Page 60 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
But then Evie stopped it from happening. Standing next to them as they rolled across the grass, trying to rip each other apart, she stopped their battle when she spoke in that eerie way that sounded like Laura Jean. Ben picked up on it immediately and nearly collapsed when he heard what sounded like the woman he loved speaking.
“I’ll need to get a job first,” he spoke evenly, not wanting his mother to hear the panic in his voice. “Can you give me some time?”
“A month.” She polished off the remainder of her wine faster than she gobbled up those little cakes she ate every afternoon. No longer concerned about keeping up with appearances, Helen had chosen to wallow in every indulgence possible. “That should give you time to secure something.”
“Yeah, but I’ll need to find a place to live, and there are deposits to pay for apartments.”
He nearly puffed his chest with pride at knowing the odds and ends of what went into him and the kids making it in the world on their own. He had investigated it when Vivian asked for a divorce.
“One month, Charles.”
A few things in life would never change. The sky would always be blue, water would always be wet, and Helen Fairweather would always and forever be a heartless hag.
Charlie knew the monster well, having been the sole one of his siblings to be “loved” by her. She hated Ben since he first began growing in her womb, and Trevor’s arrival only made the whole motherhood situation worse. However, once they got out of diapers and Helen realized she could use her sons to her advantage, all bets were off. Pawns in her game of life, none of them were ever safe.
For himself, she dangled him in front of debutantes, promising them marriage to the Fairweather golden boy while she whored Ben out to their mothers or grandmothers, all in the name of connections. With Trevor, she forced him to serve as her ears, listening to the gossip from the shadows since no one paid him attention.
Helen never pretended to love them, and he truly didn’t think she was capable of it. Being tolerated by her was the best one could hope for, and it would seem he was failing yet again in that department.
“I’ll start looking for a job in the morning.”
With her gaze locked on the flames, Helen chuckled. “You could always ask Ben for a job.”
The joke missed its mark by a long shot. Charlie would never speak to his brother again for the remainder of his life. The day he buried Livy left no doubt in his mind that Ben would kill him if given the chance.
“That won’t be necessary,” he replied. “I was actually thinking of approaching your brother and seeing if he might have a position for me.”
Helen nearly dropped her wine goblet, the chair squeaking double time when she flopped around to face him. “You will do no such thing,” she hissed, the wrinkles covering every inch of her face deepening in their outrage. “You will not embarrass me.”
Before becoming a Fairweather, his mother had been a Powell. While not as wealthy and powerful as the Fairweathers, the Powells held a tight grip on the Dallas real estate market.
“Me?” he scoffed, leaning across the arm of his chair. “Are you kidding?”
She didn’t scare him anymore. This pathetic woman next to him wasn’t the she-devil that raised him. Helen was a caricature of her formerself, wasting away to the sounds of the Home Shopping Network blaring on the TV.
Lumbering to her feet, she tugged at her polyester top to ensure it covered the protruding belly permanently hanging around her midsection. Every piece of clothing she owned was two sizes too small since she refused to acknowledge that the shit ton of food she ate to combat depression might not be a great idea.
“You will stay away from them.” Helen pointed a finger in his face. “I mean it, Charles.”
He was half tempted to pop the gaudy fake press-on nail off the finger aimed between his eyes. “Or what?”
Blinking rapidly, Helen choked on her next words. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Is this what power felt like? This absolute rush of energy punching its way through your veins? If it was, he liked it.
“It won’t be pretty if you back me into a corner.”
Rising to stand, he marveled at how small and frail she seemed. When did this happen? When did this viper shrivel up into nothing more than a garden lizard?
“Does your family know where you live?” he asked. “How you live?”
“Charles—”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
“Listen to me. I have plans for you that don’t need to involve them. When I go, this house will be yours.” Placing her hands on his chest, Helen smoothed the wrinkles building on the cheap fabric of his shirt. “The villa in St. Thomas is also yours. I have it all laid out in a trust. It’s not much, but the properties will be worth something to you one day.”
No, they wouldn’t. He could maybe pull a couple hundred thousand out of this place, perhaps a little more, but not enough to do anything with. The upkeep on the villa would eat any income he could garner from it, making the property virtually worthless.
