"Jordan, we need to talk."
I jump. My mom should still be asleep but instead, she's brewing a cup of coffee in the kitchen. I would have walked right past her if she didn't say anything.
"I'm running late. I'll talk to you later." I slip my jacket on and grab the door handle when my mom slams her cup against the counter.
"No, Jordan. Sit down." She gestures to the table.
We stare at each other a moment. Since when does she tell me what to do? I pay the rent for this place and she popped back into my life less than a year ago. If anything, she's just a roommate.
She sighs and rubs her wrinkled forehead. When she opens her tired brown eyes again, she says, "I am your mother, Jordan."
I roll my eyes. "My mother? You weren't even—"
"Even what?" She shouts. "How long are you going to blame me for something I had no control over?"
Silence.
I don't blame her. I blame Zachary... Sort of. Zachary was always my mom's favorite. They even look like each other. I guess I have a hard time separating them.
I let out a huff and take a seat at the dining table. "What do you want to talk about?"
Her eyes light up as she moves around the counter and sits across from me.
I slide back, instinctively. I know she wasn't the one who tried to kill me but I believed that she did for ten years. She wears her hair back most days but I still remember the tangled mess that was strung down around her face. The bags under her eyes have faded and the bruises on her pasty arms have been replaced with a moderate tan.
"Let's pray first," she says, holding her hands toward me.
My eyes move from her hands to her face. "What?"
She sighs. "I wish you'd be open to receiving the Lord's grace."
"Oh," I stand, "oh my god. That's what this is about?"
She shakes her head. "Jordan. You're living a life filled with sin," she grabs my wrist with both hands, "I spoke with a pastor on Sunday. He said he would come speak with you about your lifestyle. We can move past this together."
I snap my hand from her, blinded by rage. I've never dealt with a homophobic family member before. My dad loved me for who I was. Even Zachary was more accepting than her.
"Your father would have wanted you to get help," she continues.
I take a step back, my eyes narrowed at her. "Never speak about my dad again," I snap. "You didn't know him. He would have dropped you in a heartbeat if he heard you talk to me like that." I continue toward the door, grabbing my backpack on the way. "Just because religion is the only thing that keeps you from drinking doesn't mean you need to shove it down everyone's throats." I slam the door behind me.
I'm stuck in a spiral of negativity as I make my way through the parking garage and drive to Brittany's Hotel. I'm half an hour early when I knock on her door.
She's on the phone when she answers and motions for me to come inside. Moving the phone away from her lips, she says, "make yourself at home," and walks to the bedroom.
I grab a water bottle from the mini fridge and sit on the loveseat.
"That's why I left, dumbass," Brittany snaps. "You're insane if you think that changes anything. Now, leave me alone." A heavy silence hangs in the air as she makes her way back to the living room. "Sorry about that," she rolls her eyes.
I stand. "Is everything okay?" I ask as she wraps her arms around my neck.
She nods, breathes me in. "So, are we a thing now? Am I allowed to like casually kiss you and make you go shopping with me? Because I have to buy clothes for the trip."
Right. The trip. Anxiety buzzes in my chest.
I answer her with a kiss. Gentle and slow. "You're always allowed to casually kiss me."
Her eyebrows pull together. She bites her lip. "Stop doing that," she orders.
"Doing what?" I laugh.
"Flirting with me." She flips her hair over her shoulder and pulls away from me. "I told you, I'm hard to get now." With a smile, she nods for me to follow her.
As I follow her downstairs I ask, "Where did you hear about this winter resort thing?"
"I got an email with a coupon," she answers. "Why?"
"You don't think it's a little weird that the trip starts the day after Zachary gets out of jail?"
She hands a slip of paper to the valet and looks at me. "Do you think it's connected?
I shrug. "I guess not." I think back to the morning. Did I remember to take my meds before my mom jumped down my throat?
"We can go somewhere else if you want," she offers. "If you think Zachary set this up."
I meet her eyes. She's serious. She's actually taking my concerns seriously. I shake my head. "I'm just overthinking it."
Brittany lets me drive the rental to the mall where we eat and she shops for winter clothes. I could follow her around all day, listening to her talk about what looks good with her body type. Watching her blush when I tell her that everything looks good on her.
I'm standing outside the dressing room when her phone dings. I check the message without thinking about it.
You know I'll find you.
I slide the phone back into her purse. The message was from a restricted number. I wonder if it's the same person from earlier. The one Brittany yelled at on the phone. I wish she'd tell me what's going on. I'm sure she doesn't want to add anything to my plate but I can't stop thinking about it. I want to be there for her but maybe we're not there yet. Maybe she doesn't trust me like that.
I turn in time to catch someone peaking around the corner. The woman ducks out of view when she sees me turn. I take a step to follow her when Brittany's door swings open. She asks me a question but I don't answer. Instead, I hand her the purse and jog after the woman.
I turn the corner to find the woman from the other day speed walking out of the store. The one with the chubby face and glasses.
"Hey," I say, chasing after her.
She speeds up, obviously avoiding me.
I grab her shoulder. "Why are you following me?"
She's breathing heavy, her eyes narrowed at me. "You're a monster," she snarls and rips her shoulder from my grip.
"Do I know you?" I ask.
"I'm your brother's girlfriend," she snaps, pushing her glasses up on her nose.
"My brother's what?"
"Yeah." She nods, licks the lipstick from her teeth and with shaky hands brushes her hair behind her ears. "I know you haven't spoken to him since they put him away. I know all about how you pushed him out of your life after his relapse."
I stare at her. I don't know what to say. Is this a joke?
"You know he tried to murder her, right?" Brittany's voice comes from behind me.
"Famous Brittany." The woman grins. "Alive only by the Grace of Zachary."
I shake my head. "You're mental. You don't know the first thing about my brother. Do yourself a favor and stay away from him."
She steps closer, like she's ready to fight. "I would never abandon him like you did. His tribe would never leave his side."
We stare at each other a moment before Brittany moves between us and nudges me back toward the store. "If I see you around either of us again, I'll call the police," she tells the woman before we walk away.
Brittany buys the winter coat that she had been looking at, long and black, and we drive back to her hotel room discussing the recent discovery of Zachary's 'tribe'.
"So, he's leading a cult now?" I rest my head in my hands, while Brittany pours us drinks.
"I think there needs to be a minimum of five people involved for it to be considered a cult." Brittany sits next to me and hands me a glass. "One crazy bitch who claims to be his girlfriend does not count as an entire cult following."
I'm about to respond when her phone rings. She rolls her eyes, sets her glass on the coffee table, and answers it, moving to the other room as she talks. The conversation is just as heated as before.
I decide to run a google search on Zachary's name to see if I can pull any information about this 'tribe' that his 'girlfriend' mentioned but when I pat my pockets for my phone, I realize I must have left it in the rental.
Brittany's purse is on the kitchen counter and as I dig through it for her keys, I come across a small cardboard box. My eyebrows pull together as I twist the box over and reveal a pregnancy test. My heart is stuck in my throat. I'm frozen as Brittany comes back, her eyes flicking from the box to me.
"Brittany." I try to force words out but I can't think with my heart hammering in my chest at one million miles an hour.
***
Would anyone prefer if I didn't upload two different books at the same time? As in, would anyone prefer if I simply uploaded to this one or Red Zoned three times a week instead of uploadnig to both?
I typically don't read two different books at once so I'm curious if anyone would be happier with me just finishing Loser II or Red Zoned and then moving on to the other one.
Or do you guys like this method better?
Let me know what you guys like better so I can make adjustments!
As always, thanks so much for reading and please remember to leave a vote if you enjoyed this chapter (:
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