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11
Kit
A Twist
Later that afternoon as I sit at my desk, I stare at the computer screen with my head in my hands and glazed over eyes. I’m alternating between dying from boredom and wanting a nap, to running on adrenaline and knowing I’ll probably never sleep again when I think of Bobby asking me out.
Sprinkle some ‘asshole-Jack’ on top, and I’m a veritable mess of emotions.
I’m going out on a date. Tomorrow night. With Bobby Kincaid!
What the hell universe is this?
I want to laugh. I want to cry. I’ll probably just dance in the bathroom to release my newest adrenaline surge.
My mind runs a million miles a minute, but my ass stays put at my desk like the boring corporate drone that I am. I’m in the middle of end of financial year prep, and I have to work on the new departmental budgets, but despite my to-do pile standing taller than certain sexy fighters I’ve met recently, regardless of my good intentions, I’ve gotten next to nothing done today.
I can’t stop replaying everything Bobby; him asking me out, his large hand forcing my gaze to his last night, his silent and broody self moving around my training session. He let me work my frustrations out, and all he did was walk around and clean up my chaos as I moved onto the next casualty.
I can’t stop thinking about our upcoming date; what to wear, where we’re going, what might happen, whether I’ll fit into that dress I’m remembering in the back of my closet. Then every time I find myself grinning like a fool, I catch a glimpse of my phone, and the worry of getting another call to collect Jack invades my mind and ruins it for me.
I thought Jack and I were finally on the same page. I thought we were onto something good – his recent behavior has been perfect, his attitude a pleasant change. He’d been working so hard on his math tutoring, and test results at school prove we’re making progress.
He was so appreciative of being allowed to train, that I never thought he’d risk it.
And now we’re back to this.
Principal Reeves left a message for me to come in on Monday to discuss what happened, but until then, I only know what Jack’s told me; which is nothing.
Add on top that just minutes after getting that call about Jack, my phone dinged with an email from Dad’s estate lawyers. For a guy who had no money, it’s a damn mess trying to straighten it all out, and every single email or phone call they make costs me a fortune.
He had no insurance. No assets. No money.
Just one dependent minor child.
My aunts are contesting everything – primarily, Jack – and every time I think I’m making progress in closing that stage of my life so he and I can move on with our lives, they step in and mess it up.
I don’t know why.
I don’t know their end game. There’s nothing for them to gain except a surly teenager who eats nonstop and needs new clothes and shoes constantly.
He’s an asshole, but I won’t stop fighting to keep him.
I’d give it a few weeks before he got in trouble. He’d follow their lead into drugs and drinking and all that bullshit, and not only wouldn’t they stop him, but they’d hand him everything he needed. That’s just who they are. They have zero aspirations for a better life and no interest in being contributing members of society.
Ex-cons, thieves, assault, break and enter – they’re awesome. Add in that one cousin serving time for murder, and I sign another check to my lawyers to keep Jack in my home.
I know where he belongs, and I know who Dad wanted him to be with.
So I fight on.
I check the clock for the hundredth time today, and finally five o’clock rolls around.
Longest eight hours of my life.
Normally I’d be giddy about seeing Bobby, but mostly I’m excited to go home, step into my fat girl pants, and wolf down half a pizza. I’ll swing by, collect Jack, and hope he hasn’t dug my hole any deeper today, then I’m crawling into a twelve-hour hibernation
Collecting my things and packing away what I don’t take home, I check my phone – no missed calls. No news is good news. Picking up my purse and swinging it over my shoulder, I walk out the door with my keys in hand.
