Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) Page 17

  Except this time, Lawton didn't return the smile.

  And then, something else caught his attention. His gaze left my face, and his expression darkened. I turned and saw exactly what had caught his attention.

  In the Parkers' driveway sat a slick black Mercedes.

  Up ahead, on the Parkers' porch was an unfamiliar man in a flashy business suit. I wasn't expecting anyone. Then again, I hadn't been expecting a lot of people who'd been showing up lately.

  Chapter 47

  I glanced at Lawton. His face was stony, but he said nothing. Chucky, meanwhile, had given up on the cat and was straining toward a group of elderly power-walkers coming toward us.

  I glanced back to the porch. In one hand, the man held a briefcase. In the other, he held a large manila envelope.

  I turned to Lawton and said, "I'll be right back."

  Before he could respond, I dashed ahead, jogging down the Parkers' long driveway and hurrying up to the house.

  The stranger, an overly tanned man with poufy blonde hair, stood legs apart, hands on his hips. He lifted a wrist to study his watch. It looked like a Rolex.

  "Can I help you?" I said.

  Slowly, he turned to face me. "Chloe Malinski?"

  "Yes?"

  "I assume you have I.D.?"

  I froze. When someone comes to your door and demands I.D., it was never a good thing, especially when they looked like a parody of some celebrity lawyer.

  "Do you have I.D.?" I said.

  His gaze narrowed. "Are you the house-sitter or not?"

  I glanced at Lawton, suddenly wishing I'd asked him to come with me. Something was definitely off with this guy.

  The guy followed my gaze. He spotted Lawton, who was watching us with an expression I could only describe as hostile.

  The man cleared this throat. "Sorry," he said, "it's been a hell of a week."

  "You have no idea," I said.

  "Anyway," the man said with another quick glance toward Lawton, "the Parkers sent me."

  "Why?"

  "Because I've got your money, and I'm supposed to deliver it."

  "What money?" I said.

  The man looked at me like I was a world-class moron. "Bounced checks, bank problems, any of this ringing a bell?"

  "Of course it's ringing a bell," I said, "but I wasn't expecting someone to show up here in person."

  "Yeah? I wasn't expecting to be running my ass all over town today, but here I am. So I guess we're both surprised now, aren't we?"

  "By any chance," I said, "are you the brother-in-law?"

  His gaze narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Never mind," I said.

  "Yeah? Well, don't believe everything you hear," the guy said. "I did everything I was supposed to. It's not my fault if it got all messed up."

  "Of course," I said.

  "So like I said, I've got your money." He gave me a deadpan look. "But obviously, I can't just fling it at whoever comes up the driveway claiming to be the house-sitter. I need to see some I.D. Got it?"

  Grudgingly, I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out my slim travel wallet. I retrieved my driver's license and handed it over.

  He gave it barely a glance before handing it back. Then, he pulled the envelope from under his arm, undid the clasp, and reached inside to remove a small sheet of paper.

  That done, he held out the envelope toward me. "Your money," he said.

  I took the envelope and peered inside. I saw a neat stack of bills. I was thrilled to get it, but utterly confused by the method. "Cash?" I said.

  "Yeah. The Parkers were pretty ticked. They figured you wouldn’t trust a check. By the way, this covers the next month's expenses too, so don't be trying to cash any of those old checks."

  "Should I count it, or—"

  "Yeah, and I've got to watch, because if any of it goes missing, I'm not getting the blame this time. Besides, you've gotta sign a receipt." He glanced toward the front door. "Wanna invite me inside?"

  "Not particularly," I said.

  "Suit yourself," he said, "but that's a big wad of money to be counting out here in the open."

  "Yeah, well I'm not exactly alone," I said with a quick glance toward the street, where Lawton still watched with an ever-darkening expression. Obviously, this was taking way too long.

  I pulled out the money and started counting, adding as I went. Mentally, I compared the amount of cash to the total of all those bad checks.

  When I was done counting, I felt myself smile. It covered everything – the checks, the overdraft fees, and, as Mrs. Parker had promised, a nice bonus. I wouldn't be splurging on a spa treatment, but a new car battery was definitely in my future.

  I felt like a huge weight had lifted from my shoulders. And to be honest, I felt more than a little guilty for not giving the Parkers the benefit of the doubt.

  "By any chance," I said, "do you know anything about their lease?"

  "Yeah, that got all screwed up too," he said. "That'll be my next stop. Lucky me."

  I pulled the money from the envelope, rolled it up, and stuffed it in the front pocket of my jeans. Still smiling, I handed him back the empty envelope. "Got a pen?" I said.

  He pulled a shiny gold pen from his lapel pocket. He handed it over along with the receipt. I checked the amount, signed on the dotted line, and then handed it back.

  With raised eyebrows, the man glanced down at my front pocket. "You really planning to walk around with that?" he said. "Seems to me, you'd want to put it inside. Someplace safe and all."

  I couldn't help it. I laughed. I pointed toward the street. "See that guy out there?"

  The man looked and then gave a short nod.

  "That's my bodyguard." I patted my pocket. "I think I'll be fine."

  "Yeah. But who's gonna guard you from him?"

  "Well, there is the dog," I said.

  In unison, we turned to look. Chucky was flopped over Lawton's shoes, staring up at the clouds.

  "Um, yeah. Good luck with that," the man said, turning to walk back to his car. A moment later, he got inside and drove off.

  I shoved the cash deeper into my pocket and jogged back to where Lawton waited, his posture stiff and his expression stony.

  "Sorry about that," I said.

  Lawton didn't respond. He was still looking toward the house. His gaze narrowed.

  "Ready to finish our walk?" I said.

  "First," he said, turning to face me. "Tell me something. What's the money for?"

  Chapter 48

  I looked up at him, taking in his tight jaw and hard eyes. I looked down at Chucky. He was still flopped on Lawton's feet like all that spazzing had worn him completely out.

  Perfect. Just when I could use a good distraction, Chucky decides to roll over. Didn't he have a squirrel to chase or something?

  Then again, I shouldn't need a distraction. It's not like I'd done a damn thing wrong.

  The mental whiplash was making me crazy. First, I was mad at the Parkers and happy to see Lawton. Now, I was fine with the Parkers, and unhappy with whatever Lawton's problem was.

  Did I ask him about his financial arrangements? No. Not even once. Even though his stuff had to be a whole lot more interesting than mine.

  I lifted my chin. "I don't really like the tone of your question," I said.

  "Alright," he said. "Then how about this one? Who do you live with?"

  "What?"

  "It's a simple question, Chloe."

  "I already told you, I don't live with anyone."

  He pointed toward the Parkers'. "So that's your house."

  "No," I said in a tone far more patient than I felt. "And I've already told you that."

  "Uh-huh." He moved his hand in a forward motion. "Go on."

  "With what?" I said.

  "Your explanation."

  "What's gotten into you?" I said. "It's a job. That's what the money's for. There. You happy?"

  His expression didn't change. I looked to the s
idewalk. Chucky looked up at me as if he was also were waiting for some sort of explanation. Or maybe he just wanted a treat. That made two of us.

  I threw up my hands. "What do you want me to say? That this house is beyond my price range?" I felt my face grow warm. "Well, obviously it is. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

  Erika's words echoed in my brain. Was she right? Was I ashamed of being a paid interloper?

  Growing up, I'd been a poor kid in a rich district. But it had never held me back. I still had friends. I got good grades. It was totally fine.

  So what if I never hosted sleep-overs or went on field trips? And so what if my clothes were shabby and I had to cut my own hair? I didn't care, and neither should Lawton. It's not like he'd been born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

  "All I want to hear," he said, "is the truth."

  I reached up to rub the back of my neck. Everything was getting all jumbled. If this conversation kept going, we'd both end up saying something we'd regret. I didn't want that to happen. And if it did end up happening, I sure as hell didn't want that happening on the sidewalk in front of the house.

  "Can we talk about this somewhere else?" I said.

  "If that's what you want," he said, turning away from me. As if sensing the movement, Chucky jumped up and bounded forward, ready to torment the next squirrel or mail truck or whatever.

  Lawton started walking, and so did I. We walked in silence, step after step, passing house after house. Of course, calling them houses was a vast understatement. They were houses in the same way that Erika's first Porsche had been just a car.

  Silently, I sorted through my thoughts, trying to decide who I hated more, Lawton or myself – him for the unexpected attitude or me for not understanding why he was so mad.

  Up ahead, I spotted his estate. It was our starting point and our final destination. I gave Lawton a sideways glance. His jaw was tight and his gaze remained straight ahead. The hand that held Chucky's leash was fisted so tight, it was practically a death grip.

  Too soon, we were at his front door. He opened it up, but made no move to go inside. Supposedly, we were spending the day together. But somehow, I didn't see that happening.

  He turned toward me and held out the leash. Silently, I took it. Our gazes met. What he saw in mine, I had no idea, but his own eyes were so cold that I stifled a shiver.

  Apparently, the script called for me to slink away, dismissed like some gardener who had accidentally uprooted the begonias.

  Screw that.

  I put my hands on my hips. "Lawton," I said, "what the hell is your problem?"

  "My problem?"

  Suddenly, I felt a tug on my hand. A split second later, Chucky bolted past Lawton and into the house. I spotted the tail end of the leash, dragging along the tile floor as Chucky disappeared from sight.

  "Chucky!" I yelled. "Damn it."

  In front of me, Lawton didn't budge, and he didn't turn around. He was focused on me.

  "Wanna know what my problem is?" he said. "Alright, here it is. When I think of someone else holding you, touching you –" his voice caught. "– being with you in the ways I'm with you, it makes me want to tear their fuckin' throat out."

  Chapter 49

  I stared up at him. "What someone? Who the hell are you talking about?"

  "You tell me."

  "I can't," I said. "Because he doesn't exist."

  "Alright. Then who was that guy?"

  "Which one?"

  He shrugged.

  I stared at him in disbelief. "You mean the guy on the porch?"

  "That'd be a good start," he said.

  "You've got to be kidding me. That guy? You seriously think he's my boyfriend or something?"

  He shook his head. "That's not what I said."

  "Then what are you saying?"

  "I'm saying that I don't get it."

  "Get what?"

  "Alright," he said. "I'll spell it out. I don't get why some guy in a fancy car would be showing up on your doorstep and handing you a pile of cash. I don't get who you live with, or why you've never asked me inside."

  His voice rose. "I don't get why you're getting 'business' calls at midnight on a Sunday night or why I'd happen to drive by early this morning and see some guy in a sports car leaving your house."

  I wanted to shrink back, surprised by the simmering rage brought to the surface. Instead, I took a step forward and glared up at him. "You're twisting everything around, making it sound worse than it is."

  "Is that so?" He crossed his arms and waited. "Then go ahead. Tell me how you'd say it."

  "I already told you." I gestured vaguely toward the Parkers' house. "I get paid to stay there. What don't you get?"

  I threw up my hands. "Yeah. I do it for money. Big fucking deal. And the reason I didn't tell you right from the start is because that's part of the deal. I'm supposed to look like I actually belong here."

  In front of me, Lawton was a mass of coiled muscles and stony features. He said nothing, and I kept on going.

  "Yeah." I made a scoffing sound. "I've got the dog, I've got the plants. Hell, I've even got some stupid lawn guy coming once a week to trim shit that doesn't need trimming." My voice cracked. "But it's all about the money, because I don't have any of my own."

  I looked down at my pocket, bulging with cash mostly already spent. Here, I'd been so happy to get it, and for what? For a new car battery and a whole lot of grief from someone richer than God?

  I swallowed a sob. "I'm broke. There, you happy?"

  His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

  "Yeah. You want the whole story? Well, here it is. I've got a Grandma who gets all her rent money from this fake job I had to make up. I've got a kid brother who thinks our mom gives some sort of a crap, even though she doesn't. I've got student loans from a degree that as far as I can tell, probably cost me a lot more than the damn thing's worth."

  My voice rose. "And now, I've got you ragging on me like I’m some kind of horrible person."

  His eyes softened. "Chloe—"

  "Don't 'Chloe' me," I said. "What the hell? Have you been rich so long that you've forgotten what it's like to live in the real world?"

  He took as step toward me. "Chloe, you need money? I mean, shit, why didn't you say something?"

  He reached a hand toward his back pocket. An image flashed in my brain, the memory of Brittney plucking cash from his outstretched hand.

  I wasn't a Brittney. I lifted my chin. "I don't want your charity. As you so aptly observed, I just got paid. So I'm practically rich, right?"

  "But you just said—"

  "I know what I said. Quit rubbing my nose in it, alright?"

  His eyebrows furrowed. "But what about your waitressing job?"

  "What about it?"

  "So you do that for the money too, not–?"

  "For the ego trip?" I gave a bark of laughter. "You ever work as a waitress? It's fucking hard work. I take shit all night long from people who act like they're better than me just because they're sitting down, and I'm standing up. I dress like some bimbo and act like I'm stupid, for God's sake."

  I tugged at a strand of my hair. "You know how many times I've got to wash this to get the hairspray out? You think I'm doing this for some sort of ego trip." I made a sound of disgust. "That's rich."

  I glanced around the neighborhood. "At least with this job, I get to dress how I want. And I get to live in a nice place where people treat me half-way decent."

  His voice was very quiet. "And that's good enough for you?"

  "It's gotta be. I've just got to keep doing what I'm doing, that's all."

  "But Chloe," he said, "you don't need to. Not anymore."

  "Oh yeah? Why not?"

  "You just don’t."

  The way he was looking at me, I'd seen it before. Too many times, in fact. I'd seen it on the faces of the rich girls in my class who went to Disney every winter. I'd seen it on the faces of my friends' parents when they offered me rides to places I couldn't aff
ord.

  It was that awful combination of surprise and pity. And I knew exactly what came next.

  Lawton pushed a hand through his hair. "So, you want a loan or something? I mean, if you won't take money –" He blew out a breath. "All I'm saying is, you don't have to do this. Don't go back there, alright?"

  I thought of my other options. My mom's shitty apartment? Yeah, because I just loved to listen to her and some random loser screw like monkeys in the apartment's only bedroom while I covered my head with a couch pillow.

  Or how about my Dad's house? The place had four bedrooms, but none I was welcome in. Loretta had hated me from day one. She still hated me. And my Dad was a giant, pussy-whipped bastard who'd rather see his daughter sleep in the basement than make a ripple with his psycho second wife.

  Or what about my own place? Oh, that's right. I couldn’t afford one.

  I felt something warm encircle my body. Lawton's arms. He was holding me tight against his chest. "Baby, don't cry," he said. "I'm sorry. We'll work it out. You can move in with me, alright?"

  I heard a sob. Oh, God, it was coming from me. I was crying. I almost never cried, and now, it seemed like I was crying all the time.

  And I couldn’t help it. I leaned into him, soaking up his strength and the soothing sounds he made in my ear.

  We stood like that for what seemed like a long time until my tears were spent and his shirt was soggy. And yet, I couldn't seem to make myself move.

  Even through the soft cotton fabric, his chest was rock-hard against my cheek. I felt the muscles in his arms and the tightness of his stomach. It felt like a slice of heaven wrapped up in a perfect package, delivered just to make my life complete.

  Erika was right. I should've been honest with him all along. Well maybe not all along, but certainly after we'd become intimate. I vowed that as soon as I got the chance, I'd call her and tell her how right she was.

  "I've been such an idiot," I said. "I should've told you sooner." I gave a little laugh. "Like it's such a big deal, right?"

  His body stiffened, as if the memory of our argument – correction, multiple arguments – were something he'd rather forget. And then, he clutched me tighter.

  "Baby, I don't want you to do this with anyone else. Not ever."