Page 5 of Sinful as They Come (Sinful Trilogy #1)

SAWYER

I slammed the front door harder than I needed to. Bad habit, but fuck it, I was pissed. There was one easy way to get on my bad side. One sure fire way to piss me off – and that was bringing up that part of my life.

“Trailer Park Trash,” I bitterly repeated the words Carter said to me.

I eyed the wooden paneling on the walls of the trailer that I called home.

It was cramped, but I had done my best to make it look like a home for as long as I could remember.

The gray three-seater couch was covered in a few blankets to make an attempt at a cozy environment.

It somewhat worked. Directly across from the lounge was our TV.

It was old and second hand, and you had to beat the side of it two or three times to get a decent picture, but it got the job done.

Standing in front of the couch meant you could look right into the kitchen.

That was on the smaller side, the walls covered in an array of cabinets that were often empty and in need of stocking up.

Same thing could be said for the magnet covered fridge.

Under the cabinets sat the oval-shaped dining table.

It was barely used. No fun, wholesome family dinners had been ever shared there.

I hated almost everything about the place I called home. It had been housing me and my dad for the last eighteen years – and just my luck, it was his name on the lease agreement. Kicking his ass out wasn’t an option.

Moving out cost money too. Money I didn’t have. ‘Cause that meant starting over. I’d get there one day, though. Not tomorrow. But soon. I had to. I was saving up for that sweet day where I could leave and never see my dad’s face ever again.

The trailer was small and old and was in need of a serious renovation. I had done my best to fix the small problems: the jammed doors and the faulty wiring and the AC going to hell. Dad was no help, but I kept the place clean and relatively livable.

People thought it was a dump.

But it was my dump.

And I fucking hated it when people brought it up. Guys like Carter didn’t get it. Assholes like him had everything handed to him. Same with his little girlfriend. Fuck the both of them. They deserved each other.

I knew for a fact that he was a shitty boyfriend. I may have been the last person to ever be part of the popular crowd – but I heard ever rumor about the two of them. Dude was fucking half the cheerleading team and she either didn’t know or didn’t care.

“Stop with the damn racket!” My dad called out.

A lovely greeting. I rolled my eyes. “Good afternoon to you as well.”

I looked at my dad who was seating in the fake leather recliner.

He was in his usual seat with his usual old T-shirt shirt with the usual beer in his hand.

He didn’t work. Didn’t want to. Which was another problem.

I not only had to go to school, I also had to work so we had some cash.

If it wasn’t for me, we’d have no money for food and rent.

Working as a mechanic wasn’t too bad, especially when the shop was run by Marve.

Marve used to live at the trailer park before he started making some decent cash due to him being the only honest mechanic in the city.

He had taken me under his wing back in the day and I had gotten good at fixing cars around the park when I was a kid. There wasn’t much else to do, anyway.

But I had been a quick learner, and fixing cars was quick cash.

The best part was that he didn’t care that I had been in and out of juvie the last few years.

It was all for stupid shit. Some school fights, some vandalism.

Either way, he wasn’t bothered. Going to school and working at the same time was hard .

“Where the hell is Brodie?” he asked. “Or did he realize how useless you are and take off already?”

I moved to the window near the door to see where Brodie was. He had been behind me a minute ago. I shook my head at him. He was busy observing some of the plants I had placed out the front to spruce the place up a bit.

“He’s outside,” was my simple answer.

Dad glared at me. His once dark brown hair had turned all gray and it was slowly fading.

His skin was sagging and his arms were covered in tattoos that also didn’t stand the test of time.

They had lost their color too. His green eyes – the ones I unfortunately inherited from him – locked onto mine. He had something else to say.

“You don’t just come in here and make all that fucking noise!” he yelled.

“What, am I interrupting something important?” I stared at the TV screen. That was all he liked doing. Drinking. Gambling. TV. Lather, rinse, repeat. It was the same thing every day. “My bad. Sorry. Didn’t realize you were fucking busy.”

He shook his head once. “Don’t talk to me like that, boy.”

“I’m not a fucking boy anymore.” My teeth were gritted as I spoke. “And I can talk to you how I want. I can do what I fucking want in here since it’s me who pays for the rent, the food, and whatever else this shit hole needs.”

“You think you’re so good because you got a job?” He stood up, stumbling on his feet. He was already so fucking drunk despite the sun not even setting yet.

“That’s not what makes me better than you.”

“ Nothing makes you better than me. You’re the reason your mother left. Don’t forget that. The reason we’re in this shit hole is because she fucking hated you. She hated you the second she saw your face.”

My hands turned into fists. The room suddenly got a lot hotter. There was one other thing that got under my skin – but no one else at school knew about it, so I usually didn’t have to worry about someone throwing it in my face. But my own dad loved to bring it up.

Mom took off the year I started school and I didn’t blame her a single bit.

Things were shit before that point but they got even worse when it was just me and dad.

A lot worse. But he loved bringing her up.

I understood why she left, but God, I wished she had taken me with her.

She was busy with her new family. Bet they didn’t get screamed at every time they came home.

“Keep drinking that shit,” I finally muttered out. “Hope it kills you.”

I walked away at that. I didn’t want to look at him anymore.

I breathed heavily as I walked to my room, needing some space.

Some distance. If I got close to him, I’d fucking punch him right in the jaw.

I slammed the door shut behind me and ignored my dad crying out a very loud “you fucking little bitch!” and just zeroed in on my bed.

God, it looked like heaven. A groan left my mouth as I fell on to the queen-sized mattress.

My head was killing me. That argument hadn’t helped.

I wondered what was in the fridge. There had been chicken wings in there in the morning, but judging by the stains on my dad’s shirt, he had probably already had at ‘em. I’d have to find something for me and Brodie.

Speak of the devil.

I heard his voice from behind my door. I didn’t say anything.

Just flipped over and kicked my shoes off before I sat up against the wall.

My room was also a dump. But I had made it my own.

There were a few band posters on the walls.

The table in the far-left corner was dedicated to all my art supplies.

A few canvases leaned up against the wall: some done, some on the way to being completed.

The two-door closet across from my bed was stocked with plaid shirts and tees.

My room was nothing special, but at least it was mine.

Brodie suddenly pushed the door open without asking. He looked like he was moping.

“I warned you what he was like,” I told my cousin.

“I know. I just… I didn’t know what to expect,” Brodie sighed. “But I couldn’t stay in Wichita anymore after the divorce. Too messy. I’m surprised your dad let me stay here in the first place.”

“I’m not. You’re his favorite,” I said a little bitterly. Dad always liked his nephews and nieces more than he liked me. I patted down my jacket and found my lighter and box of cigarettes, groaning a little when I saw I only had three left. Damn.

Lighting up a cigarette, I took in the solemn look that stayed on Brodie’s face. He was the sensitive one between the two of us, but if he was planning on living with me until his parents got their shit together, he’d have to harden up.

“You look like you’re about to cry,” I said with a mumble, the cigarette in between my lips.

“I just feel bad for you.”

“I don’t need your sympathy, Brodie. It’s like this all the time. I’m used to it.”

“That’s sad.”

I rolled my eyes. “What do you want for dinner?”

“I dunno.” Brodie shrugged. “I’m kinda in the mood for some pizza. I heard that diner downtown is good. Freddy or Frank’s or…”

“Fran’s. We ain’t going there. No way.”

“Why?”

I rubbed at my forehead. I didn’t mind the place. I knew it was good. But that was where the cheerleaders and football guys liked to hang out. Which meant there was a good chance we’d bump into Carter and Holly. Maybe it was a good idea, actually. I could beat his ass off school property…

“Your little girlfriend likes to eat there.” I puffed out a few circles of smoke, watching as they moved up higher and higher into the air before disappearing into nothing. “And I don’t wanna see her face.”

“What’s up with her and Carter, by the way?” There was a curious look on his face, his dark eyebrows furrowed.

“Look, if you wanna fuck her, you’re on your own. I don’t keep tabs on them.”

“I don’t wanna fuck her. She’s just a friend.”

I scoffed. There was no way that Holly could be a good friend to anyone, especially someone like Brodie.

“You barely even know her. And already you’re falling for her? Her tits aren’t that big, man. Not worth it. Not even a little bit. ”

"Uh, speaking of... Did you mean what you said?" Brodie asked, his voice uncharacteristically low.

"About?"

Brodie's eyes widened, his hands by his chest. "Does Holly... Did she get... Does Holly have implants?" he finally asked, his words all rushed.

I rolled my eyes. "I was kidding, Brodie. Her huge tits are probably the only real thing about her, because trust me, she is a superficial, stuck up, pain in the fucking ass. Not sure why you're interested in that, though."

“I told you: I’m not interested,” my cousin insisted. “I just meant that her and Carter seem so different. She’s so nice, and Carter’s such a prick.”

“Don’t let her hear you saying that.” I laughed. “She loves him.”

“It doesn’t make sense when she’s so sweet…”

“First of all, Holly Sutton is not sweet. There’s nothing sweet about that prissy little know-it-all,” I muttered, the cigarette hanging loosely between my lips.

“Second of all, she deserves to be with that piece of shit. The guy’s fucking the whole cheerleading team and she doesn’t even bat an eye. ”

Brodie shut the door, his eyes widening like he just heard the most exclusive piece of gossip in his life. “Does she know?”

“I guess not. She’s probably so fucking stupid she doesn’t even realize. Who knows? And who cares? Why are you so concerned?”

Brodie gave me a lazy shrug. “She’s just been really nice to me since I started.”

I stood up, shaking my head. “She’s using you. You’re writing for her stupid, little paper. She just wants your brain.” I pointed a heavy finger at his forehead, watching as he laughed and smacked at my hand. “Come on. Let’s go eat. You want pizza? I can get you pizza. But not from Fran’s.”

“Alright. Sounds good.”

I turned back to my bed, ducking my head under it as I reached forward. Inching my hand further and further in, I smiled in triumph when I came into contact with metal.

“What the hell are you doing?” laughed Brodie.

“I told you I can get you pizza. But I’m not made of money. Precautions are necessary in this household. ”

I pulled the box forward, sweeping it out from under the bed.

It had a light layer of dust on it that I swiped right off.

Lifting up the lid, I shoved all the pieces of paper and photos out of the way before I found a wrinkled envelope with my stack of cash.

I pulled out a twenty-dollar note and tucked it into my pocket.

Then I made sure to put everything back how it was.

“Is that stolen?” Brodie wondered with curious eyes.

“No. This is my work money.”

“You don’t trust the bank?” snorted Brodie.

“I don’t trust anyone. Especially that fucker out there.

If he finds it, he’ll spend it all on beer and slot machines.

Besides, working under the table has its benefits.

” I shoved the twenty into the pocket of my leather jacket.

“Alright, let’s go. We’ll eat there. I wanna avoid this place as much as possible. ”

“What else is in the box?” Brodie asked.

“Huh?” I feigned ignorance.

“What else is in there?”

My hand rubbed at the back of my neck. I kept special stuff in the box. Stuff I didn’t want anyone else getting their hands on. “Letters and shit. And photos. Of Mom. That’s… That’s all I have of her.”

Brodie looked like he wanted to say something, but he just nodded.

He knew better than to pry and he already knew the story anyway.

We went back into the living room, and that was when I saw that my dad had fallen asleep.

The beer that had been in his hand earlier had tipped over, spilling the liquid right on to him.

“Should we…?” Brodie started.

“No,” I cut him off. “Let’s go. I’m hungry. Fuck him. He can feed himself.”

Was I being cruel? Maybe. But he deserved it. I didn’t care if he was my own father. He sure as hell didn’t act like it. I had always been a burden to him. Always. Soon I’d be gone, though. Once school was over with, once I had enough cash, then I was done with him and the shit hole I called home.