(tw: scenes with violence, abuse, and drugs.)
"So... you're saying that you got the drone, right?" I ask.
JJ paces John B's porch, and Kie is dangling her feet off the fence.
"That's what we've been trying to tell you this entire time!" JJ exclaims.
"Yeah, in half sentences and chopped up words!" I shoot back. "I barely understood a thing you were saying; you were so excited."
JJ waves his hand, dismissing my point. "Yeah, yeah. You got our point anyways."
"Guess so." I agree. "So, what are we waiting for?"
"The right weather." John B states, hopping off the porch fence. "We don't want to lose the drone."
"That's fair." I say.
"I'll call you guys when we need to go." JJ says.
"Of course you will." I chuckle.
I arrive home, and creak open the rotting door, trying to dodge the raining spiders from the door frame.
"Dad?" I call out into the empty hallway.
No response. Called it.
I make my way into the living room, fully expecting dad to be sprawled on the couch, passed out. No one is there.
A jolt of fear runs through my body. What if he's wandering the streets, getting into trouble? Or what if he's unconscious in a different country? Oh my god. What if-
Someone taps me on the shoulder, sending me into cardiac arrest.
"C." My dad's voice drawls behind me.
"Dad. You're up."
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" He asks innocently.
"Dad." I turn around to face him. His shaggy beard looks grayer than ever, his eyes dropping from the weight of his past. It hurts me to see him in this state. He doesn't even know where he is half the time. The things he does.. he doesn't even know that he does them.
"I know we've talked about this before, but," I pause, sucking in a breath. "Could you please consider going to rehab?"
Dad turns his face, a scowl deepening the wrinkles around his mouth. "I'm not some toy that's broken and needs to be fixed."
"No." I say, my tone becoming pleading. I've been down this road before, and I know how it ends. "Of course not. It's just- you're not yourself. You need help, and you'll get it at rehab."
His eyes shake from side to side and he sways on his feet.
God. What happened to you?
A tear slips from my eye before I can help it. "Dad... please. I can't stand to see you this way." I beg.
"I don't need fixing!" He yells, throwing his hands up.
"Please. You need help." Tears well up in my eyes, and I reach forward to touch his shoulder.
A flash appears before my eyes and I feel his fist connect with my face. The impact knocks me backward, and I stumble over broken bottle shards. I hold my hand gingerly to my face and wince.
"Oh god... I'm so, so sorry, C." My dad says, stretching his arms out.
"No, no. Don't fucking touch me." I say firmly, although everything inside of me is breaking apart.
Composure, Celeste.
"Fuck." I whisper, pushing my dad aside and walking to the door.
I look back at my dad, standing pathetically in the middle of the hallway.
You don't even know who you are anymore.
I leave the house, closing the door sharply behind me. Tears spill relentlessly down my cheeks as I run, somewhere, anywhere, that isn't home.
Somehow I end up in front of the local post office. I wipe away the tears and enter, the bell on the door jingling all-too merrily as I step in.
The elderly lady at the front desk looks up. She has a tag on her uniform that reads Mindy. Her eyes are immediately drawn to what I can only assume is a bruise on my face. I look away, shielding the bruise.
"Hi, um, can I use the bathroom?"
"To the left."
I push the door open and turn to look at the mirror. A broken girl stares back at me. Her face is bruised purple, and her brown eyes are dull and sullen.
I lean over the sink and splash water over my face. I watch the beads of water drip off my strands of hair.
"I won't be like him." I say with a newfound determination. "I won't become like my father. Ever."
I open the door and turn to the front desk lady, a sweet smile plastered on my face.
"May I help you?"
"Yes, actually. I was wondering if I could apply for a delivery job here."
She thinks for about .3 seconds and then nods. "Yeah."
I'm taken aback. "Yeah?" I repeat. "I'm sorry, don't I need to do an interview or fill out paperwork or something?"
"Okay, let's do an interview. What's your name?" She asks.
"..Celeste Madden."
"And how old are you?"
"18."
"Alright, you got the job. And don't worry, the only paperwork you need to do is a waiver that states that if you die, it's not our fault." She says matter-of-factly.
Well that was easy. "Okay. When can I start?"
"I'll give you your first delivery order tomorrow. Oh, and you might need this." She goes into the back room and wheels out a rusty looking bike.
I take it by the handles. "Uhm, thanks."
After filling out the forms, I leave the post office and take my bike out for a test run. The cool ocean breeze actually feels really good against my face and calms my nerves. Everything that had happened earlier today escapes my mind.
I'm riding past a cluster of bushes along the golf course, when suddenly I hear a loud thud on the ground. It sounds as if someone has fallen onto the ground. I strain my ears and hear someone cuss.
Is that.. Topper?
"Agh!" I hear a grunt from a voice that's very familiar, followed by something being hit repeatedly.
"Oh god." I say. I climb off the bike and let it drop to the ground, parting the bushes to get through.
Rafe stands above Pope with a golf club, who is curled up on the ground, blood pouring out of his head.
"Pope!" I shout, scrambling over to help him up. I look at Rafe, who looks dumbfounded that I'm here.
I square my jaw and eye them both with a glare that could kill thousands.
"Get the fuck out." I say, my tone deadly.
Topper begins to leave, but Rafe stays, his eyes glued onto my face. On my bruise. Topper shoves him, ripping his gaze off of me.
"Let's go, Rafe!" He calls, walking off.
Rafe takes one more fleeting look at me with an emotion that I can't read, and follows Topper out of the golf course.
I help Pope onto his feet. His breaths are strangled, and blood stains his teeth.
"Here, let's get you to the boat and cleaned up." I say, letting him lean on me while I walk the bike back to the docks.
After cleaning up his wounds, we sit in silence in the front cabin of his boat. I still can't believe what just happened. I'm stunned.
Why would Rafe do this? Knowing that Pope is my friend? Is his hate for us Pogues that great?
I hear commotion from outside the boat, and soon JJ barrels in like a fireball, ranting excitedly about earning money from groceries.
But when he sees Pope's wound under his cap, his face falls almost instantaneously.
"Jesus!" He exclaims. "What happened?"
When Pope doesn't respond, JJ turns to me. "What happened, Celeste?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Rafe and Topper jumped him down at the golf course."
He takes a moment to process, his jaw clenching.
Turning back to Pope, he asks, "What are you gonna do?"
I see the look in Pope's eyes, and grin. "Oh yeah." I say.
"2020 Malibu, 24-MXC. World's finest wakesetter." Pope explains. We're standing at the docks, looking down into the water.
I look at the sleek red exterior of Topper's boat. "Number one in just about everything." I sum up.
JJ turns to us. "This is war, guys. They hit us..."
Pope and I respond in unison. "..we hit them."
"Let's do this." I say. JJ and I put on sunglasses, while Pope takes off his shirt, diving into the water.
As I go on lookout, Pope swims to the boat and pulls out the plug. I watch gleefully as the water fills the boat and it starts sinking into the water. Sadistic? Absolutely.
Pope swims back and hands JJ the keys to the boat. With a swift movement, JJ throws it overboard. I hold in a laugh.
"Okay! Let's get outta here." JJ says, running back into the cabin. Pope whirs the engine, and we ride away from the crime scene.
We arrive home at John B's house.
"What's up guys!" JJ calls cherrily out to Kie and John B, who are relaxing on the front porch.
As he slaps John B on the back, I exchange a silent conversation with Pope.
Not a word about this.
...
The next day, I wake up to JJ and John B shouting and whooping. I sit up in my hammock and rub my weary eyes.
"What's going on?"
Kie grins. "Time to get some gold, baby. Weather has cleared up."
I laugh. "Let's do this."
I'm about to get up but I remember something with a jolt.
Shit.
My job.
I turn to the group. "Guys... I'm sorry, but I don't think that I can come with."
"Why not?" Pope asks.
"I.." I pause, embarrassed. "I have to get to my job. I deliver for the post office now."
JJ burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. "C? A job? Never!"
I shake my head. "Guys, I'm serious."
"Holy shit." JJ says. "You have a job."
John B butts in. "Guys, we have to get going. C, a job shouldn't stop you from getting 400 mil."
I shrug. "It can actually."
Everyone looks confused.
"I mean, I got this job because I... I don't want to end up like my junkie dad." I confess. "It's a step- a small one- in the right direction for me, and it's important."
John B nods. "I understand."
"Yeah." JJ agrees. His eyes linger on the bruise on my cheek, and I can see in his eyes that he relates. Both of them.
"Thanks, you guys."
"Okay, let's go!" JJ yells, pumping his fist into the air.
"Don't worry, C, we'll share a cut for you!" John B calls out to me.
"400 MIL!!! WOOHOO!" I hear JJ holler as I get on my bike and ride into the distance.
...
"Here's your order list. Make sure you get their signatures if it's a big package." The front desk lady(my boss) tells me, handing me a sheet of paper with addresses on it.
"Thanks." I say, taking it and leaving the post office.
"Let's see... first destination." I say, checking the list. "13385. Oh, it's the Heywards." I immediately recognize Pope's dad's name.
My finger trails down to the next address and my eyes widen.
"38872. Oh. It's the Camerons."