Page 65 of Poetry of Flowers

Kayden let go of my knee and leaned forwards, repeating the process and typing in his code.

Again, it beeped, and the same window popped up.

“No, that can’t be, the code is right.”

The server rolled his eyes.

“Maybe there is no money on your card.”

“There is money on the card. More than enough.” Kayden looked stressed when he got out his phone to check his banking app.

0.00$

“What on Earth! I looked this morning, and it was more than enough- the bastard” he cursed and stood up.

“I’ll be right back. I have to call someone.”

“You can’t leave this diner without paying, boy!” The woman behind the counter called over who must have heard the conversation.

“Hey, Murphy, take that and let the kids leave.”

A Guy, who looked like he was in his mid-twenties, shoved a few notes in the server’s hand.

His head was buzzed, and he was wearing only leather. He looked like a biker. At least that was how I had always imagined them, full of tattoos.

“You want to pay for them, Devon?” Server Murphy asked, and the guy named Devon nodded.

“You know I love helping out some helpless teenagers, was once one of them” he laughed, and I watched from the corner of my eye how Kayden didn’t even thank the guy as he held his phone to his ear and left the diner with an angry expression.

Why did I feel like there was something else going on that I didn’t know about?

Kayden wouldn’t have secrets from me, that was one of our rules, no secrets.

ChapterTwenty

KAYDEN

Just a moment ago my bank account was bursting and now everything was gone.

I knew exactly who did this because the only person who had access to everything was Patrick Kidd. He was on everything until I’d turn eighteen next year. My mom hated managing money at home, so she let him do all of that. As if he wasn’t already controlling everything else in that house.

I walked into a side street next to the diner and called my so-called father. He picked up after letting me wait for a few tortuous moments.

“It’s your own fault, boy.” His voice sounded clinical as always when no one else was there.

“You can’t do that, Patrick.” I tried to keep my tone calm so as not to make the situation worse.

“Oh, now I’m Patrick,” he sighed.

“You see, if you want to act up against us, then do it on your own, Kayden. I’m not interested in supporting your actions any further than this.”

There was nothing I could say to change any of what was happening.

When I was ten years old, we went to one of my father’s events to celebrate the new Kidd’s summer collection. Faith was only seven at this time, and she was grumpy because she was tired and cranky. Our father didn’t let her sleep because that would ruin the photos, and they couldn’t wait.

Mom was too invested in a conversation with some guy who was selling the original artwork of one of her favorite paintings. That’s why she waved her daughter off, who had tears in her eyes because she needed some rest. Nash and I had spotted the wardrobe filled with beautiful dresses. My brother carried our sister to the empty room while I had thrown the clothes to the ground, so we had a little nest where we could rest together and didn’t have to spend the entire day somewhere we didn’t want to be. Our sister had fallen asleep in Nash’s arms. Faith always felt the safest around Nash, he was our protector in a way I couldn’t explain. Of course, he also protected me from our father’s anger, but he was the one taking us to watch movies the entire night in his room when we had a bad day. He made the world more fun for my sister and me.

The storm came when the actual show began and the models came in to find that three children had ruined their chance to work with Kidd. I had never seen my father so angry; he had dragged me out by my arm, not listening to Nash telling him he made the nest for Faith. He drove me home, but didn’t say a word until we arrived. A slap to the cheek because I misbehaved, but the worst part was the consequences I didn’t deserve.

---