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“Helping you out with what?”
“Just stuff.”
A hurt look crosses her face. “I know you’re keeping stuff from me, but what I don’t get is why. You used to tell me stuff.”
“I still do tell you stuff,” I insist, not sure if my words are true.
Lately, I’ve turned into quite the liar. Or, at least I omit the truth fairly often. But I do this to protect my sisters. This mess with my father … They don’t need to get mixed up in it. Although, I’m probably going to have to tell them a bit of the truth since, a). Amelia and Austin go to our school, and I wouldn’t put it past them to say something to one of my sisters about what’s going on. And b). I need to make sure my sisters stay away from August and Axel. I don’t want them to know how deeply I’ve gotten into this mobster world. Well, if they are mobsters. That part has never been made clear, and Blaise seemed to find it amusing when I mentioned the word mobster.
“You know what? How about we all have dinner tonight, and I’ll update you guys on a couple of things that’s been going on?” I motion for Londyn to follow me as I walk out of the room. “We can go out. Somewhere cheap, though.” I step into the hallway, glancing at our father’s locked bedroom door.
Today, when I get home from school, I’m going to pick that lock and find out what he’s hiding in there. I also need to find a better paying job, amongst a thousand other things.
Goddammit, how am I going to handle all this?
You’re just going to have to, Hadley. Suck it the hell up.
“Okay.” The hurt in Londyn’s eyes alleviates a bit. “Where do you want to go?”
“Let me ask around and see what’s good,” I say as we start down the stairs. “Maybe I can ask Scarlett.”
Londyn’s brows dip in confusion. “Scarlett? As in, the Porterson brothers’ sister?”
“Yeah, I went to lunch with her yesterday. She’s pretty cool. Kind of like me.” I flash her a grin, and she rolls her eyes but smiles. “I think you’ll get along with her. I mean, she’s a lot like me, so …” I shrug.
“Okay, well, how about you invite her to lunch with us sometime so we can get to know her?”
“I’ll see if she’s down for it.” As I reach the bottom of the stairway, my phone vibrates from inside my pocket.
I dig it out as Londyn squeezes by me and heads into the kitchen. Once I see who the message is from, I’m glad Londyn isn’t close enough to see it.
August: Just a reminder about tonight. Don’t be late and don’t forget the package. I’ll message you when it’s time to open it. And remember, you have a lot riding on this.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
“Uh-oh, she’s already swearing,” Bailey remarks from behind me. When I turn around, she grins at me, but then frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” I shake off my irritation and stuff my phone back into my pocket. “Are you ready to go to school?”
“Nah, I’m all dressed up like this to take a nap.” She smirks as she gestures at her outfit—a pair of torn jeans, clunky boots, and a purple shirt. Her hair is done and her eyes are lined with eyeliner.
I can’t help smiling. “All right, smartass, go get some breakfast, and then we’ll leave.”
She salutes me. “Yes, boss.”
She seems in a good mood today, but she also seemed okay when she was dropped off by the social worker … whoever the hell that woman was who dropped off my sisters at the house this morning. Londyn seemed okay, too. It’s Payton I’m worried about. She seemed off, distant, very un-Payton-like.
“Where’s Payton?” I ask as Bailey walks by me.
“She’s still getting ready.” A frown tugs at her lips. “She’s still in a shitty mood, too … I’ve been trying to get her to tell me why, but she gets more pissed off the more I ask.”
“She’s probably just upset about getting hauled off by Social Services. I’m sure she’ll be back to her smiling self in a couple of days when everything gets back to normal.” Normal? As if there was ever such a thing in our lives.
Bailey must think the same thing, too, because she mutters, “What’s normal?”
I sigh as she trudges off toward the kitchen, her mood plummeting. With another sigh, I turn to go back upstairs to find Payton, but she appears at the top of the stairway and starts stomping down the stairs toward me. And when I say stomping, I mean,stompinglike an angry troll.
“What’s with the frown, Charlie Brown?” I joke, hoping she’ll at least crack a smile. Instead, she gives me the dirtiest look ever.
