Page 49 of Saints & Sailors

I stormed into my room, the only place I had to my name.

“Ugh, I’m not putting up with this shit!” Scott groaned before taking off toward his own bedroom.

Simultaneously, or perhaps ironically, we slammed our doors as hard as we could.

Scott was different than my mother.

Where my mother would’ve let me off the hook after a night, Scott kept with it.

Whenever I messed up back home, my mother would be pissed, sure, but it never lingered or lasted long. Scott’s anger hung in the air for what felt like minutes that turned to hours that turned to days. Instinctively, I knew not to test his patience on the status of being “grounded.”

Did I question if he were actually my father? Absolutely not. I didn’t need a DNA test when it was clear where I got my anger and temper from. On the surface, Scott Stanley was friendly and happy-go-lucky, but when pushed, he proved he could and would go there if need be. Hell, he’d probably kick René’s ass if it came down to it.

I went on a hunger strike, refusing to leave my room. Scott didn’t pay this any mind when he was home. He went about his day, enjoying his meals alone, and kicking back with a beer as he watched whatever sports he liked on TV. He didn’t even check in on me. It was like he knew I was home and not out against his wishes.

That was my weekend, consumed in the aftermath of Scott’s wrath. Monday I was prepared to skip school, but Scott wasn’t having that.

Four hard raps to my door woke me up Monday morning at exactly 6:30.

“I’m on my way out.” Scott’s voice told me on the other side of my door. “From now on, I arranged for Dreux to take you to and from school.”

That got me up.

I shot out of bed and marched clear across my room and practically ripped my door open. Scott was waiting for me on the other side expectantly.

“What the hell did you just say?” I demanded.

Scott rolled his eyes. “You heard me, and another thing, watch your language. I’ve about had it with your filthy mouth.”

“I don’t need a fuckin’ babysitter, Scott. Especially not the golden child.”

I was really pressing Scott’s nerve now. “Dreux lives next door, and I trust him to bring you to and from school.”

“And you don’t trust Larry?”

“Again, Dreux lives next door.”

Deep down, I knew there was more to it than what he was saying. He was probably going to have Dreux St. Angel keep an eye on me at school too.

Hell no.

“Dreux’s a creep,” I said.

“No, he is not.”

“I’ve seen him watching foot fetish movies in his room.”

Scott’s face deadpanned, calling me on my bullshit. “Saylor Leigh.”

Oh no, not the dreaded middle name. Gag me.

I folded my arms and stood my ground. “No.”

Before me, Scott’s nostrils flared. “I’m not having a negotiation with you. I’m telling you how it’s going to be from now on. And another thing, you will be working at Angela’s salon every now and then when needed, too.”

“Excuse me?” Oh, he was actually insane.

Scott turned on his heel. “You heard me. I’ll see you at three.”