Thalia slides into the seat across from me in the library. She drums her fingers on the table, and I glance up at her with a frown. She doesn’t normally come to the library. Says it’s too quiet for her type of studying—and judging from the way she’s tapping, I’d agree.
She likes to move when she studies. I’ve seen her in action at our apartment, walking laps around our living room with a textbook in her hand, reading it aloud. Under her breath, sure, or sometimes in a strange accent.
I pull my earbud out. “Why do you look worried?”
She winces.
“Thalia.”
“Oh, um, well…”
I glare at her.
“There’s a rumor going around that you’re…” She grabs my hand. “I’m just going to spit it out and I don’t want you to freak out, right?”
“Right.” My mouth is dry, and I can’t help but think back to Steele’s visit last night. He promised to make me hate him, or whatever. Did he finally leak that photo?
“There’s a rumor that you are a sex worker,” she blurts out. “And I know that’s not true, but there’s a website—”
“A website?” I screech.
I glance around, garnering annoyed looks from other students. Libraries are not the best places for loud voices. They carry. But then Thalia slides her phone across the table to me, keeping her other hand on mine. Squeezing, as if that’s reassuring.
The website reads like a sex toy résumé, boasting about certain skills. And then there’s a photo of me. It’s not sexy, really. It’s been ripped right from my social media.
Then there’s the contact form.
“Someone said it goes to your student email,” she says in a low voice. “It’s been going around online all evening.”
“Fuck.” I pull back and go for my phone, opening my email app. It takes a minute to load, and then—
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
I shut off my email notifications, then drop it facedown. I cover my face. I feel more than see Thalia take my phone and scroll through the notifications, and her silence means that I’m well and truly fucked.
“These are disgusting,” she murmurs. “Some just sent dick pics, others are propositioning you. Who’s Cillian Monroe?”
I snatch the phone. It’s not an email—it’s a call.
My uncle.
I answer it and stand, motioning to Thalia that I’ll be back. I hurry toward the stacks, away from people, before I whisper, “Hello?”
“What sort of mess have you gotten yourself into, kid?” Uncle asks. His voice is low, ominous. “And why didn’t you call me?”
My jaw drops. “How—”
“I have eyes on campus.” He scoffs. “You don’t think I’d leave you unprotected? Your daddy—”
“I don’t want anything to do with him,” I interrupt. “So if you’re doing this because of him, I’m going to say thanks but no thanks.”
“My brother doesn’t know any of this,” Uncle growls. “He’s out of pocket for the near future, which is why he gave you the money.”
“Money?”
He sighs like I’m an absolute fucking idiot—and maybe I am.
“Did you open that package?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Is it…”
“Cash, darling. Think of it as a monster repaying his debts. But now there’s the matter at hand. You know prostituting is illegal. The website is being taken down as we speak. I’ve got someone going through your email, and they’ll delete—”
“No.” I shut my eyes.
“No?”
“I mean, thank you for taking down the website. But if you do any more, they’ll know… And there’s a risk. Dad doesn’t know where I am, does he? He asked you to get me the package, but we both know you don’t share information that’s not vital. If you had, he’d be on my doorstep.”
“At the library doorstep, you mean.”
A chill sweeps down my back, and I look around. Which seems fruitless, because I’m alone in the stacks. I can barely even see the tables in the center of the room.
He sighs. “No. I didn’t tell him, for the exact reasons you’ve described. And more that you haven’t, but we won’t get into those. What you need to know is that you’re safe from my side of the board, and I’m hearing what you’re saying. You’d like to deny the Monroe name altogether.”
When he puts it like that…
“You’re the only child who took our name,” he says suddenly. “Because your mother refused to put his name on their birth certificates. Even though you were all living together.”
Not married, though. I suppose that’s the one good decision Mom made. If she had married him, she would’ve been tied to him in so many more ways.
“Yeah.”
“So, when the Monroe family comes to collect, they care about you and you alone. You’re the one who shares our name.”
“If you care so much, why don’t you do anything about my father?” I grip my phone hard, and part of me thinks he might actually give me an answer. Part of me has hope that he’ll own up to everything Dad put me through as a kid.
It’s why we left, after all.
It’s why Mom is still running almost a decade later.
“The website is down,” he says instead. “I’ll leave your email to you. And dealing with the culprit.”
“Thanks,” I whisper. “I’ve got to go.”
“Stay safe, Asp.”
I tuck my phone in my pocket and head back to Thalia. I sink into my seat and watch her. She’s pulled out some books, giving the library a solid effort. But her lips are moving, what she’s reading just barely audible.
“We can go home,” I offer.
She nods quickly and flips the book shut. “Are you okay? Should we stock up on some ice cream on the way home?”
“I’m fine.” I don’t mention that the website is down. But part of me wants to go confront Steele. To make a big deal out of this.
That’s what he wants, though, isn’t it?
We make it almost all of the way home when my phone rings again. This time, it’s my mother. I pause on the sidewalk. “I’ll catch up.”
Thalia nods and continues on, while I glance around the quiet street. Then I swipe to answer it.
“Hey, baby,” Mom greets me. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.” My gaze stays on Thalia’s back. I slowly drift after her. “How’re you?”
“Oh, lovely. Lovely. Stephen is taking the girls and I to Spain!”
I stop in my tracks. “What? Why?”
She tuts. “Can’t you be happy for us?”
It’s like I can feel Mom’s pout through the phone. Sometimes I think I’m more of an adult than she is. I mean, only one of us would get a shotgun wedding in Vegas to a near-total stranger. Right?
“I… Yeah, no, that’s awesome. Are the girls around?”
She makes a noise in the back of her throat. “Dakota is in the back yard with Stephen. They’re discussing building a tree house or something.” Her voice shifts, getting louder as she calls to one of my sisters. “Lennox—your sister is on the phone. Yes, Aspen. Obviously. Okay, well, she wants to talk to you—”
“Hi,” my baby sister says into the phone. “I miss you.”
I smile. Lennox is joyful. Spirited. She’s twelve. And although she’s now at a new school, she’s the type to adapt quickly. It’s why she took to Stephen O’Brien so fast. Dakota is a bit like me. More reserved, slower to warm up. But the fact that she’s outside with him right now, having a conversation without my mother involved, is a good sign.
Isn’t it?
There’s a tiny piece of me that doesn’t want anyone to adjust or adapt, so we can go back to normal. But that’s unrealistic—and a little cruel, too.
“How are you, Len? I miss you more.”
I reach our brownstone and unlock the front door. Len chatters in my ear about school, her new friends. A lump forms in my throat, but I ignore it and make the occasional humming noise to keep her talking.
Thalia stands at the kitchen island, her gaze on a pile of money.
Like, more cash than I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
Hundred dollar bills wrapped in thousand dollar bundles stacked on top of each other. Some have spilled off, making more of a mound shape. And off to the side, the brown paper sack it came in with a piece of fabric piled on top of it.
“Holy shit.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
“Hey,” Len huffs. “You said a bad word.”
Uncle said there was money from Dad… I just assumed it would be a few hundred, maybe? I don’t know—I didn’t have any expectations.
Not a few thousand dollars. Or more.
“Sorry, Len,” I answer, finally. Once I’ve screwed my jaw back onto my face. “Can I call you back? Maybe tomorrow?”
“Sure. Love you, Aspy.”
There’s a click as the call disconnects, and I step up to the other side of the island.
“Where did this come from?” Thalia asks, her gaze lifting to me. “I shouldn’t have opened it, but I was curious. And then it opened and all the money…? Is this illegal?”
I have no fucking clue.
But actually, it probably is illegal. Blood money, drug money…
I count the stacks, and a laugh bubbles out of me. There are sixty. Sixty thousand dollars sitting on my counter. From my father. My stomach turns, and my vision flickers. I suddenly feel hot and clammy. I grip the counter with both hands, but I still go down, my knees buckling and hitting the floor.
I close my eyes for good measure. It’s better when I’m not looking at the cash.
“Aspen?”
“It’s a payoff,” I murmur.
Thalia comes around and kneels beside me. “What?”
“My dad’s done some fucked-up stuff in his life. I’d be willing to bet that this is just a way to get in again. It’s an apology, or something.” One I can’t stomach. I rise and grab the bag, shoving the money back into it. I’m going to put it in my closet and forget about it. I stuff the fabric into the bag, too, piling it on top. If anyone opens it, they’ll just see that.
Not that anyone is going to dig through my closet, probably…
Thalia follows me into my room. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. But I don’t really want to stay here.”
“Let’s go get drunk,” she offers.
I think on it. “That doesn’t actually sound like a terrible idea.”
She grins. I hide the bag up on the top shelf of my closet, and she flips through the hangers. I don’t object when she pulls one off and pushes it into my arms. When I hold it up, I mirror her grin.
If anything, it’ll cause a stir.
Which, at this rate, why the fuck not?
