Page 132 of Unwritten Rules

“How are you supposed to protect me when it feels like everyone else is ready to jump at me with claws? Before I was even aware of what I inherited, other people were miles ahead to take what I had. You can’t undo years of dominos falling.”

James cut the tension with two bags of food.My savior.The smell improved my nausea, and I didn’t even realize that my stomach was as hungry as it was. Eating was hard after all the shit hitting the fan. And that body on the ground...

“Miss Montgomery?”

My eyes refocused on James staring at me with a fatherly type of concern. The only other person who looked at me like that was Kelly. She got concerned when I didn’t act like myself—lately that was a lot of the time. She didn’t know what to make of my headspace. When I lacked a normal appetite, she tried to get me to eat or watch a movie. Despite her trying to help me, I couldn’t help but feel strange around her–she acted odd lately.

Homework felt too weird to complete when I was dealing with people recklessly killing each other and snitching to their handlers.

“Are you alright?”

He was still there in the front seat trying to hand me my portion of the food order. I wanted to take it, but my hands wouldn’t move. My stomach didn’t feel quite right again.

The door opened automatically. My body knew what it needed to do. I was on the side of the car dry heaving again. Throwing up was becoming normal and I was sure I needed medication of some sort for the mental breakdowns that felt never-ending.

James was there. Brent was there. Someone was holding my hair and rubbing my back. Tears flowed freely and I couldn’t throw up no matter how desperately I wanted to. It was all stomach acid and spit. God, it hurt.

“I think I’m hungry now.”

––––––––

My bed was cozy asJames went on about basic business topics and how to read certain documents. He knew I wasn’t paying much attention, but he also knew that I needed some form of distraction for my aching and broken mind.

I threw my food up when I got home. Brent and Kelly chatted about who knows what when I passed out from throwing up. James sat with the other guy outside for a bit while I was taking a disassociation induced nap.

“... to find financial irregularities.”

Like I said, I wasn’t paying much attention.

“Can you repeat that last statement?” I was staring at the ceiling, lost in my own thoughts.

“Learning to understand quarterly reports and the balance sheets will help if you are looking to find financial irregularities.”

“Has anyone been keeping track of those documents? I think I want the name of the person who handles reports like these. They may be connected to the people who had a hand in trying to destroy my mother’s legacy.”

He looked surprised almost. Like the documents he talked about were in the hands of someone capable. But, from what I’ve learned lately, no one was to be trusted. My guard would be up and strong around everyone who wasn’t me.

“Mr. Evans would have the name of anyone handling finances. It may be more than one person and if you’re correct in your assumptions, it would be tearing down the company leadership and putting it back together. A feat in itself outside of keeping daily operations going.”

If the financial portion of the company was being handled by those wanting to do us dirty, I didn’t want to know who else was inside the walls that had sledgehammers waiting to tear down the walls. Another worry to add to the list.

I sighed and resigned myself to not getting distracted like I needed to be. “I think our tutoring session is over. This has been enlightening, and you’ve helped me tremendously, but I’m getting overwhelmed again and I don’t think I have another dry heaving session in me tonight.”

A sad smile came over his face. Since being assigned to me, I think he started understanding how horribly ignorant I was. It was like seeing someone transferred into an alternate reality—and that reality was a horror movie—and watching them flounder until the killer finally stabbed them to death. “I understand. I’ll let Mr. Vaughn know.”

“Brent or Augustus?”

“The one patiently waiting for you to let him in.”

Oh, don’t tell me that James was going soft for Brent now.“I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“Then I’ll let you kick him out yourself. He won’t leave if I tell him to.”

He was right. Brent was stubborn and wouldn’t leave if I told him to either.

Not two seconds after James left, Brent was leaning in my doorway. “Feeling any better? I bought some anti-nausea meds while you were out cold.” He shook the bottle at me.

I held my hand out for them, silently agreeing to let him in to hand them to me.

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