Page 80 of To Go
It’s a credit card bill.
For someone who lives so frugally, it’s the last thing I would expect to see. I look at the following few pages, and my stomach drops.
Visa.
Mastercard.
Amex.
Jesus, how many credit cards does she have? Is this what my dad was talking about when he called her a gold digger? Is this what my mother is trying to hold over her?
My mind swirls into a panic, warnings I’ve gotten from over the years about people manipulating you for wealth roaring to the forefront with a vengeance. I come from money. She could have planned this whole thing, from running into me at my show to seducing me into her bed, to going to my parents’ house. Was she casing the place? A friend in high school turned malicious once he found out how well-off we are and kept making reasons to come over, only for my mom to catch him climbing into her bedroom window to steal her jewelry in the middle of the night.
Stella doesn’t seem like someone who would do that. Then again, most people don’t.
And she didn’t tell me.
“You okay, stud?” Stella asks, scaring the hell out of me as she opens the door, sliding in with two steaming boxes of goodness.
“How do my parents know you?”
She stays quiet for a moment, her face frozen in surprise. She evaluates me for a moment, giving nothing away. “Seems you already know.”
“Tell me anyway.” I’m not letting her out of this one.
“My dad used to work for your parents’ company. Kurt Moore.”
Holy shit. I could swear the car is spinning and I clutch onto the steering wheel to steady myself. I know that name. “He was the one at that job site. When the scaffolding collapsed.” Realization dawns on me.
“Yeah,” Stella’s voice wavers. “It crushed his legs. Double amputation. Months in the hospital.”
“I remember reading the report. He was denied his insurance payout?” Kurt had been a foreman on one of my family’s sites. He was supposed to be off work, but he went in to cover for someone, another manager who couldn’t be in. He had gone in to help out with some inspections, and when he stepped out onto the scaffolding, apparently the parts were misaligned.
When he tried to go to the workers compensation board, the company fought back pretty hard. They argued that he wasn’t supposed to be on the site in the first place, he hadn’t clocked in, and they made it seem like he had tried to get injured. When the board saw the allegations and the “evidence” provided, they sided with the company and denied any kind of compensation.
It also meant that there was no black mark on the company’s record, no fine to pay, no increase in their insurance premiums. My parents took it further, alerting the health insurance company to potential fraud, voiding any kind of accident insurance that he had and prohibiting him from accessing any of his benefits.
“He got hurt, and my parents’ company ensured that he didn’t receive anything for it,” I summarize. Stella nods.
“Yeah. That’s where your parents know me from.” Her confirmation does nothing to quell the unease in my stomach. Everything starts clicking into place.
“That’s why they called you a gold digger.” Stella’s face reddens as she tries to hide it away from me, shame coloring her gorgeous porcelain skin.
“Yeah. Probably.”
“Did you know?” The question comes out before the thought has fully formed.
“Excuse me?” Stella’s icy tone cuts me to my soul. I can’t back down now. I’ve opened this can of worms.
“Did you recognize who I was, who my parents were to you and your dad when we met?” I can already tell how stupid of a question this is, but it’s like I no longer have control. The teenage boy who got taken advantage of, warned, is the one calling the shots now.
“Absolutely not!” Stella is rightfully offended. She leans away from me, putting as much distance between us as she can in the small space. I lock the doors when I see her reach for the handle. I won’t keep her here forever, but she is not getting out of this conversation.
“What is this then?” I ask brusquely, selecting the credit card statements from my pile and flashing them at her.
“None of your business,” she says as she tries to pull them from my grasp. I yank them back, refusing to let go of the damning evidence.
My parents were right. After all that, they were right.The walls are starting to close in on me.I’m never going to live this down.
