapped out before he even had time to think. He saw his father fall to the grass in slow motion through a field of vision stained with red Vaseline. His knees hit the grass, blood dripped from split knuckles. High pitched ringing set the soundtrack to his explosion of rage. In his mind, he saw his fists pummeling their bullseye, but rough hands pulled at his shoulders preventing him from completing his violent desires.
“Get out of here, both of you. Angel doesn’t need your bad blood staining her lawn.” Grey shoved Aiden, making him tumble back in a parody of his father. Grey stalked back to the house as if he was done taking out the trash.
Aiden’s harsh breaths felt like saws cutting his chest open. He rested his forearms on bent knees and hung his head.
Fuck! He’d lost her again, through his own stupidity. Sir strikes again. He didn’t even get the chance to explain. She wouldn’t give it to him now, not after he lost his control.
Fuck! Fucking fucker. He glared at the lump of flesh curled in a ball, clutching at his eye.
“Pick yourself up and get in the car,” he growled, snatching the keys off the grass and stomping to the driver’s side of the Merc. He sat gripping the steering wheel, glaring through the windscreen. A minute later, his father slumped in the seat.
Aiden took off towards Saunders’ Hardware. “You better listen carefully because I’m only going to say this once. You will leave here in the morning and never return. Stay the hell away from my family. I am no longer your son. My father died two weeks ago.
“I will organize for my things to be packed and removed. If you choose to interfere, the story of your infidelity and subsequent abandonment of your child will spread through the media like wildfire. I will ruin you. Do you understand?”
Silence.
Aiden glanced at the man beside him. His father sat seething, a look Aiden was familiar with, but the effect was lost with one eye swollen shut and the man’s disheveled appearance.
“Nod if you understand me.”
Brenton Thomas’ head dipped. With that one gesture, he finally felt the puppet strings snap. He was free.
He’d never felt more lost.
_____
Angel sat at the kitchen table, staring through the back windows at the magical flying, flickering light show. Her happy place alight and alive, while she was dying from a fatal wound to her heart.
She dug her fingers into the wooden seat of her chair, her trembling so out of control she feared she would tumble to the floor. Maybe she should just curl up on the floor, then she couldn’t fall any further, physically at least.
Her lids scratched across her dry eyes, tear ducts too shocked and exhausted to work properly.
“It doesn’t make sense.” She jumped as Chelsea’s voice intruded on her internal battle. “You saw how he was with those kids; he’d stop a bullet for them. If he does have another child maybe there’s a good reason why he isn’t with them.”
“Y—” Angel’s voice failed, just as useless as her tear ducts. She coughed. “You’re defending him?”
“I would take his word over that Brenton Thomas’ any day. I don’t know my brother as well as you do, but I think I’m a pretty good judge of character. He didn’t choose to abandon you, like my father did with my mother. C’mon, Ange, there’s foul play wherever that man goes. You know that better than anyone.”
Angel rocked back and forth in her chair, still staring outside. She felt a hand smoothing down her shoulder. “Do you want me to stay? I can send Grey home to the kids.”
Angel shook her head, biting her lips. “Go home, I’ll be fine.” Her voice came out surprisingly strong.
Chelsea kissed the top of Angel’s head, the echo of flip-flops against the tiles fading as she and Grey left.
On autopilot, Angel went through her nightly lockup and bedtime routine. Sliding under the cool sheets, she focused on the ceiling. The old house emitted its own noises as it settled for the night. This place was a comfort to her. She’d be okay, even when she was alone. She’d be okay. The mantra was set on repeat in her brain, circulating the nerve corridors. Not helping at all.
She’d lost him again.
His eyes had turned black, empty. His body turning into a weapon with the force of his rage. She didn’t know who he was in that instant, and it scared her. How many women had he done this to? Was he more like his father than she thought? Capable of callous abandonment? They’d left together. He was probably half way to Chicago by now.
She thanked God that her kids weren’t here to witness the atrocious behavior on display. Protecting them was her priority. How was she going to explain all this to them?
As the shock wore off, Angel curled into the fetal position and wept.
Passed Out Drunk
Aiden sat on an old chair in Saunders’ apartment. His father’s snores disrupted the peace, or lack of it. The dove with the olive branch wasn’t going to be visiting his life unless Angel was holding it.
Thomas senior had passed out as Aiden dumped him face down on the sofa. He was not like his piece of shit father. Getting a girl pregnant and abandoning her. The man was a giant stain on any life that he touched. He questioned why his mother had stayed in the marriage, but he finally understood it was merely an arrangement.
Chelsea was his sister. That meant that he had nephews, and Grey was his brother-in-law. This was unbelievable.
His father had taken more than he could have imagined, all because he didn’t want to damage his precious reputation, and thought of a person’s value only in terms of what they could offer him.
Aiden took a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle he’d found in the back seat of the Mercedes. He wasn’t going to get drunk. He just needed to take the edge off a little while he waited for the sack of shit to wake up. The car keys were in his other hand, just waiting to get his father out of his town.
The apartment door flew open, sending a loud crack into the room as it banged against the doorstop. Chelsea stomped in slamming her purse and keys on the table. “Is it true?” Her eyes drilled into him, daring him to lie.
“No.” He twisted the bottle in slow circles on the table, staring as the amber liquid sloshed around.
“Well, what the hell, Snapper?”
He looked up at her confused face, examining it for any resemblance. The blonde hair was a lighter shade than his, probably with a little chemical encouragement. The shape of her nose, yeah that was the same. Her eyes were a different color—but the same shape. How had he not seen it?
He looked back at the courage in a bottle, not wanting another drop, but drawing strength from its proximity. “Earlier in my career, when I was doing fashion shoots, there was one model who became infatuated with me. I didn’t see it at the time. We dated casually for a couple of months before I ended it. She was ... needy. That’s not commitment phobia speaking. I was genuinely concerned for her mental health.
“She started to stalk me. Three months later, she barged into a shoot looking very pregnant, demanding marriage and financial support because she couldn’t get work. I knew it wasn’t mine straight away. My father made it all go away. I made sure she got the help she needed. End of story.”
“Shit.” Chelsea plonked herself in a chair. “How’d you know it wasn’t yours?”
“I always wrap it… and I’ve had the snip. Didn’t want to be a father after the stellar example I was shown.” Aiden leaned back, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table.
Chelsea blinked a few times then cocked her eyebrow. “That reversible?”
“Hmph. Yeah. Do you think I’m ever going to need to reverse it?”
“I’m not the person to ask.” She tipped her chin at the sofa. “What are ya gonna do with that?” She screwed her nose up as if there were a putrid smell in the air.
“Take him back to the airport as soon as he’s awake and I’ve calmed down.”
“Then what?”
“I’m collecting my stuff and I’m moving here for good. My kids need me, and Angel needs to see that I’m serious. I could use some help finding a place, and a car. You know anyone who could do that?”
“Uh huh. You’re lookin’ at her.”
He nodded, just managing to turn the corners of his lips up for a second.
Chelsea placed her hands flat on the table, tracing the wood grain. “My mama moved us here two days before you left. I was a bit of a hell raiser, constantly in all sorts of trouble. The idea was that I would get to know my brother, have some family around me. Well, Sir Sack of Shit wouldn’t have it. He tried to pay my mama off when she was pregnant, telling her to get rid of me, and then asking her not to put his name on the birth certificate.”
“You know, he came here three months after you left. Did the same thing to Angel. Hank threw him out on his ass. Called him a Bowsie. I think that means he’s a waste of space, or somethin’.”
Aiden tightened his hands into fists. “I’d have called him worse.”
“We drove past your house the day we arrived and spotted you further down, talking to a red head. We only saw her from the back, as she sat on the tire swing. Mama took me to our house and went into town to see Brenton Thomas. Well, you know how he reacted to our arrival. I felt responsible for the pain y’all had suffered for a year, until I grew up and put the blame on the real culprit.
“My first day at high school, I saw Angel and knew she had to be your girl. She was a wreck. It only got worse when she found out she was pregnant, and then to have that visit—”
“Anyways, he refused to tell us where you were and didn’t come back. Hank found out where your father worked. He flew to Chicago and followed him home, demanding to see you. You must have been at a boarding school. Hank loved you. He was worried sick about you and his heartsick daughter. Then you decided to be a nomad with no address. So, there ya have it, our sad little tale.”
“Fuck! I was there locked in my room. I didn’t know he’d come.”
That son of a bitch had tried to stop his grandchildren from being born, or having his name. Aiden wanted to maim him. He wanted to destroy his father, but that would only hurt the people Aiden loved. The innocent bystanders in his father’s sick game of take and tarnish.
Chelsea gathered her stuff. “I’ll leave you two alone. You let me know when you’ll be back and I’ll have a car and a place ready for you. Let Angel cool down a bit before you try talking to her. I don’t think she’ll want to see your face just yet. I’ll work on her.”
“Thanks, Chelsea.”
“What are sisters for?” She gave him a warm smile and winked as she left.
_____
Angel dug her gloved hands into the damp soil. The organic smell she associated with her happy place did little to calm her soul and mend her heart. Weed after weed flew through the air forming a pile of unwanted trash. Pity she couldn’t weed out her life. She’d known the brute would be back. He’d never be able to stand for his son living in a Podunk town with a mechanic’s daughter and their illegitimate children.
She had smelled manipulation when she saw the skeevy look cross Brenton’s face, but Aiden didn’t deny his father’s accusation, and he hadn’t mentioned another child. That’s what hurt. She had been completely blindsided by that assh—brute, once again.
