PRESENT DAY
I glance between the two cards on the table in front of me and my phone in my hand.
It’s been soooo hot today down at the beach! Just got home. BTW we’re thinking of all heading out tonight. Maybe Venice or the Hollywood sign. Can you take Eden with you and meet us wherever we decide to go? It’s just easier that way, Tiffani has texted.
I lift my head and glance off into the distance, over beyond the bustling pier. For June, the weather is good. The morning smog burned off quickly, leaving behind clear blue skies and burning sunshine all day. For a Tuesday, the crowds are pretty hectic too.
I’ve been at the beach all afternoon too, but on the south end, the opposite side of the pier. As far as Tiffani is concerned, I’ve been at home all day, and luckily, we haven’t bumped into each other.
Maaaan, sounds good. Mom’s still grilling me about Saturday, but I’ll try make a getaway later, I text back, and I cringe as I send the message. Lying to Tiffani isn’t anything new, but I still feel shitty every time I do. It’s also risky too. She hates it if I don’t even pick up a damn phone call, so she would flip if she knew I was lying to her.
I set my phone back down and focus on the game as cards are dealt and as cash is placed down, even though I don’t really have a damn clue what I’m doing. I’ve been down here at the beach for a couple hours now, sat around this old rickety table playing blackjack with a couple guys I’ve never met before. They’re older, at least mid-twenties, and they’ve been eyeballing me with distrust the entire time. Kaleb’s here too, though he’s not playing because every half hour or so he disappears off on a drop-off.
The elusive Declan Portwood is also here. He’s been laying low for the past couple weeks, so it’s good to finally see him around again. Declan wears a very taut expression almost constantly, his gaze always serious, but he’s well dressed and clean-shaven. The gold watch on his wrist shines when the sun catches it. To those who don’t know him, he’s just some rich college student. The rest of us know that he makes big bucks from the shit ton of weed he grows in his attic.
I guess that’s why he invited me here today. To get me in on the circle, to do exactly what Kaleb and these other guys do. So far, it seems pretty straightforward. He’ll sell me his shit, and I do the distributing and keep the profit. I don’t have much to lose. I wouldn’t be here if I did.
“I had an idea,” Declan announces. He finishes dealing the cards and then leans back in his chair, kicking up sand. “How about a little party? You know, a party among ourselves. No strangers, just the people we’re cool with.”
Warren sits up and rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward with an eyebrow raised. He has huge shoulders and tribal tattoos snake their way around his impressive biceps. “When?”
“This weekend,” Declan says. He pushes his sunglasses down over his eyes and lowers his voice. “I’ll have some real good stuff ready, and I wanna move it quick. It’s risky, but there’ll be good money in it. Your rent is due, isn’t it, Liam?”
Liam nods, falling victim to Declan’s smooth convincing. Liam is a walking stereotype. There’s bags under his eyes and his stubble is unruly, and the fact that he has two fucking phones laid out on the table in front of him is an absolute giveaway. He also twitches every once in a while, and I honestly can’t tell if he’s high or if he’s sober. “Count me in,” he says.
“Sorry, guys, gotta get back out there,” Kaleb says as he rises to his feet for what feels like the fifth time. “What’s up with everyone needing a hook-up today? It’s fucking Tuesday,” he mumbles, and without another word, he turns around and walks off, keys to his truck in hand.
“Hear that, Tyler?” Declan says, angling his jaw toward me. I can’t see his eyes behind his dark shades, but the corner of his mouth does quirk into a smirk. He rubs his thumb against his index and middle finger. “Dirty, dirty money.”
Warren fires me a look, cocking his head to one side. He looks me straight up and down, then he asks, “What’s a rich white boy like you doing here anyway? You obviously don’t need the extra cash.” He scoffs and throws a pointed glance over his shoulder toward my car, parked not even a hundred feet away from us in one of the south parking lots. Then, he narrows his eyes at Declan. “Portwood, how do you even know this kid? ’Cause he looks like a cop’s son or some shit to me. I bet he’s voice recording us right this second.”
“Relax,” Declan orders with a minute shake of his head. “He’s cool. Been fucking with me since, like, what? Freshman year? Isn’t that right, Tyler? I can trust you, can’t I?” He edges in closer to me and lifts his sunglasses, his dark eyes studying me. He’s still smirking.
I reach for my cards and toss a fifty-dollar bill onto the table. I don’t even care if I win or lose this game, I just don’t want these guys thinking I can’t keep up with them. I’m younger, sure, but I’m probably slicker. “If you couldn’t trust me, you wouldn’t have asked me to come out here,” I state.
Declan’s smirk grows and he sits back again, lowering his shades back over his eyes. He gives me a small nod and then focuses his attention back on his own cards.
“That ain’t explaining why he’s here,” Warren speaks up, but I wish he would stop questioning me. Why is he here? I bet it’s for the money, and not because his life is a fucking mess like mine.
“Man, what does it matter?” Liam asks, rolling his eyes. Still can’t tell if he’s stoned or not. “Let’s just get this round played.”
But Warren won’t stop pursuing an answer, and I honestly don’t know why he gives a damn. “You know, us guys only get involved in this shit when we don’t have any other choice. So, Tyler with the flashy sports car, what left you with no options? Did Daddy stop paying for all your shit?”
I throw my cards down and shoot to my feet, pressing my palms down flat on the table. My jaw is tight as I lean toward Warren, narrowing my eyes at him as fiercely as I can so that he gets the memo not to say anything more. “Daddy’s locked up, asshole.”
Usually, I would never square up to anyone twice my size and nearly a decade older than me, but there are some things that I can’t stay rational about. Like whenever Dad is brought up. No one knows the truth about why he’s really in prison, which means no one knows how agonizing it is when I’m reminded of him. I snap way too easily.
Warren doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid at me, nor flinch an inch. “Well, that makes sense then,” he says slowly, looking up at me, laughing. “You’re following in his footsteps, bro.”
There it is—the snap. My chest tightens and I grind my teeth so hard my jaw aches as I launch myself at him, swinging my fist straight into the corner of his mouth. I don’t even register what I’m doing. I have learned by now that when I snap, I am uncontrollable. The adrenaline floods through me as Warren jolts back in his chair, and then he scrambles to his feet, hoists up his pants, and raises his fists.
“Oh, cut it the fuck out,” Declan groans. He heaves a sigh and stands up, stepping in between Warren and me. Liam watches silently, and I decide then that, yes, he’s high.
My glare is fixated on Warren as I breathe heavily, my heart pounding in my chest, and his nostrils are flaring angrily. He wipes a spit of blood from his mouth and shakes his head, dropping his fists.
At the same time, I hear a voice yell, “What the hell are you doing?” and when I glance up, my heart almost stops when I see Dave marching across the sand toward us. Two thoughts run through my mind at once: One, what the hell is Dave doing here at the beach? And two, my stepdad cannot come over here right now, not when I’m standing next to fucking Declan, who deals a lot more than just a hand of crap cards.
“Declan, I’ll hit you up, okay?” I splutter quickly, and before Dave can get any closer, I break into a sprint and head over to him instead. At this point, I’m willing to let him yell at me, just so that we can get away from here.
“What the hell was that, Tyler?” Dave asks, voice raised. He throws his hands up in frustration and stares at me in disbelief. I never fail to surprise him. It’s like whenever he thinks I can’t get any worse, I go ahead and prove him wrong. “You’re grounded, which means you’re supposed to be at home. Not here! Are you gambling?” He takes a step around me to look back at Declan and the others, but I step closer to him, blocking his view. He doesn’t need to know who Declan is. Ever.
“We’re just messing around. It’s only a game,” I explain, lying through my teeth.
“A game where you throw punches? Huh?” He gets all up in my face, his eyes wild. I’ve figured by now that either Dave has a tough love sort of approach to parenting, or he just hates me. “Did you just blow a bunch of money? Is that why you’re pissed?”
“Yeah, I lost,” I lie, stepping back from him. Lying is much easier than admitting I threw a punch because I can’t bear the thought of my dad, though I’m sure if I told Dave this, he’d understand. At least I’d like to think so. He knows how badly my dad hurt me when I was a kid.
Dave pinches the bridge of his nose and inhales deeply. “Get in your car and follow me home. Right now,” he orders.
“Dave, c’mon—”
“No,” he cuts in. “I said right now. You’re going home to your mom.” He grasps my shoulder and firmly guides me across the beach, back up to the parking lot where both our cars are parked. I don’t put up a fight and I don’t glance back over my shoulder either, because I know Warren is probably laughing his ass off at me being escorted home by my fucking stepdad. Now I really do feel like a kid, so I keep my head low.
Once we reach our cars, I shrug Dave’s hand off my shoulder and pull open my door, sliding inside. But Dave slams his hand down on the roof of the vehicle before I can close it again.
“Straight home, Tyler,” he says firmly, fixing me with a look. “I know you’ve got a lot to deal with, but you can’t keep doing stuff like this.”
I roll my eyes at him as I pull my door shut. He really thinks I’m going to take off as though I’m scared of him? I really don’t have the energy, and honestly, I don’t even care that much. I was planning on heading home soon anyway.
It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back to the house, but it feels like forever, mostly because I am stuck behind Dave and every time we are stopped at a set of lights, I can see him glowering at me in his rearview mirror. I pretend not to notice, though, and I play my music too loud with my window down all the way back to Deidre Avenue.
Dave says nothing more to me and I say nothing more to him as we both park up and head for the front door. I even let him march off ahead first into the house while I stroll nonchalantly after him, and honestly, it’s almost amusing just how heated Dave can get when it comes to dealing with me. I really grind his gears, but I have done ever since Mom first introduced us a few years ago. It’s like he moved down here to LA, hoping for this new, perfect life, and he almost has it. We’ve got the big house in the nice neighborhood. He drives a nice car. He’s pretty high up at the company he works for, I think. He’s got Mom, who’s amazing, and he’s got Jamie and Chase, who I guess are pretty cool. But then he also got me, and I’m not exactly perfect, so I can’t really blame him for getting frustrated at me. Who cares? I’m over it.
“Ella!” he yells as soon as we walk inside the house. I scrunch up my face in disgust when I realize Mom’s cooking steak, because the scent wafting down the hall is enough to make me feel nauseous. “You’ll be glad to know I found Tyler!”
I follow Dave to the kitchen, and Mom spins around to look at us both as soon as we enter. Her hair is clipped back and she stares mostly at me, frowning as her shoulders sink.
“Do you want to know what I just witnessed?” Dave asks, his voice raised. He sounds like an asshole right now, like he enjoys throwing me under the bus to Mom. He’s wasting his breath, though. “So here I am, heading down to Apian Way to drop off some paperwork on my way home, and guess who I happen to spot at the beach?” As though it isn’t already obvious who he’s talking about, he gives me a pointed glance.
Mom looks at me and I can see her physically fighting back a sigh. “I told you not to leave,” she mumbles.
Dave ignores her and goes on with his story. “So I think, Hey, he’s grounded, and I head over there to ask him what he’s playing at, and he’s sitting around some table with these guys who looked ten years older than him, and I stood there and WATCHED him toss ten-, twenty-, fifty-dollar bills onto this table,” Dave tells her, and it’s only then that I actually wonder how long he had been watching me for.
“Tyler,” Mom says, and I look at her. There’s that look of disappointment on her face again that I hate so much. It’s even worse when she doesn’t say anything. Her silence always speaks louder than words.
“This is bullshit,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Shut the hell up,” Dave orders, and I’m surprised he says this in front of Mom. He and I both know it makes her uncomfortable when he says shit like that to me. He loosens his tie, then rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and presses his hands to his hips. “So I’m standing right there watching him gamble and throw away cash, and guess what happened when he lost the bet?” He hesitates for a second, probably for dramatic effect to make it all sound even worse. “He started swinging.”
“That asshole was cheating,” I lie. Only about the cheating part, though. Warren is an asshole, and I feel aggravated just thinking about his words again. I lean back against the countertop to stabilize myself and I add, “I wasn’t gonna let him get away with it.”
Dave gets up in my face again, and if Mom wasn’t here, I definitely would be hitting him too. “Do you want to get arrested for assault? Spend your life in juvenile hall? Is that what you want?”
“Tyler, you have to stop all of this,” Mom says quietly, and the soft pleading in her voice makes me feel like hell. She finally releases that sigh she’s been holding, and it just sounds . . . sad. “I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
I don’t want to get into trouble either, I want to tell her, but I can’t find the words. How do I tell her I’m only doing all of this because I don’t know anything different? Because trouble is all my life has ever revolved around? Because I’m just trying my best to get by?
“This isn’t Las Vegas,” Dave huffs, drawing my attention back. He is even closer to me now and I can see the anger in his eyes, but I’ll never understand it. I’m not his son. I’m nothing to him. “What the hell were you playing at?”
I stare evenly back into his eyes, my expression stoic. “Live a little.”
“I’m done with you,” Dave says, and he finally retreats from me, hands thrown up as though he’s giving up. He shoots Mom a look as he shakes his head, then he disappears outside into the backyard.
Amazing. I wonder how long it will be before he tries his hand at parenting me again. Probably not long at all. I have to laugh at him, though; after that last attempt it would be rude not to. I see Mom opening her mouth to say something, but I can’t bear to hear it. I also can’t bear the smell of those damn steaks that are cooking behind her. They smell burned by now, and I don’t even think she’s realized.
I turn around, unable to look at her, and walk out of the kitchen. I have no idea what time I’m supposed to be heading out to meet Tiffani and the rest of the crew tonight, but I refuse to stick around here, so I decide to leave early. I have my eye on the front door, my hand already reaching into my pocket for my car keys, when lo and behold, I spot her again.
There Eden is, standing in the corner of the hall with her back pressed against the wall. She stares at me, frozen, and even though I’m wondering what the hell she’s doing, I’ve remembered something. “I’ve gotta give you a ride, right?”
Eden hesitates for a while, looking uncomfortable yet again. Am I really that intimidating? “I think so,” she finally mumbles. She still doesn’t look all that keen, but her uncertainty is sort of cute.
“I’m leaving right now,” I tell her, “so either come or stay here.” I’m not waiting around any longer, and certainly not while Eden makes up her mind, so I turn back around again and continue toward the front door.
“Tyler! Please don’t leave again!” I hear Mom’s voice bounce from the kitchen, but even though I can hear how hurt she is, I can’t bring myself to stay.
I keep on walking, my head down, out the front door and across the lawn. At first, I assume Eden isn’t coming, but then I hear the front door open again behind me, and a husky voice calls out, “Wait up!”
And, honestly, I’m glad to hear it.