Page 19 of You're the Reason

“I think I will stay in Mallory’s room tonight and drive back in the morning. I will have to come for the rest of my stuff this weekend.”

“I look forward to seeing you. And Grace, don’t forget to buy?—”

“Signs to advertise the class?”

“I was going to say a mop and bucket. It’s going to take a lot of cleaning to get that studio ready.”

Ugh. She hadn’t mopped a floor since she was sixteen, and she’d never taught a class in her life, but what she did know was that with hard work and enough determination, she could accomplish almost anything. Now she had to figure out how she was going to tell her parents that not only was she staying in Heritage for the summer to heal, she was not staying with them.

Two more interviews and two more nos. The temp agency had been optimistic that they could get Seth set up with a job on an assembly line, or there was always McDonald’s. The job and apartment that Jon had offered him five days ago flashed in his mind. But whether Jon could see it or not, it just wouldn’t work. Because the truth was, nobody wanted a former felon on their payroll or in their town even if he’d cleaned up his life, got a degree, and was a success on reality TV. At least according to Ninja Warrior. Thankfully, that was all they knew about him, because if the network dug very deep, they would find not just his criminal record but also his mother.

Seth signaled his blinker and took the exit toward his mom’s apartment. He passed a playground, but it was empty. Seemed wrong for a Saturday morning. The area didn’t look too bad. In fact, if he didn’t know the crime rate in Muskegon Heights, he’d say it didn’t look that much different than Heritage. But he knew better than anyone that crime often hid in plain sight.

Not that he wanted his mom back in Heritage. It might be safer for her, but he didn’t want to have to protect the town from her. If she still lived in Heritage, she might have tried to come to the baby shower. Not that family meant much to her, but all the unattended purses would have been a gold mine. Nope. The thirty-minute buffer was just about perfect.

A couple of young teens stood by an old building passing around a joint. Everything in him wanted to stop the car, but it wasn’t his place. And by the look of an older man not too far away, his efforts wouldn’t be welcomed. He was an outsider.

Little did they know he’d probably be right there with them had the felony not landed him at Quinn Ranch, where Grant had helped him see that a different version of himself was possible. A version where he went to college. A version where he could be strong. A version that recognized his need for God. He’d love to be able to help other kids the way Grant had helped him. He just didn’t know how. His mind flicked back to the property in Lansing that Jon had mentioned. The empty warehouse sounded like the perfect place to start his own ninja gym. But gyms needed startup money. And money and Seth had never been good friends.

His mom’s apartment building came into view. The pale blue, one-story building was in desperate need of new paint. All doors faced the parking lot, and if he had to guess, it was once an old motel. But other than the brass door numbers, nothing really confirmed that.

He pulled into a spot near his mom’s door, shoved his car into park, and grabbed his legal pad from the passenger seat. He uncapped the red marker and drew a thick red line across the two job leads. He eyed the last uncrossed name on the list without any real hope. JBL had been a long shot, and they were based out of California—talk about starting fresh.

He tossed the pad back on the seat, then lifted his phone and checked his bank balance. He needed a job. Soon.

If he didn’t find something, he was going to have to sell off his weights. And in his life, they were the only things he really had left.

He popped the door open and waited for a rat to scamper back to the dumpster before climbing out. There wasn’t anyone hanging around, but then it was a Saturday morning. Most of the tenants here were probably still sleeping off the night before.

He grabbed the two bags of groceries from his back seat and walked toward her door. Seth had just pulled out his keys when his mom’s landlord stepped into his path. Jack was a decent guy but wouldn’t win any prizes for friendliness. Or hygiene.

It wasn’t so much the need for a shave or shower as the stain of grease from a recent meal that covered his stomach. A worn-down cigarette hung from his mouth. He sucked in one more long breath from it, then dropped it at Seth’s feet. “I need rent today.”

The guy was no nonsense when it came to rent. He’d ignore anything he didn’t want to see as long as the rent was paid.

Seth shifted the groceries to the other arm.

“I left it with her last week.”

Jack seemed like a straight up guy. He had never tried to cheat Seth or his mom before. “I ain’t seen it, and that’s two months unpaid now.”

One check, his mom could have misplaced. Two? Maybe Jack wasn’t as honest as Seth had thought.

The suspicion must have shown on his face, because Jack ground the smoldering butt on the ground with the toe of his steel-toed boot and narrowed his eyes. “I’m telling you how it is. She never paid her rent last month, and I ain’t seen a dime this month.”

“I’m on my way there, I’ll make sure you have it before I leave.” With any luck, she’d just forgotten to give Jack the checks, and he’d find them buried under the mess she called a life.

Jack nodded and stepped back as he pulled out a fresh cigarette and lit it. “Most people I wouldn’t let walk out of my sight until things were square. But you seem like a stand-up kid. Not sure how you survived, let alone turned out all right with a mom like that, but I trust you. Don’t make me regret it. My buddies aren’t as nice as me.”

How had he survived? Because he’s been the one raising his mom, not the other way around. That, and because of Gabe. Ironic how the tables turned.

Seth made his way past the landlord to her door. He started to unlock it, but it just pushed open. A musty dank stench of garbage and stale alcohol hit him in the doorway. A lesser person might have gagged, but the smell was too familiar. Home sweet home.

He stepped into the dim room and immediately switched to breathing through his mouth. When he kicked the door shut, a moan lifted from the couch.

His mom lay face down on the old seventies couch, hair splayed across the orange-flowered cushion. She wore an old T-shirt that had once been Seth’s dad’s. A blanket covered her bottom half. The arm that hung off the side of the couch was skin and bone.

An empty bottle of vodka lay next to her on the floor, while a used syringe had been abandoned on the coffee table next to a lighter, a spoon, and an empty baggie. Awesome.

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