Demi
“Girl, I swear if one more person bumps into me, I’m going to lose my shit.” McKenna presses herself against the train’s metal pole as another commuter squeezes past us.
I bite back a smile at my best friend's dramatics. “It’s the morning rush, Kenny. What do you expect?”
She throws her arms up in frustration. “I don’t know. Some personal space?” She narrows her eyes at the man inching closer to where we’re standing.
His brows shoot up to his hairline.
“Don’t even think about it,” my bestie growls.
Holding his hands up in surrender, he slowly starts to back away.
Yeah, buddy. You’re barking up the wrong tree. My girl will chew you up and spit you out.
Kenny turns back to me and continues what she was saying like she didn’t just scare a grown man away. “You’d think people would have some decency to say ‘excuse me’ or ‘sorry’?”
I tilt my head from side to side. “True,” I concede. She has a point. It doesn’t cost anyone a thing to use some manners.
She nods her head as if saying, “Exactly.”
That’s my best friend for you. She’s a foul-mouthed ballbuster who doesn’t put up with anyone’s crap.
“This is us,” I say, steadying myself as the train starts to slow. “Ready?”
Kenny’s face lights up with a genuine smile. “Girl, I was born ready.”
Pushing our way through the crowd, we step out onto the platform at Meramec Community College. The sweltering July heat smacks us right in the face.
“Jesus. It feels like Satan’s armpit.” I fan my face with my hand. The humidity is so dang thick today.
“Can you believe we’re actually doing this?” McKenna links her arm through mine as we walk toward campus. “We survived four years of hell in that shitty high school, and now we’re finally here.”
“I won’t believe it until I’m sitting in an actual classroom.” I want to be excited, but I know better. Lady Luck has burned me too many times. Which is why I make it a point not to get my hopes up.
As much as I know better, a flutter of anticipation explodes in my belly as we approach campus.
As we stroll further onto campus there are students sprawled out on the grass in the quad, textbooks open beside them.
Others hurry between buildings on their way to their next classes.
That’s exactly what I want—the freedom that comes with having an education, with having options.
I don’t want to spend the rest of my life like my father.
Bumbling around from part-time job to part-time job.
Always owing someone, always looking over my shoulder.
No thanks.
“Look at them.” I keep my voice low as I nod toward a group of nursing students in scrubs that are crossing the quad. “That’s going to be me in a couple years.”
“And I’ll be on my way to becoming the badass lawyer who gets innocent people out of prison,” she replies, her voice taking on that edge it always does when she thinks about her brother.
Jaxon Lewis was sentenced to life for a murder he didn’t commit when McKenna was just thirteen.
His public defender had been so overworked and underpaid that he’d repeatedly mixed up Jaxon’s case with others, even calling him by the wrong name in court.
It’s the reason McKenna has decided to become a lawyer—to make sure what happened to her brother never happens to anyone else.
“First things first,” I say as we approach the admissions building. “We need to figure out how much this is actually going to cost us.”
McKenna grimaces. “Way to kill the vibe, Dems.”
“Just being a realist, babe.” I shrug. “We both need to find better jobs this summer if we want to make this happen.”
Kenny’s brows snap together. “I thought you were still at Mel’s?”
“I am, but the tips have been really crappy lately. I’m barely covering rent and groceries, let alone saving anything.
” I don’t mention that half my paycheck goes to bailing my dad out of whatever mess he’s gotten himself into at the time.
Not that I really need to, though. McKenna knows all about my dad and his string of get-rich-quick schemes. They never pan out.
McKenna pushes open the door to the admissions office. “Well, I’m definitely looking for something that pays better. Folding clothes at the mall isn’t going to fund my law school dreams.”
The blast of air conditioning hits us as we step inside, and a chill skates down my spine.
“Hi, we’re here to get information about enrolling for fall semester,” I tell the woman at the front desk.
She smiles and hands us each a packet. “The advisors can see you in about fifteen minutes. Have a seat and fill these out while you wait.”
I hand one of the packets to Kenny and walk over to the row of chairs pushed up against the far wall. My stomach twists as I flip through the information.
“Holy shit,” McKenna whispers. “This is a lot of money.”
I swallow hard. “It’s an investment in our future, right?”
But as I scan over the numbers, all I can think is How the hell am I going to make this work?
An hour later, we stumble out of the admissions office, both of us shell-shocked.
“Four thousand dollars,” McKenna says for the tenth time. “Four thousand fucking dollars for one semester. And that’s just tuition and books.”
I nod numbly. “At least there’s financial aid. If we both get those federal grants?—”
“Big if,” she cuts in. “And even then, it probably won’t cover everything.”
We make our way back to the light rail station in silence, the excitement from earlier has evaporated. As we wait for the train, I mentally calculate how many extra shifts I’ll need to pick up at Mel’s to save enough by September.
“Maybe we should rob a bank,” McKenna suggests as we board the southbound train.
I snort. “Yeah, that’ll look great on our college applications. ‘Extracurricular activities: armed robbery.’”
“I’m just saying, there’s gotta be a faster way to make money than serving greasy burgers and double shifts at the mall.”
The train lurches forward, and I grab a handrail to steady myself. “If you figure it out, let me know.”
We fall into easier conversation as the train carries us away from campus and back toward our neighborhood. McKenna launches into the latest drama with her ex-boyfriend, and I’m grateful for the distraction.
“I swear, he’s texted me like fifty times since yesterday,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Like, you cheat on me with my cousin and think I’m going to give you another chance? Please.”
“Men are trash,” I agree automatically, though I don’t have much experience to base that on. Between school, work, and dealing with my dad, I haven’t exactly had time for dating.
“Not all men,” McKenna counters with a smirk. “Have you seen the new bartender at O’Malley’s? Absolute snack.”
I laugh. “You need higher standards than ‘has a pulse and looks good in jeans.’”
“Hey, my standards are sky-high. He also has tattoos and can make a mean mojito.”
I shake my head. One day she’s going to get busted using that fake ID and end up in a world of trouble.
The train slows as we approach our stop. Home sweet home.
“You working tonight?” McKenna asks as we step onto the platform.
I nod. “Four to midnight. You?”
“Nah, I’m off. There’s a party at Jessie’s I want to hit up.” She pauses, eyeing me. “You should come after your shift.”
“Can’t. I’ve got an early shift tomorrow.” The lie slips out easily. The truth is, I can’t afford to go out, not with rent due in a week.
As we round the corner onto our street, a shiny black Escalade catches my attention.
“Whose ride is that?” I ask, nodding toward an expensive looking SUV.
McKenna shrugs. “Probably some dealer’s.”
“Yeah. Probably,” I murmur, quickening my pace slightly.
We climb the concrete stairs to our building, the stairwell reeking of weed. Between the third and fourth floor, we pass two men in expensive suits coming down. They are so out of place in our run down building that McKenna and I exchange wide-eyed glances.
The tall man with slicked-back hair and a tattoo of a V on his neck looks us up and down, making the hair on my neck stand on end. I keep my eyes down until they pass, then shoot McKenna a what-the-fuck look.
She shrugs again, but her expression is tight. “Creeps.”
When we reach my floor, I give her a quick hug. “Text me later?”
“Always do.” She squeezes me back, then continues up the stairs to her apartment on the next floor.
I walk down the dingy hallway to 4C, fishing my keys from my backpack. I jiggle the key in the lock and shove the door open.
“Dad? I’m home,” I call, dropping my bag by the door.
No response. I pull my phone from my pocket and glance at the time. It’s almost one. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s still asleep.
Must be nice.
I step further into our tiny apartment and freeze. The coffee table is overturned, and magazines and empty beer cans are scattered across the floor.
“Dad?” I say louder. “Are you–” The words die on my lips. Crumpled on the floor behind the couch is my father.
“Dad!” I rush over, dropping to my knees. “Oh my God, Dad, wake up!”
My hands hover over his body. I don’t know where to touch him or even if I should. His face is black and blue, one eye almost swollen shut.
“Dad, please.” My voice cracks as I gently shake his shoulder. “Wake up.”
His one good eye flutters open, unfocused and bloodshot.
“Demi?” He rasps.
“I’m here, I’m here. What happened? Who did this to you?” The questions tumble out as I continue to scan his person for injuries. Someone has really worked him over.
“Frankie’s guys,” he slurs, and I can smell the whiskey on his breath. “I owe... I owe him money.”
My stomach drops at the mention of Frankie Fish. “How much?”
“Ten grand.” He coughs, wincing. “Plus interest.”
“Ten—“ I can’t even finish the sentence. Ten thousand dollars? It might as well be ten million. “Jesus, Dad. How? Why?”
“It was a sure thing,” he mumbles.
“No, dad. No.” I cover my face with my hands. This is the same song and dance. It’s always a sure thing. A once in a lifetime opportunity. The same bullshit he’s been feeding me since I was old enough to understand that my dad has a gambling problem.
“They’re gonna kill me, Dem.” His good eye widens with panic, his hand suddenly gripping my wrist too tight. “They said they’d be back. Said this was just a warning.”
A chill runs through me when I realize who he’s talking about. The SUV, the men in the stairwell—they’re Frankie’s guys.
“We need to call the police,” I say, reaching for my phone.
“No!” His grip tightens painfully. “No cops. Frankie’s got people in the department. They’ll know. They’ll come for both of us.”
I don’t know if that’s true or just another of his paranoid delusions, but I can’t take the risk.
“Then what are you going to do?” I ask, frustration bleeding into my voice. “You can’t just magic up ten thousand dollars!”
“The money you’ve been saving,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “We could use that to pay them off.”
For a moment, I can’t speak. He wants me to give him all the money I have. The money that I’ve been saving for school, for my future. “No,” I say firmly. “That’s not an option.”
“Please, Demi.” Tears well in his good eye. “I’m begging you. They’re going to kill me.”
“There has to be another way.” I stand up, needing distance. “We can... I don’t know, work something out with Frankie. A payment plan or something.”
He laughs, a bitter, broken sound that dissolves into another coughing fit. “You think these men work like a fucking credit card company? These people don’t do payment plans.”
“Then what do you expect me to do?” I shout, tears stinging my eyes. “I have two thousand dollars saved. That’s it. That’s all I have in the world.”
“It’s a start,” he says, desperation making his voice crack. “Maybe if we give them that, they’ll give me more time to get the rest.”
I stare at him, this broken man who is supposed to protect me, not the other way around. All my life, I’ve been picking up his pieces, cleaning up his messes, sacrificing my own needs to meet his. And now he wants the one thing I’ve managed to keep for myself.
“I can’t,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Dad, I can’t.”
His face crumples. “Then I’m dead. My own daughter would rather see me dead than help me.”
The unfairness of it hits me like a physical blow. “That’s not?—“
“Just go,” he interrupts, rolling away from me. “Forget about your old man. I’ll figure it out myself.”
I stand there, torn between mad as hell that he’s gotten himself in another situation that he can’t get out of and guilt that I don’t have a way to get him out.
I watch as he pulls the bottle of whiskey that is laying on the floor to him.
With shaking hands, he unscrews the cap and takes a long swallow.
My hands ball into fists. “Seriously? That’s where you think the answer is?”
He doesn’t bother to reply.
Not that I expect him to. This is his MO. When the going gets tough, Bobby Cross gives up.
“I’ll figure something out.” Though I have no idea what the hell I can do.
I walk to my bedroom, closing the door behind me.
Sinking onto my bed, I bury my face in my hands and allow myself thirty seconds of pure panic. Ten thousand dollars. It feels like an impossible task.
But I can’t let him die. For all his faults, all his failures, he’s still my dad. Still the man who taught me to ride a bicycle, who held me when mom died, and in his rare sober moments can make me laugh like no one else can.
I pull out my phone and open my banking app.
$2,126.47.
It’s every cent I have to my name. But it isn’t enough. I need more money, fast.
The tips I make at Mel’s Diner aren't going to cut it. Even if I work double shifts every day, I’ll never make enough in time.
I run through all the things I own that might be worth some money. There’s my laptop. It’s the one I’d gotten in the ninth grade but it still works. I could try to sell my phone and the gold locket that had been my mother’s.
“Shit.” Even if I sell everything I own it won’t come close to ten grand.
Dad has really screwed the pooch this time.
As I flop back on my bed and stare up at the ceiling, Kenny’s words from earlier run through my mind.
I have to find a way to make some quick cash that doesn’t involve robbing a bank.