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January 3, 2024

All Rights Reserved © Jordan Silver

 

Don’t steal my shit you fuq

“Kill it!”
“What? You can’t kill my dog.”
“Your dog scared the shit out of my little sister. Kill it.” I ordered my men once again and waited.
“No, wait, the dog was just being a dog.”
“You know what, you’re right; maybe I should take it out on you, the owner, instead.” I turned my gaze on him instead.

“Look, you can’t blame me, maybe that retard….” Pop.

“What the hell? My leg. You shot me in the leg.”
“Use that disgusting word to describe my sister again, and the next one goes in your head, right between the fucking eyes. Let’s go, boys, grab the dog.”

“You can’t take my dog.”
“Shut up. And stop bleeding all over my damn sidewalk.” The mutt was kicking up a fuss when my boys went after it, and these fucks were scared out of their minds. I was in the mood for this shit today, though.

“Hey, you, shut up.” I crouched to look the mutt in the eye, and he stretched out his front legs and looked at me out the side of his eye. Now even the four-legged animals are giving me shit.

“I don’t speak dog; what the hell does that mean, Tony?”
“I don’t know, boss.” I took the leash and ignored his past owner, who was bitching up a storm as I walked back to my house.

“Wait, we can’t take him in there with her, she’d freak. Aren’t these things supposed to come with some kinda papers or some shit?”

“I have no idea, boss; what about you, Carlos?”
“I think you gotta take him to the vet for that stuff.”
“Where’s the vet? Let’s head there first.” I looked back at the house where my baby sister waited with the sitter, then down at the mutt. “Let’s go.”

If I go back inside, I’ll end up losing time looking at the babysitter’s ass, and knowing her, she’d probably bring me up on charges. Half Italian half black, who the fuck came up with that idea? They ought to have warned all the men in this town what was to come. Fucking gorgeous and a pain in the ass. With a mouth that won’t quit and crazy-ass Italian brothers and uncles.

“Isn’t she going to be terrified if you bring that thing into the house?” Tony was still looking at the dog from a distance, and the mutt was looking around like what the fuck is happening?
“My sister isn’t supposed to be scared of shit in this fucked up world.” I put the mutt in the backseat next to me while my boys climbed in the front. Carlos looked for a vet while Tony drove, the two of them nagging each other as usual.

Every day it’s a running competition between these two to see which one can get on my damn nerves the fastest. “You two on your period or some fuck? Get some fucking Motrin, the fuck.” That shut them up for about two seconds. Meanwhile, the mutt had his head out the car window like he owned my shit.

What happened to Cujo? This dog has been the bane of the community ever since my neighbor, two doors down, brought him home about three months ago. Bark all fucking day and night and won’t let anyone go past the house without acting the damn fool. And what does that asshole do? He laughs his fucking head off and threatens anyone who speaks up.

I have no problem with him and his dog since I don’t walk anywhere these days, but my little five-year-old sister is staying with me for a while, while my mom and stepdad run around the world like they think they’re in their twenties or some shit. My Natalia is autistic with Down syndrome since mom had her very late in life, or so the doctors say, and she owns my fucking heart.

When she came home with the sitter bawling and shaking in fear, I didn’t stop to think once I got an explanation out of the woman who came close to losing her life when I thought she was the one responsible. I just grabbed my piece and walked out the door after calming down my Natalia and promising her ice cream for dinner.

Tony might have a point, she might be afraid if I take the mutt home, but I’d rather teach her not to be afraid than let that fear stand because, like I said, she’s not going to be afraid of one fuck. Not as long as I’m breathing air.

***

“This is a Czechoslovakian Wolf Dog; it’s pretty much illegal in this state.”
“Whose state?” I gave the vet a look that not many can misread. There were about ten pissed-off people in the waiting room who were here ahead of me, but I have shit to do, so they’ll have to wait.

“You plan to have this animal around your little sister, you said? He’s gonna need some training.” His tone was more amiable because I’m sure he’d seen the kill light in my eyes. Before I knew it, his assistant was getting me information on what he claimed to be the best training service in town. Like, I’d trust his ass.

“Thanks; if Mickey gets reported to the cops or animal control, I know where your business is. It wouldn’t take me that long to find your home.” I made sure to look at the family picture he had on his desk when I said it and watched him swallow.

“Who’s Mickey?”
“That’s what I thought.” He hurried his shit along because he wanted me gone, and I didn’t want to be around here any damn way. I didn’t have vet on my calendar today because I don’t own animals. I’d much rather be home annoying the babysitter, but it is what it is.

Look, I’m not a nice man, never claimed to be. But it’s not my fault, and I’d shoot anyone who claims it is. I was going through life minding my own before life decided to fuck with me, and I said game on motherfucker.

It all started during my last year in my master’s program. My dad fucked the babysitter, not mine, and fucked my family over royally. She was eighteen and dumb, but whatever. She knew what the fuck she was doing.

Mom checked out emotionally but insisted I stay in school. My maternal grandparents, who I’d never met because they warned mom not to marry the piece of shit, turned up out of nowhere after the divorce and took over. All was forgiven now that the piece of shit was no longer a part of our lives.

My parents had money; we were solidly upper middle class because both mom and dad kicked ass at their corporate jobs, but my grandparents made their wealth look like play money. These motherfuckers.

Before I knew it, there were trusts set up for me and Sis, who was barely a year old when this all went down. I don’t know who he called, but after Grandpa did his thing, Dad barely made it out alive after the divorce.

He still had his cushy job, but he lost the house, the boat, the cars, half his shit, and still had to pay alimony and child support. Once I got the full story of what went down, I bided my time. I finished my master’s in finance and got a job on my own even though Gramps wanted to step up on account of all the things he didn’t get to do for me when I was young.

Now, I have an uncle, or used to. This fuck, with all that money, he couldn’t help getting his hands dirty. He said it was the rush for him. I think he watched the Godfather one too many times, and it warped his fucking head.

Anyway, come to find out, he knew he was dying, so what did he do? With no wife or kids, he decides to leave everything to me, including these two assholes that are still on my ass. Crime pays. I was pulling in six figures at my job; my uncle pulled that shit in a week. What…the…fuck!

Now, how I got the name The Don, that’s what they used to call him and since I inherited everything, I got the name too. My uncle was a slick fucker. He used his family’s wealth to start an illegal business, then used the proceeds to go legit. It’s confusing as hell, but let’s just say I own two casinos and a couple of hotels, along with some other shit that he dropped in my lap.

Now, back to why I’m not a good man. I don’t kill people, and I’m not into the illegal bullshit. Up until my father ass fucked my family and sent my mother into a clinical depression that lasted for a whole year, I was your average rich jock.

I had the looks, the cars, the money, the everything. But something happened to me after Mom got hurt. To make it worse, when I confronted the asshole sperm thrower, he called my sister a thing. Okay, I didn’t argue, but I knew from then on that I would make it my mission in life to fuck his shit up.

I went back to my campus because that’s what Mom wanted. My grandparents were helping out with my sister, and she had all the around-the-clock care she needed. I kept my head down and got my degree for my mom, but by then, I was not the same person.

When I wasn’t studying, I was thinking about all the ways I could make mom’s ex-husband pay. I refuse to call him my father. The only thing that gave me any pleasure was the thought of making him suffer the way she did.

We didn’t lose anything material, but my mom damn near lost his mind. And when he married the bitch a year later, she almost checked out for real. Her high school sweetheart had proved her parents right after all, and she’d wasted the better part of twenty-five years on his ass. Somebody had to pay.

By now, the babysitter was about twenty, I think. I made nice with Dad. That fuck thought I had forgiven him. The homewrecking bitch loved talking shit about my mom when she was drunk and high, like she forgot who I was, but I let her. Couldn’t let her see my real motives.

Long story short, I paid some guys to run a train on his adulterous bitch and sent him the video. I would’ve done it myself, but the thought of my father’s sloppy seconds made me sick to my stomach.

It wrecked him, and since I made sure all his work colleagues and the people he played golf with got a copy, he was pretty much fucked. Fuck off about revenge porn; you fuck with my mother; I fuck you over until the grave. I’m still sending him postcards of the still shots for the holidays and his birthday.

This mentality is what made it easy for me to take up the reins from my uncle. Sitting behind my desk, staring at a computer screen all day, watching numbers wasn’t giving me the rush I thought it would. Besides, I like making money for myself more than I like growing other people’s shit.

Now, if only Brie, the woman I’d hired to watch my sister, would play nice, my life would be perfect. Her Italian ass seems to think that I’m a thug, ain’t that some funny shit. Like I don’t know what her dad and brothers are doing out of that body shop they run. Cars, my ass!

 

When I had just turned sixteen, my parents divorced. I’m not sure what happened as I was too busy living my best life as my daddy’s little princess and the apple of my mother’s eye. Too caught up in my own world of social engagements with my little clique whose biggest worry was what shade of eye shadow to wear from Sephora’s so that we didn’t look like nineteen-seventies rejects. Have you seen the blue monstrosity those people used to wear?

Anywho, nothing seemed amiss on the home front, not that I would’ve noticed since I wouldn’t know what to look for. I had my phone, my tablet, my own credit card, thanks to Daddy, and all the glitz and glamor my little teenage heart could desire.

Mom and Dad were both hard workers. Dad worked for the family business that he’d taken over from my grandpa when he graduated college, and Mom was a venture capitalist, whatever that means. They’d met in college and had been inseparable ever since.

Everyone said how in love they were, and among their friends, they were known as the ‘it’ couple, so it only made sense for them to get married right after graduation and head into their respective careers, full of vigor and excitement for the future.

I came along some two years later, a little earlier than they had planned, but since they were the only children on either side and I was the first grandbaby, there was plenty of help to go around. My nanas loved me, and my grandpas adored the very air I breathed.

I grew up like a princess in a castle, complete with a full staff who was there to do my every bidding and two parents who, though very busy, still found time to coddle me and give me all the love and support one could ever need.

I know the world thinks that the wealthy are soulless vultures, and for some, that might be true, but it wasn’t that way in my family. We were a close-knit bunch, and there was no shortage of love and comfort to be had for yours truly.

I knew I was spoilt at about the age of ten when all of my friends got new iPhones for their birthdays that year while my gift was a trip around Europe, plus the iPhone, because, well, a flight on daddy’s private plane to stay at our family’s villas around the continent wasn’t exactly anything special since we did that every summer anyway.

I wasn’t one to scream and throw tantrums when I didn’t get my way because that never happened. If one said no, which I don’t think I ever heard, there were five other adults more than willing and ready to say yes. And that’s not counting the great-aunts and uncles and other relatives on both my grandparents’ sides.

In short, I grew up with rose-tinted glasses that were rudely and abruptly dragged off my face when I came home one day, and my parents asked me to choose who I wanted to live with. I remember my chest feeling tight and the tears that gathered in my eyes that day.

A feeling of dread and fear crept up my spine because, as green as I was, I had friends who’d gone through this and knew the signs, I guess. I just never expected it to happen to me, to my family. I threw my first tantrum that day, screaming as if my life was ending, begging and pleading, but to no avail.

The marriage was broken, and there was no turning back. Neither of them admitted to the reasons behind the divorce, no matter how much I asked, but the two people sitting before me were like two strangers that day; I had never seen them before.

There was a coldness in the room, I remember, a dullness in the pit of my stomach that ran throughout my body and into my very soul. I’m not sure what happened exactly, but apparently, I passed out from the shock and had to be rushed to the hospital.

I remember waking up to their worried faces and my Mom crying while my Dad looked beaten and defeated. My four grandparents rushed back from the safari trip they were taking together to be by my side. The rest of that week was a blur, and so were the months that followed.

Mom and I stayed in the family home, and Dad moved away. Somehow, I got it into my head that he was at fault because of this and refused to even look at him, let alone speak to him. I hated him with a burning passion and just knew that I would until my dying day.

Things only got worse between us when I saw my Mom suffer. The nights I heard her cry herself to sleep were heartbreaking. I watched the strong, self-assured woman I knew and loved turn into a shell of herself right before my very eyes.

I grew up fast back then; like a shooting star, I went from one reality to another. Something monumental in me changed back then, and I was never the same again. My feelings, the things I found pleasure in, nothing was ever the same. It was then I lost my innocence. Then I realized that I was nothing special and that the world could deliver a punishing blow to anyone, no matter their social bracket.

I stopped caring about the things I used to; my only focus was on my Mom and getting her better any way I could. My grandparents came over often, sometimes for days on end, since Mom would hardly get out of bed, and they didn’t want the staff to raise me. Plus, I was out of it myself for quite some time.

In fact, I even heard whispers when they thought I was in bed and out of earshot about getting me some therapy, which it was decided was a good idea between all and sundry. All this while, I never said a word to my Dad; he was dead to me. On the rare occasions I messed up and answered the phone without looking, and his voice came over the line, I would simply hang up immediately and then suffer that same excruciating pain I’d felt in the beginning all over again.

I kept telling myself that I had to be strong for Mom, but I couldn’t find the strength, not even for myself. Things went on that way for a long time. Then, one day, it was as if the sun came out again, not as bright as it once was, but it was there, nonetheless.

Danny, my next-door neighbor and the dreamiest boy in my private school, stopped me in the hallway that day to ask me how I was doing. I was stumped at first because I wasn’t aware that anyone knew about my family drama. “I, I’m fine, and you?” If he noticed the confusion on my face and in my voice, he didn’t let on.

You’ve got to understand Danny was not only the school’s heartthrob but the only son of my mother’s best friend. We pretty much grew up next to each other, but because he was almost three years older, our friendship had fizzled out when I was about seven or eight years old, so it was rare, if ever, for him to acknowledge my presence at school. In fact, it had been some time since I’d seen him at home either since he moved with an older crowd.

“I’m getting there.” There was something in his voice, a bite of anger that I couldn’t quite understand, and it was then it hit me that I hadn’t seen my Mom’s friend around for quite some time. “Hey, how’s your Mom? I haven’t seen her.” “Are you shitting me?” Danny’s sky-blue eyes shot daggers at me, and I took a step back from the venom in his tone.

“What?” He glared at me for a second until his expression changed into something softer. I was trying hard not to make an ass of myself since, by now, other students had noticed the two of us standing there in the middle of the hallway between classes having a private conversation. And though his tone was less than friendly, I still felt that silly little girl tingle in my tummy that I always got when I saw him across campus grounds.

“You don’t know; they didn’t tell you. You’ve always been such a brave little thing. It never occurred to me that you might be too young to know.” “Know what?” Something about his words was giving me a bad feeling in my gut. And when he touched my shoulder commiserative-ly, I almost lost my breath.

“Sorry, kid, it’s not for me to say. I’ll catch you later.” I walked away after watching him leave, trying to piece together the nonsensical conversation. I couldn’t even enjoy the fifteen minutes of fame I received from my friends once we caught up, and they wanted to know what the dreamy Danny had said to me.

Danny, as I said, was the dreamboat of all the girls sixteen and under at the school, but alas, he liked older women, as the story goes. His girlfriend had been the head cheerleader and had gone off to college two years earlier. At over six feet tall by the age of fifteen, it was hard to tell that he was that young when they started dating, so I guess that’s how the two of them got away with it.

I soon forgot all about our conversation as the day wore on and even about not seeing his Mom for the past few months since the split. I sat in the back of the chauffeur-driven SUV on the way home, lost in thought as I wondered what condition Mom was going to be in when I got home.

She’d been working from home for months now and was always there in the evening with the lost, lifeless eyes that I had come to know. She’s been trying these last few weeks to act like everything was okay, but I knew it wasn’t. Something was broken in her as well, and I was afraid that one wrong move and she’d crumble like ash.

One or the other of my grandparents was always at the house in the evenings when I got home, and this day was no different. There was a strange car in the driveway, one that I’d never seen before, and when I walked inside, the butler asked me to go through to the study where Mom was waiting for me.

I barely spared a glance at the stranger who sat there with Mom and my two nanas. They all turned to smile at me, and Mom invited me in. I took a seat next to her on the settee and looked around at the others wordlessly. “Mom?” She smiled, that wan empty smile that she’d been wearing here of late, and introduced me to the family lawyer.

There was a lot of mumbo jumbo, but all I heard were the words divorce and custody. My body decided to try to learn magic tricks all at once. I wanted to pee, cry, and scream all at once, but I’m not sure the body was made to do all three at the same time. I listened in numb silence as the stranger explained that the divorce was final and my Dad would have me on the weekends.

So, it was really over; Dad was not coming back home. If I thought I’d lost my innocence a few months earlier, nothing compared to what I felt that day. It wasn’t just my youth that was gone; my whole life was over. “I won’t see him.” Even I was shocked at my tone as I stood up and walked from the room and headed up the stairs to lock myself away in my room.

I wanted to throw things, burn them even, but I didn’t have the strength. I climbed into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and fell asleep with tears streaming down my face, slipping into the darkness that waited for me there.

It was sometime later that I sat up straight in bed, my heart racing and a sickening taste in my mouth. What did Danny mean? Who hadn’t told me what? And where was Sandra? His Mom? My knees trembled as I got up from the bed, and my mind started trying to form the thoughts that teased there. No, it can’t be.

I ran down the stairs to find Mom to ask her if what I suspected was true, but on my way to the family room, I heard voices speaking almost in hushed tones, and my instinct told me to be quiet as I made my approach. “She’ll be crushed. Sandra is her godmother, after all, and she’s always liked her. It will break her heart to know that her Dad had an affair, let alone with that woman.”

I’m not sure when I picked up this nasty habit, but the next thing I knew, it was lights out, and I was hitting the floor with a thud.

When I had just turned sixteen, my parents divorced. I’m not sure what happened as I was too busy living my best life as my daddy’s little princess and the apple of my mother’s eye. Too caught up in my own world of social engagements with my little clique whose biggest worry was what shade of eye shadow to wear from Sephora’s so that we didn’t look like nineteen-seventies rejects. Have you seen the blue monstrosity those people used to wear?

Anywho, nothing seemed amiss on the home front, not that I would’ve noticed since I wouldn’t know what to look for. I had my phone, my tablet, my own credit card, thanks to Daddy, and all the glitz and glamor my little teenage heart could desire.

Mom and Dad were both hard workers; Dad worked for the family business that he’d taken over from my grandpa when he graduated college, and Mom was a venture capitalist, whatever that means. They’d met in college and had been inseparable ever since.

Everyone said how in love they were, and among their friends, they were known as the ‘it’ couple, so it only made sense for them to get married right after graduation and head into their respective careers, full of vigor and excitement for the future.

I came along some two years later, a little earlier than they had planned, but since they were the only children on either side and I was the first grandbaby, there was plenty of help to go around. My nanas loved me, and my grandpas adored the very air I breathed.

I grew up like a princess in a castle, complete with a full staff who was there to do my every bidding and two parents who, though very busy, still found time to coddle me and give me all the love and support one could ever need.

I know the world thinks that the wealthy are soulless vultures, and for some, that might be true, but it wasn’t that way in my family; we were a close-knit bunch, and there was no shortage of love and comfort to be had for yours truly.

I knew I was spoilt at about the age of ten when all of my friends got new iPhones for their birthdays that year while my gift was a trip around Europe, plus the iPhone, because, well, a flight on daddy’s private plane to stay at our family’s villa around the continent wasn’t exactly anything special since we did that every summer anyway.

I wasn’t one to scream and throw tantrums when I didn’t get my way because that never happened. If one said no, which I don’t think I ever heard, there were five other adults more than willing and ready to say yes. And that’s not counting the great-aunts and uncles and other relatives on both my grandparents’ sides.

In short, I grew up with rose-tinted glasses that were rudely and abruptly dragged off my face when I came home one day, and the parents asked me to choose who I wanted to live with. I remember my chest feeling tight and the tears that gathered in my eyes that day.

The feeling of dread and fear that crept up my spine because, as green as I was, I had friends who’d gone through this and knew the signs, I guess. I just never expected it to happen to me, to my family. I threw my first tantrum that day, screaming as if my life was ending, begging and pleading, but to no avail.

The marriage was broken, and there was no turning back. Neither of them admitted to the reasons behind the divorce, no matter how much I asked, but the two people sitting before me were like two strangers that day; I had never seen them before.

There was coldness in the room, I remember, a dullness in the pit of my stomach that ran throughout my body and into my very soul. I’m not sure what happened exactly, but apparently, I passed out from the shock and had to be rushed to the hospital.

I remember waking up to their worried faces and my Mom crying while my Dad looked beaten and defeated. My grandparents rushed back from their safari trip they were taking together to be by my side. The rest of that week was a blur, and so were the months that followed.

Mom and I stayed in the family home, and Dad moved away. Somehow, I got it into my head that he was at fault because of this and refused to even look at him, let alone speak to him. I hated him with a burning passion and just knew that I would until my dying day.

Things only got worse between us when I saw my Mom suffer. The nights I heard her cry herself to sleep were heartbreaking. I watched the strong, self-assured woman I knew and loved turn into a shell of herself right before my very eyes.

I grew up fast back then; like a shooting star, I went from one reality to another. Something monumental in me changed back then, and I was never the same again. My feelings, the things I found pleasure in, nothing was ever the same. It was then I lost my innocence. Then I realized that I was nothing special and that the world could deliver a punishing blow to anyone, no matter their social bracket.

I stopped caring about the things I used to; my only focus was on my Mom and getting her better any way I could. My grandparents came over often, sometimes for days on end, since Mom would hardly get out of bed, and they didn’t want the staff to raise me. Plus, I was out of it myself for quite some time.

In fact, I even heard whispers when they thought I was in bed and out of earshot about getting me some therapy, which it was decided was a good idea between all and sundry. All this while, I never said a word to my Dad; he was dead to me. On the rare occasions, I messed up and answered the phone without looking, and his voice came over the line, I would hang up immediately and then suffer that same excruciating pain I’d felt in the beginning all over again.

I kept telling myself that I had to be strong for Mom, but I couldn’t find the strength, not even for myself. Things went on that way for a long time. Then, one day, it was as if the sun came out again, not as bright as it once was, but it was there, nonetheless.

Danny, my next-door neighbor and the dreamiest boy in my private school, stopped me in the hallway that day to ask me how I was doing. I was stumped at first because I wasn’t aware that anyone knew about my family drama. “I, I’m fine, and you?” If he noticed the confusion on my face and in my voice, he didn’t let on.

You’ve got to understand Danny, was not only the school’s heartthrob, but the only son of my mother’s best friend. We pretty much grew up next to each other, but because he was almost two years older, our friendship had fizzled out when I was about seven or eight years old, so it was rare, if ever, for him to acknowledge my presence at school. In fact, it had been some time since I’d seen him at home either since he moved with an older crowd.

“I’m getting there.” There was something in his voice, a bite of anger that I couldn’t quite understand, and it was then it hit me that I hadn’t seen my Mom’s friend around for quite some time. “Hey, how’s your Mom? I haven’t seen her.”
“Are you shitting me?” Danny’s sky-blue eyes shot daggers at me, and I took a step back from the venom in his tone.

“What?” He glared at me for a second until his expression changed into something softer. I was trying hard not to make an ass of myself since, by now, other students had noticed the two of us standing there in the middle of the hallway between classes having a private conversation. And though his tone was less than friendly, I still felt that silly little girl tingle in my tummy that I always got when I saw him across campus grounds.

“You don’t know, they didn’t tell you. You’ve always been such a brave little thing. It never occurred to me that you might be too young to know.”
“Know what?” Something about his words was giving me a bad feeling in my gut. And when he touched my shoulder commiseratively, I almost lost my breath.

“Sorry, kid, it’s not for me to say. I’ll catch you later.” I walked away after watching him leave, trying to piece together the nonsensical conversation. I couldn’t even enjoy the fifteen minutes of fame I received from my friends once we caught up, and they wanted to know what the dreamy Danny had said to me.

Danny, like I said, was the dreamboat of all the girls sixteen and under at the school, but alas, he liked older women, as the story goes. His girlfriend had been the head cheerleader and had gone off to college two years earlier. At over six feet tall by the age of fifteen, it was hard to tell that he was that young when they started dating, so I guess that’s how the two of them got away with it.

I soon forgot all about our conversation as the day wore on and even about not seeing his Mom for the past few months since the split. I sat in the back of the chauffeur-driven SUV on the way home, lost in thought as I wondered what condition Mom was going to be in when I got home.

She’d been working from home for months now and was always there in the evening with the lost, lifeless eyes that I had come to know. She’s been trying these last few weeks to act like everything was okay, but I knew it wasn’t. Something was broken in her as well, and I was afraid that one wrong move and she’d crumble like ash.

One or the other of my grandparents were always at the house in the evenings when I got home, and this day was no different. There was a strange car in the driveway, one that I’d never seen before, and when I walked inside, the butler asked me to go through to the study where Mom was waiting for me.

I barely spared a glance at the stranger who sat there with Mom and my two nanas. They all turned to smile at me, and Mom invited me in. I took a seat next to her on the settee and looked around at the others wordlessly. “Mom?” She smiled, that wan empty smile that she’d been wearing here of late, and introduced me to the family lawyer.

There was a lot of mumbo jumbo, but all I heard were the words divorce and custody. My body decided to try to learn magic tricks all at once. I wanted to pee, cry, and scream all at once, but I’m not sure the body was made to do all three at the same time. I listened in numb silence as the stranger explained that the divorce was final and my Dad would have me on the weekends.

So, it was really over; Dad was not coming back home. If I thought I’d lost my innocence a few months earlier, nothing compared to what I felt that day. It wasn’t just my youth that was gone; my whole life was over. “I won’t see him.” Even I was shocked at my tone as I stood up and walked from the room and headed up the stairs to lock myself away in my room.

I wanted to throw things, burn them even, but I didn’t have the strength. I climbed into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and fell asleep with tears streaming down my face, slipping into the darkness that waited for me there.

It was sometime later that I sat up straight in bed, my heart racing and a sickening taste in my mouth. What did Danny mean? Who hadn’t told me what? And where was Sandra? His Mom? My knees trembled as I got up from the bed, as my mind started trying to form the thoughts that teased there. No, it can’t be.

I ran down the stairs to find Mom to ask her if what I suspected was true, but on my way to the family room, I heard voices speaking almost in hushed tones, and my instinct told me to be quiet as I made my approach. “She’ll be crushed. Sandra is her godmother, after all, and she’s always liked her. It will break her heart to know that her Dad had an affair, let alone with that woman.”

I’m not sure when I picked up this nasty habit, but the next thing I knew, it was lights out, and I was hitting the floor with a thud.

 

 

“Uh, hold it. Are you about to fill me in on some high school drama bullshit? Because if you are, not interested.” Hah, didn’t expect that, did you bitch? I kept walking down the hallway to my classroom, ignoring all the looks and whispers, strutting like I was on the first runway at fashion week.

I took the middle seat in the front row of the class and didn’t give a shit who had dibs on it before. I looked around the new classroom and couldn’t believe that I was the same person who had sat in another room that looked pretty much like this just a little more than a year ago. It’s funny what life without constant harassment from your peers can do in a young life.

Hi, I’m Amber Foster, former chubby chubber, acne-prone societal reject. I spent the last four years between these walls being terrorized by the popular and sometimes not-so-popular demons masquerading as teenage students here.

No one applauds brains these days, not since so many college dropouts became world leaders and the universe’s wealthiest men and women, so the fact that I was smarter than everyone else here didn’t matter much to my detractors.

Last time I was here, someone threw a gallon of milk on me from the second floor while I was making my way to my last class of the day, praying not to be noticed by anyone or anything. I guess my prayers fell on deaf ears that day. It was only as I crawled into my Daddy’s old beat-up truck after last bell that I realized I had been holding my breath all day.

At least I made it out without any broken bones or missing clumps of hair. Middle school was hell, and here I was all these years later, enduring the same hell at the hands of the same demon spawns who had shadowed my steps since kindergarten. It’s weird when being satan’s reject is more acceptable than being obese. I like food okay; it was my solace when nothing and no one could protect me from my tormentors.

My poor Mama didn’t know what the hell to do with her one and only. She so looked forward to raising the pink-cheeked baby girl she brought home from the hospital eighteen years ago. I’m sure she imagined playing dress up with the Barbie doll clone she most likely expected her offspring to be, but by the time I was four, it was pretty obvious, if the photos I have seen are anything to go by, that that dream died a horrible death.

There are no cute little flowered dresses with frills on them for plus-sized toddlers, at least not in our town. From the age of four to seventeen, my clothes were a source of embarrassment for my homecoming queen, Mama.

Don’t get me wrong, my Mama was still loving and kind, but it was hard to miss the look of disappointment in her eyes when the whole family got together, and she trotted me out in some monstrosity while my cousins, aka the bulimic brigade along with my aunts, their mother, and my uncle’s wife otherwise known as anorexia and nervosa, had them decked out in the latest and brightest their husbands’ credit cards could buy.

My Mama was a menopause baby. That means that by the time she came along, grandma and grandpa were in their late-late forties, knocking hard at fifty’s door. By then, my Aunt was already out of college, and my uncle was in his last year.

Now, my Mama, she’s a looker. For some reason, she got all the best out of those two old people. She got grandma’s dirty blonde hair, the pin-straight kind, with none of that awful frizz my Aunt Nancy and her daughters are always bitching about, and Grandpa’s cerulean blue eyes.

While Aunt Nancy and Uncle Ryan got Grandpa’s dark hair and Grandma’s brown eyes. They look good on her, but I have no idea what happened to her kids; I just could never find that same warmth in theirs that I always saw in hers.

Anyhow, being as Grandma was going through the change for the first ten years of Mama’s life, and Grandpa was hitting his stride at his firm, Mama was pretty much caught in the crosshairs of crazy and burnt out. That’s my explanation for why, at the ripe old age of sixteen, she got knocked up by the high school quarterback her first time out.

My Daddy came from a better family than Mama’s, but those nuts kicked him out, and he had to drop out of school and get to work to support his girl and kid. Any dreams he had of making it big in the league were dashed to kingdom come, but you wouldn’t know it by the way he carries on about his two best girls ‘til this day.

My Daddy pulled up his bootstraps and, with the help of my Grandpa and Grandma, got an apprenticeship making furniture while my Mama went on to the local college for her degree in nursing while Grandma, who was well out of the clutches of peri the pig menopause, was left to raise yours truly. This, I am sure, is the reason I was the biggest child this family had ever seen.

No one could figure out why I liked eating so much. Truth time, I can’t put all the blame on the degenerates in kindergarten because I was big before I even darkened those doors. Grandma is one of those typicals. Whatever she didn’t get to do or missed out on with her kids, she saved it all for me.

Mind you, she had other grandkids by then, but they were off with their other grandmas or being raised by their SAHM. Though we were all around the same age, give or take a year or two, we couldn’t have been more different.

They were always prissy in their never-get-dirty Sunday best on a Tuesday, while I was more often than not covered in sawdust or some other such thing from head to toe from running around Daddy’s workshop. That’s when I wasn’t rolling around in the mud with my dog, Skipper. That fool never saw a puddle he didn’t like.

My parents never had as much as my Aunt and Uncle, and they and their missing-missing-reasons brats never let us forget it. That is until COVID hit, and all of a sudden, nurses were making bank and online business started to boom.

My Daddy sold more knickknacks online in a few months than he had the year prior, and Mama’s hours increased, but so did her pay, and it went up by a lot. But that’s not all Covid brought our little family of three. Remember how I said my Daddy got disowned? Well, let me tell you, there’s nothing like a death in the family to bring out all the skeletons in some people’s closets.

Try to keep up here. My Daddy’s real Mama died when he was a baby. His Daddy married the hag he was screwing on the side six weeks later under the guise of needing a Mama for his little boy, then proceeded to have four more children who took Daddy’s place. I never knew until the end of the last year of Covid lockdown that my grandma on my Daddy’s side wasn’t his mother.

As bad as she treated him, he never disrespected her and never shared that little tidbit. But that’s not the story I’m trying to tell. Apparently, his real Mama had a long-lost sister that had lost her mind after high school, became a free spirit, and left to travel the world, college be damned.

This Aunt, Gertrude of all things, married some yacht-owning tycoon and sunned her tits on deck for the next thirty years until he died, leaving her more than well off, if you know what I mean. She never had children, never remarried, and guess what? She found out about Daddy’s existence after having cut ties with her family for the better part of sixty years.

Imagine all our surprise when the hotshot lawyer showed up with the papers naming Daddy her sole beneficiary with a letter explaining who she was and why she’d been gone his whole life. Apparently, she only found out about him when she sent her private investigators looking for her long-left sister and learned of her passing many moons ago and the existence of her only begotten son and his daughter, born out of wedlock.

Not long after that, she caught the big C, and it was too late to come back to our state and meet her only remaining relatives. Of course, Daddy thought the man was full of shit until they brought out receipts, and next thing you know, Daddy was signing papers, and we had gone from barely brushing middle class to fuck you; I’m rich bitch.

Now, my parents aren’t no fools. Like every other red-blooded American who thought they got a raw deal, they had dreams of winning the lottery someday and already had their strategy in place. No one, and I mean no one, was to know about this. Not even the Grans. Mama still went to her job, and Daddy still puttered around in his workshop when he wasn’t gazing off with a stupid look on his face like all his marbles were rolling around at the same time.

Every night, the three of us would sit around our little kitchen table huddled together like the walls had ears and plan and plot and grin, and every once in a while, somebody would say, “Can you believe this?”

It was harder for me to believe than those two because this woman, whom I had never met, left me a trust fund and a separate account for college. The fund doesn’t kick in until I’m twenty-one, but whatever, I don’t have to worry because the money I got is a pittance compared to what my Daddy got, and guess who his best girl is?

You’d think that the money was the best thing I got out of the deal, but you’d be wrong. It was the letter she included for me. I have to say that my whole life, my parents and grandparents have told me how beautiful and smart I am, anything to get me to love myself.

It took one page for a complete stranger to get me to believe it. I don’t know what it is; maybe the fact that my loved ones were always there and easily taken for granted, or maybe I just wasn’t ready to hear. But the way she lamented never having met me, her sister’s grandchild, the way she mourned all the years she’d missed, and her wish to have been there did something to me.

This woman, who was already dead by the time I learned of her existence, had written words that made me feel like I was someone worth loving. That, along with my family’s newfound wealth, lit some kind of fire under me. We were in the last dregs of the pandemic from hell at this point, and I took it upon myself to start working out.

Daddy turned our old shed into my home gym. We explained away the purchases that kept showing up by claiming Mama got a raise and how well she was doing. Since I never had any friends, it was easy for me to keep that secret as much as I wanted to bust, and since we were all quarantining, there was no way for anyone to get it out of me.

I spent the last three months of the lockdown working off the fifty or so extra pounds I’d been carrying around since leaving the birth sac. My Daddy and Mama were my champions. Mama helped me work out a healthy meal plan that allowed me to enjoy the things I love in moderation, and since we were together so much due to necessity, my family life became even more beautifully central than ever before.

Now we come to today. I thought long and hard about how I was going to play this. I could play it off like no big deal, pretend the last fourteen years of my life hadn’t been hell because of most of the people between these walls. I could forgive them all, which I have done for my own sake, or I could play judge, jury, and executioner. I picked door number three.

I’m barely eighteen, my brain hasn’t fully developed yet, and I do not have the moral fortitude to forgive and forget. It was hard enough doing the first; it’s gonna take a little while to get through the second.

So, this morning, I put on my new designer jeans and my button-down Dolce blouse with my kickass Manolo ballerina flats, hair glistening from my salon trip to the city and skin dazzling like a summer ripe peach.

I knew when I walked in that heads would turn and mouths would drop. I knew, too, that they would recognize me because of all the “you’d be so pretty if you weren’t so fat” comments from children and parents alike. I looked the same, but now they could see my cheekbones, and my ass is a thing of art, no longer hidden under rolls of fat. Checkmate bitches.

 

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  1. Rebecca said:

    Oh I am so excited for your newest! Lawdy I have read and re-read all your books! Love your writing and the stories you tell! Let’s me get lost in a different world! Thank you so much! Will you be releasing these for Amazon Kindle? I am not familiar with any other reading platforms. Again, thank you!

    Reply

    1. Amanda MacLeod said:

      Good evening I was wondering is this whole book out on patron or is it new thank you

      Reply

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Meet Jordan

Jordan Silver is the author of more than 150 romance novels and novellas featuring over-the-top alpha males and the women who love them. She also writes young adult and new adult fiction under the pen name Cami York, BDSM Romance under Jasmine Starr, and Polyamorous romance under Tiffany Lordes.

 

 

 

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