Page 103 of Dirty Roulette
And we filed it.
Charlie is officially a missing person.
Chapter thirty-nine
Payton
Itried college today. I went to practice, did most of my missing assignments. I step out of the Uber and walk up the porch steps to the trashy trailer I moved back into. I say nothing. Mum tells me to stay in the dorms but there is no way I’m staying there.
Clearly the videos and pictures Brody posted are still trending on his stupid dirty laundry website. My phone won’t stop blowing up. Every five minutes, someone else is calling me from an unknown number. I’m mortified. I’m going to have to live with being an easy S-L-U-T, even though I’m a virgin. If I change my number I’ll have to start spilling the tea to Mum, and I don’t want to fess up to a damned thing. The disappointment in her eyes is the last thing I need.
Rey lounges on the couch. He’s wearing one of his cutoff shirts and a black pair of shorts that were popular for maybe thirty seconds in the 80s. He’s smoking and watching whatever show he likes best out of the thirteen channels they get for free from the old satellite on theroof. It usually went to Judge Judy, and at some point, the Local News will be on.
Rey doesn’t say anything to me. He just takes in a long drag of his cigarette, and I scurry down the narrow hallway to my room.
I tidy up, make my bed, and wash a hundred pounds of laundry. Scrambling through my bathroom, I flip on the light thinking there is no logical way my life has become this bad. I put my toiletries in pleasant spots on the counter with the pit of my stomach falling on the floor knowing I don’t want to go back to that campus.
At the dining table, I spend some time on the computer working on assignments and the math program that guides me through the algebra questions. Ryder helped me so much before, and helped me bring up my grade, but now it’s slipping again.
After a good hour, Mum pulls up in the driveway in her Mustang, pissed off with her day. The purse is tossed onto the counter. A lighter snaps over a cigarette wedged between her index and middle finger. A glass of wine is filled to the brim in her other hand and she twirls it around, smelling its potency. She grew up in the 80s, with voluminous curls teased and sprayed into place. Her attitude and annoyance still resonate with the time frame. So does her metallic lip gloss and the blue eyeshadow melting off her face from a horrid day at work.
“You’re still here?” She scrunches her lips inhaling a drag of her cigarette and blowing out a puff of smoke. Her threatening eyes tell me she’ll find a belt in less than two seconds, and beat the demons out of me if she needs to. “Payt... you’re eighteen.”
“I know.” I stare at the bright computer screen, thinking the little fan humming will dull out the inevitable.
“You can’t stay here forever. Most kids your age wouldn’t be coming back to Mum’s.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just a lot going on.”
“Well, Rey and I were talking. Dodie is selling her beetle, and we think maybe getting a car would encourage you to leave the house.”
“The old cat ladies car?”
“Yes, she legally can’t drive anymore – she’s going blind. We’ll have the title ready for you tomorrow. Now excuse me, I’ve had an atrocious day.” Mum disappears to the patio in one of the old white lawn chairs, drinking her wine and inhaling her cigarettes. She flicks the ash off and keeps blackening her lungs. Rey follows and sits next to her.
My phone flashes on the table, and when I slide it over. It’s my long lost cousin's name flashing on the screen.. I swipe right, seeing the three little dots on the bottom of the screen showing me she’s typing.
Phoebe: Hey girl!
Phoebe: How’s it going?
Payton: I dunno... I left college and I’m back in my bat cave.
Phoebe: You’ll be whiter than a ghost if you keep hiding in there.
Payton: Yeah...
Phoebe: What’s going on? Why are you back in that damn trailer, it smells.
Payton: I fucked up.
Phoebe: How?
Payton: I dunno...
Phoebe: You’re kidding me. You’re not going to tell me?
Payton:It’s a long story, and I don’t feel like typing it all out.
