Page 69 of The Revenge Game
Like the choice to get revenge on your high school bully when he doesn’t recognize you?
He’s right that money gives you choices, but from my experience, sometimes it gives you too many, making it impossible to pick the right path.
I try to focus on Justin, who continues to speak. “I’d love more money so I could help my mom more. I’d love to buy her a house so she can settle in one place and not have to worry about the landlord raising the rent.”
“How’s your mom doing? Is she enjoying her new car?” I seize the chance to try to steer this conversation in a different direction.
Justin leans back in his chair, toying with his napkin on his lap. “Good. I think she likes driving it. And because it’s so much more reliable, she could get a job at a craft store farther away from her apartment, which she seems to enjoy more than the diner she was working at before.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“That’s the thing, right? We say money doesn’t buy happiness, but it does help get you out of bad situations. In fact, sometimes it’s the only way out.”
He glances up at me, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen his eyes a more vivid blue-green as he stares at me.
“My mom was trapped for a long time in a really bad relationship with my stepfather. And a big reason she didn’t leave was because of money.”
I don’t know what to say. Suddenly, my cliché “money doesn’t buy happiness” seems hollow and naïve.
Justin’s shoulders hunch as he continues to speak. “That’s the thing about controlling people.” His voice is raw, like it’s been scraped across something painful. “They make you believe you can’t survive without them. My stepfather… He’d tell my mom she was worthless and no one else would want her. And because she couldn’t afford to leave, she started believing him.”
My throat feels tight, like someone’s wrapped their hands around it and squeezed.
“That must have been hard to watch,” I manage to get out.
Justin runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it was. I’d lie awake at night listening to him berate her, making all these plans about how I’d help her once I was old enough.” His voice goes quiet. “The day I got my first real paycheck, I opened a secret bank account for her. I was living in corporate housing with other guys in Houston so she couldn’t come to live with me, but every commission, every bonus went straight into that bank account. Bobby Ray never knew.”
Oh my god.
“How long did it take to save enough money?”
“Eight months. Eight months of overtime and networking events I hated and saying yes to every client who wanted to schedule meetings at seven a.m.” His smile holds a sharp edge like it’s not really a smile. “But seeing her face when I showedher the account balance… she cried when she realized she finally had a choice.” Justin swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “She said it was the first time she’d felt hope in years.”
The mixture of pain and pride on Justin’s face makes me want to reach over the table to comfort him. My fingers twitch with the need to touch him. I have to restrain myself.
“And she got away from him okay?”
“Yeah, I mean, it wasn’t the easiest because he tried to stop her. Threatened to ruin her credit, said he’d make sure she’d never be able to rent anywhere decent. But I had enough saved by then to help her find somewhere new. It isn’t much, just a tiny apartment above a laundromat, but it’s hers.”
My mouth feels dry.
Justin had mentioned at St Paul’s how he and his mom lived with his stepfather when he was in high school. A stepfather Justin then did everything he could to help his mother escape from.
My chest aches as the pieces start clicking into place. Justin’s careful kindness with Amos, his protectiveness of his cats, the way he always seems to notice when someone needs help. All of it born from him spending years watching someone he loved being torn down.
The Justin paradox I’ve been struggling with, the difference between the high school version of Justin and who he is now, is suddenly becoming clearer.
He was obviously dealing with a lot more than I realized back then.
What did the research say? People who feel powerless often become bullies themselves.
I try to wrench my mind away from that thought to continue the conversation with Justin.
“Did your mother leave your stepfather before or after you came to London?”
“She left him about two years before I came over here. DTL Enterprises offered me a job in London for way more money, and I knew I’d be able to help her more. She walked away without a single cent from Bobby Ray, so she has no retirement savings, pension, or assets. She basically had to start from scratch at fifty. I tried to get her to come with me, but she didn’t want to leave her friends in Texas.”
“What about you? Did you find it hard to leave Texas?”
