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Sure, Parker gets some money, but it’s not a regular paycheck like mine. He paints, so some months he’ll sell a lot while he doesn’t have a dollar to his name during others.
So, it’s on my shoulders to not only pay for myself but also most of Parker, who is finally in school learning to do something he loves.
And it shouldn’t have been like this. We should be taken care of, yet we got nothing.
He backs off, seeing he’s overstepped the line, and we sit awkwardly for a few minutes, not saying anything at all.
“What are you going to do today? Go to class?” I ask Parker when I finish off my breakfast, pushing the empty plate away.
“No class today, will get some other stuff done,” he responds cheerfully, but I can tell it’s fake. I know him too well. I know when he’s hurting, and since we’re both going through the same stuff right now, I know exactly how he feels.
Cheated.
Wronged.
Angry.
I give a brief nod and get up to start getting ready. No one will give me shit for being late, but I’m still not thrilled about it. I get paid by the hour as a programmer so being late means less money on my paycheck.
“I’ll see you this evening,” I say twenty minutes later after I’m showered and ready to head to work.
He’s sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, watching some sitcom. He just nods.
And because I’m the big brother—if only by a minute—I give him some money to order takeout in case I’m home late again. We part on good terms, and even though I’m already regretting shelling out for pad thai, a smile remains on my face. We need a little treat now and then. Otherwise, we’ll both go fucking crazy.
But still, as I take the stairs to the first floor, I want a better life for us. We aren’t used to this, and we’re struggling. No matter what it takes, I’m going to pull us out of this mess.
I want justice.My day passes as the days always do—at the office. My job is not something I love, but at least I’m good at it, and it makes some money. Not nearly enough, though.
Lately, I’ve been too lost in the dark parts of my mind. My brother manages to keep me upbeat most of the time, though I suspect sometimes he feels just as lost as I am right now.
The dark voice in my head is only growing louder and meaner as time goes on, reminding me that I’ll never fix our lives. Things will never go back to the way they used to be. It’s fucking over, and it’s all June’s fault.
I close my jacket and cross my arms in front of me to stop the cold from getting in. My breath comes out in puffs of smoke, and I’m stewing with anger and resentment. My lingering hangover has not subsided all day, worsening my mood. Now I’m on my way home, and I’m fucking dreading it. Another night when I’ll have to make a crappy excuse to leave Parker and go out drinking with my friends, possibly find another girl to add to my little black book. But nothing’s ever enough. Nothing fills the black, June-shaped hole in my heart.
I’m only a block away from home when I hear the engine of a car slowing down behind me. It is followed by angry honks and shouts, and I turn around to see what the commotion is about.
There’s a black limo behind me, the lacquer on it shiny and spotless. And the driver is rushing out now, opening the door. A second later, two impossibly long and slim legs poke out, and a girl exits the vehicle.
She's dark, tall, and willowy. She looks like an Upper East Side princess who’s lost in this part of the city. Her hair falls in perfect glossy ringlets, and her eyes burn bright behind thick layers of mascara on her long lashes.
And then she stumbles in her too-high heels and almost falls under the wheels of a car.
Thankfully, I catch her before that happens.
June Wildfox feels light in my arms, like a feather. The desire to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to my bed where she belongs is strong, but I fight it with everything I have in me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I murmur as I place her back on her feet, and more angry honking ensues. “You need to stop following me.”
June manages to stand straight, giving me a nervous smile. She waves at her driver, and he manages a short nod before getting in the car and driving away, slowly dissipating the traffic jam they’ve both caused.
“I really don’t have time for this,” I say roughly to the dark-haired socialite, making my way off the road and onto the sidewalk. I tuck my hands in the pockets of my peacoat and start walking away with purpose.
