Page 41 of Let Me
I call Mom because I need to check on her. Especially if I won’t be able to get home anytime soon. I sink into a chair in the Starbucks drinking area in the airport, sans coffee of course, and Mom must hear the nervous edge in my voice.
“Everything okay, hon?” she asks me, concerned.
I swallow. My mouth feels dry. But I’ve never depended on Mom for much, and now, she depends on me. It might not be fair, but I forgot what that was a long time ago.
“Everything is great,” I lie.
“You’ll be home tomorrow?”
I almost laugh out loud. I want to tell her I may never be home, or at least not for however long it takes me towalkfrom Toronto to Raleigh, but because I’ve always been a decent liar, I just lie again.
“Yep, I think so. Adam wants to take me a few places up north, so I might be a little later than expected.”
She swallows this lie. I don’t think she’d ever really want to know what I’m up to here. I’d like to think she’d take my side, but it’sMom.She probably wouldn’t.
We hang up, and then I hold my head in my hands, give my bag at my feet a little kick. An adult tantrum. That’s what I’m having right now.
My next call is to Tyler, but it’s only nine in the morning in B.C. and he doesn’t answer. Tyler has always been a night owl, and I imagine going on an artist’s retreat, he is even more so. Besides, if he had answered, what was I supposed to ask him? To send me money for a fucking flight?
I can’t ask him that.
He would do it, if he had it. But I can’t ask.
I find myself grateful he didn’t answer.
But that doesn’t solve my problem.
I try my card one more time online, just to see if maybe my bank will let me go in the red, just this once. They don’t.
The credit card is maxed out—from basic living expenses—and I am so, so fucked.
Rolland Virani is a fucking bastard. If only this was the worst thing he’d ever done.
I refuse to think about Caden.
Refuse, and yet my mind trails to that night anyway.
And then it hits me.
Morgan.
Morgan Sanders hosted that party, and she was one of my closest friends in high school, next to Tyler. When Jack died and I convinced Rolland it was best I went to North Carolina for university, things fell apart for me and Morgan. Nothing awful, no backstabbing or blaming. Most people never found out about the video, after all. The Virani family certainly didn’t want it out there. And Rolland protected me, too, by blackmailing me of course.
I hover my finger over Morgan’s number in my phone.
She owns a hotel in Haven, which is just outside of Toronto. Or at least, her parents owned it, and she was set to take it over.
I slam my fist on the table but dial the number anyway. It’s not like I have much choice.
Surprisingly, she picks up on the second ring, having no idea who I am or who this number belongs to. It’s my North Carolina number. I left everything behind when I moved. Everything except Rolland.
“If this is a telemarketer, don’t waste my time.” Her tone is sharp and makes me laugh. She sounds just like she did back then.
“It’s not a telemarketer, but I’m still going to waste your time. This is Riley. Riley Larson.”
There’s silence on the other end, and I wonder if she’s going to hang up, or if she already did. But finally, she takes a long breath and says, “Riley! Oh my God. How are you?Whereare you?” She asks me a long string of questions and then finally pauses long enough to let me speak.
I laugh uneasily and my face burns as I get to the point. “I’m good, Morgan, but really…I need a big favor and if you can’t help, I swear, no hard feelings.”
