“Wake up. Cadey, wake up.”
Someone is bouncing on my bed and if they don’t stop in the next five seconds, I’m going to karate kick them into the next bedroom.
“Cadey!”
“Urg, go away,” I mutter unintelligibly.
The weekend is the only time I’ve got to sleep in, and I’m exhausted. It didn’t help that I couldn’t fall asleep until two a.m. this the morning.
Jarod Cross’s accusations kept running circles through my head.
Dutch? A drug dealer?
It’s so far out of left field I could laugh, but the more I think about it, the less ridiculous it sounds.
He’s frightening enough to pull it off. None of the teachers would tell him anything, even if they caught him red-handed. He’s cold and careless. He doesn’t give a damn about the people he’s hurting in the process.
But, for all his brutality, I thought he had lines he wouldn’t cross.
Was I wrong? Did I let my guard down, let my sister around the type of man I hate the most?
“Cadey!”
I moan and fling an arm over my face to keep the sunlight from scraping past my eyelids. The golden light is barging in anyway, making my head hurt.
Viola shakes my shoulders. “If you don’t get up now, I’ll start singing.”
“Don’t!” I shoot to a sitting position.
Viola laughs, pretty brown eyes glinting. It’s my first time seeing her smile that wide since mom came back. Immediately, the exhaustion clears from my body.
I smile back. “Why are you in such a good mood?”
“Because it’s finally Saturday. The weekend took forever to get here.” She sits on the edge of my bed and the mattress bounces with her weight.
“Saturday is cleaning day.” I rub my eyes.
“Come on, Cadey.” She pushes out her bottom lip and takes my hand. Swinging it back and forth, she coaxes, “Can’t we go out and do something fun today?”
A yawn cracks my jaw and makes my words mush together. “With what money?”
“I have some money.”
My eyebrows jump.
“Natasha Bombarch threw a party, so I got a few more makeup gigs than usual.” Viola raises both hands in a placating motion. “I saved one-third of the money like you told me, but there’s enough left over to do something fun.”
“Why don’t you go and do something fun with your own friends?”
“Because I want to do something with you.” She goes still and pulls her knees up to her chest. “Ever since mom came back, it feels like I’m living in a different world.”
My heart tugs guiltily. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” She sighs. “I’m the one who’s sorry. You were right about everything. I don’t think I could have lived with those secrets mom forced you to keep.” Viola looks contemplative. “I think I forgot what she was like. Or maybe I wanted her to be different this time? But nothing’s changed. She came back to us for a day, probably to steal something, and we haven’t seen her again. It’s been almost three days and she hasn’t even called.”
My eyes fall to the mattress. I tug at one of the threads that came undone.
“I was wrong about mom, but I still don’t think you should do everything on your own. I really do want to help.” Viola shuffles toward me. “Not just today. With everything.”
“Why don’t you help by letting me sleep, missy?” I tap her nose.
“I’m serious, Cadey. I can do more to pitch in. That video I posted with The Kings is going viral. I qualify for monetization now. That means I’ll get paid for views in the future.”
“That’s great, Vi.” I feel awful for not noticing that her channel was improving. My life has been such a tornado of setbacks that, in the chaos, my sister got left behind.
I lift my chin. “You know what? You’re right. Just because mom disappeared and our lives are in this weird limbo, it doesn’t mean we should stop living.”
Viola brightens. “You’re coming with me?”
“Sure. Just let me get dressed.”
Viola pumps a fist, looking way too excited for, what will probably be, a one hour trip to the bowling alley and maybe some fried onion rings. But if she’s happy, so am I.
After my shower, I feel a little brighter.
“I’m ready,” I say, sliding my purse over my head and stepping into the living room.
My sister pulls a disgusted face. “Cadey, what are you wearing?”
“My bowling outfit,” I say, pointing to my oversized T-shirt, jeans and scuffed sneakers. “It’s comfortable.”
Viola’s eyes look panicked. “I don’t want comfortable! I said ‘cozy chic’!”
“This is cozy.” I tug on the large grey sleeve. At her horrified response, I get a little sheepish. “Isn’t it?”
“Come with me.” Viola grabs my hand and marches into her room.
After tossing almost twenty dresses on the bed, she finally decides on a short, flowy dress with flower patterns. “Here. Pair it with this jacket.” She slaps a cream-colored jean jacket at me. “It’ll be super cute.”
“Isn’t this a little much for—”
“Wear. It!”
“Okay. Okay. Calm down.” I scrunch my nose at her. Her intensity is starting to remind me of Dutch. Maybe I shouldn’t let her hang around The Kings anymore. She’s getting pushy.
“This way.” Viola motions to me.
I frown at her. “What are you doing?”
“Your makeup?”
“Vi, don’t bother. I’m not like you. Putting on makeup isn’t fun for me.”
“You put on makeup to play piano.”
“It’s just a way to deal with my stage fright. We’re going to hang out today. There’s no need to dress up.”
“You should get dressed up now and again. Just for yourself,” she says with a resolute nod.
“I don’t—”
“Blah, blah, blah. You’re boring. I get it. Now, sit.”
I want to resist, but I tell myself that this is her day. If putting makeup on my face just to go bowling delights her, I’m not going to complain.
After Vi’s through with me, I pick up a mirror and check my reflection. “Wow. It looks like me but… glossy.”
“Of course. It’s your face.” She raises her chin. “I kept it light and natural today. I call this the ‘dewy’ classic. It makes you look like an angel.”
“I really like it. Vi, I’m so impressed. You’ve really improved.”
“Thank you.” She curtsies.
There’s a knock on the door.
Vi squeals and grins. “He’s early.”
“Who’s early?” My stomach clenches. Even though I haven’t seen him, I already have an idea of who’s standing outside that door. “Viola.” Her name escapes like a warning.
My sister winks at me, dances out of the room and throws the front door wide open.
Dutch appears, lined in light. Despite all the sunshine, shadows still surround him. I slide my eyes over his messy blond hair, the leather jacket hiding the tattoos just beneath, the designer jeans and sneakers.
“Let’s go.” Vi grabs my arm and tries to tug me.
My legs remain rooted to the floor. I tossed and turned all night, reliving our moments together over and over. Wondering if the scraps of humanity I saw beneath Dutch’s monstrosity was all made up in my head. Wondering if I’d opened myself up to the type of person I despise with all my breath.
Money. Power. Now drugs? A tangled web I don’t want to get caught up in.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is sharp. Cold.
Dutch’s expression remains the same except for a near imperceptible flick of his eyebrows. He didn’t expect this level of animosity. What the hell did he expect? That I’d accept him with open arms if he manipulated my sister into doing his bidding?
“Cadey,” Vi pulls at my arm, “I already promised Dutch we’d hang out with him today.”
“Why would you promise him that?”
“I asked for a favor.” Dutch glances over me, some of his blonde hair falling into his eyes. He pushes it back with strong fingers.
He’s a drug dealer.
“Please?” Vi pouts.
A drug dealer.
My heart pounds. Would a father lie about his own son? Isn’t there some truth to the accusation?
“Don’t you have something better to do with your Saturday than hang out with us?” I ask, and Dutch gives me this look with those amber eyes of his.
I’ve never seen it before.
I honestly don’t know how to interpret it.
“There is nothing in this world I’d rather do than spend today with you,” he says. And then he straightens and seems to remember we’re not alone. “And Vi.”
Viola snorts. “Nice save.”
I remain frozen, hesitating. Torn. If it were just me, I could take the chance. But it involves Vi. If my sister gets more embroiled with these guys…
“Come on!” Viola jumps behind me and shoves me forward, dragging me to the door. “You’re going to have fun today even if it kills me, Cadey!”
I shudder at the declaration.
If Jarod Cross is to be believed, hanging around Dutch just might kill us both.
