Page 24 of Caged
“Why don’t you call your upright citizen of a husband and ask him for money?”
“I’m prohibited from contacting him, and you know that.”
“What about his cousins or his sister?”
“You mean the one you snubbed for Christmas? Yeah, I heard about that, Monroe. I got an earful from your Aunt Nikki. She said you didn’t so much as call to wish them a Merry Christmas.”
I scoff a bitter laugh. “Why would I call her? She’s not family. Besides, I don’t see her picking up the phone to reach out.”
“Where were you over Christmas?” my mom interjects.
“Waiting fucking tables,” I sneer.
“Oh, then you do have cash. I’m sure those perky tits of yours made good money.”
“I was waitressing, not sucking dick on the corner,” I snap.
“Language!” she scolds, which is ludicrous coming from the woman who fucked her way to a prison sentence. My grudge isn’t so much with my stepdad – as far as temperament goes, he was always decent to me, and tolerated far more verbal abuse from my mom than he should. But he was involved in some shady shit. I remember being eight and watching him count stacks of cash on our living room coffee table; my mom by hisside with a cigarette dangling from her mouth. His‘cousins’, although I’m not convinced there was any blood relation, were always in and out of the house.
I mostly kept to my room, but when he and my mom were charged with multiple accounts of money laundering four years later, it all made sense. As a twelve-year-old, I didn’t fully understand how money laundering worked, but it didn’t surprise me to learn my mom had been a willing accomplice. Once my stepdad, Kerry, came into our lives, all of a sudden, my mom started wearing designer clothes and a brand-new white Mercedes magically appeared in our driveway.
She’s so fucking dumb. Both of them, actually. Rule number one of being involved with organized crime is don’t act like you’re involved with organized crime. Don’t buy hundred-thousand-dollar cars and Chanel handbags when you could barely put food on the table six months prior.
“Listen, I don’t have much time left on my phone card, so just send me some money, will you?”
I sigh. “I’ll drop a few hundred in your commissary account. Just give me a few days. Things are really busy at school.”
“That’s my sweet girl. I knew you weren’t completely ungrateful for everything I did for you, after all. And call your Aunt Nikki. She only wants to make sure you’re okay, Monroe. She means well. It’s got to be scary, being all on your own.”
No, it’s a fucking delight, I want to yell, but I instead mumble something about calling my stepdad’s sister and hang up. Nicole, or Nikki for short, is not my aunt – not by blood – and my personal position on the matter is I owe her nothing.
I’m preoccupied with my seething thoughts when I hear my name. Turning, I see a black BMW roll to a stop on the street beside me.
“Get in,” Kieren shouts from the driver’s seat. I debate ignoring him, since that is what he’s done to me for the past fewweeks, but it’s freezing, my fingers are numb from holding my phone, and the idea of a warm car is too tempting to resist.
“Came to your senses?” Kieren asks when I shut the passenger-side door.
I roll my eyes at him.
“I thought you’d ghosted me again,” he says.
“Kieren, you’re the one who ghosted me! Each time I text you back, you don’t respond for days. I’m sorry I was preoccupied with classes and new member events the one time I didn’t get back to you right away.”
“That’s not at all accurate, but okay,” he snips. I think he’s joking, but I can never tell with him. “Do you have somewhere to be right now?” he asks.
“I was headed to DG.”
“Hmm. Well, now you’re headed home with me to Sigma.”
“Only if you’re going to give me answers,” I complain.
He rolls his neck and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. I can’t tell if he’s frustrated or contemplating telling me the truth.
“I’m not getting out of this car until you tell me why you didn’t return to Dornell last semester,” I say in my most defiant tone.
“You forget that I’m significantly stronger than you,” he says with an unamused smirk.
“Fine, I’m not fucking you until you tell me what happened.”
