Page 16 of Devious Gambit

“I mean, I don’t want to date anyone right now,” I told her.

“But you just said you’re ‘sort of’ seeing someone.” Dumb move.

“True. But I meant I don’t want to commit to anyone.”

“You want to sleep around is that it?” she asked, suddenly looking embarrassed.

“Okay. Yes. There you have it. Sow my wild oats.”

She grabbed her sweater in a huff, and threw it over her head and chest, while I watched, because I’m still a hot blooded male perv. “Here I am baring my soul to you and you don’t want me.” She started to cry. Great, just what I needed.

“It’s not that simple. I have a lot on and you want something I can’t give you.”

“Which is?” she hissed, climbing out of bed to put her sweats and sneakers on.

“Commitment.”

“That’s fine,” she stated, storming to the door. “I’ll wait in Cody’s bed.”

“Fine,” I grunted, not feeling an ounce of jealousy or guilt, which told me everything I needed to know. Cody would fuck her and toss her out, as soon as he was done. Then he’d call one of many chicks in his contacts to invite them over, and do the same thing all over again. The most screwed up thing about all of this is that the chicks knew what we were like, yet we had an endless supply of them. Chicks eager to be fucked by a Hawk, hoping one of them would steal our hearts. Nah. Not me. Not Cody.

After she left, I tipped my drawers upside-down hunting for my black balaclava. I bought it as part of a prank I pulled on Cody back when he had a sense of humor.

Twenty minutes later, I’d tipped every item in my drawers onto my bed and I still couldn’t find the balaclava. I scratched my head, trying to think if I lent it to someone. Shit. It was starting to come back to me. Liam Greene. He asked to borrow it for a skiing trip a few months back. I’ve known Liam Greene and Adam Sweeney for over a year now and there’s two things I can say about them. 1. They’re both damn good football players. 2. They’re both creepy, sadistic, fucked up liars.

Once Cody and I figured that out, we started distancing ourselves away from them in our social lives. We just couldn’t rid them from the Vault and the Hawks. Not yet anyway.

SEVEN

Rhys

As soon as I arrived home from work, I rang Patty to thank her for the shoebox. She didn’t answer the phone, so I sent a text message. She replied over an hour later asking if I’d seen the letter in the bottom of the box. No, I hadn’t. I tipped the bags of cookies out onto the kitchen bench to find a blank envelope with my name handwritten on it. I was sure it was Patty’s writing and wondered if it contained a gift voucher. I was very wrong.

Inside the blank envelope was a second envelope with my name and Patty’s address handwritten on the front. This wasn’t unusual since I lived with Patty at this address for over two years. What was unusual was that the stamp read Minnesota Correctional Facility – Stillwater.

I opened it precariously, just as another message came through on my phone.

Patty: Ring me if you need to talk.

“About what?” I said to no one.

I carefully tore the back off and found a slip of folded lined paper inside. When I unfolded it, a sea of unfamiliar, spidery handwriting danced across the paper. I wasn’t sure what I was looking at, but proceeded to read the first line.

Rhys,

If you ever read my letters, you’d know writing to you is my therapy. A tiny escape from where I currently dwell, so even though you never reply, I continue to write. I thought I’d send this letter to your Aunt Patty’s house instead to your mom, just to see if you’d get it. You’ll be getting older now. Coming up 19 I believe…

At this point, I was so confused that I stopped reading and flipped the leaf over to see who this peculiar letter was from.

Love

Dad

“Love, Dad? Dad?”

My legs gave way and I landed on the bed and started from the beginning again. After reading the letter, it still wasn’t quite sinking in. Dad.

I rang Patty. Maybe she could shed some light in this mystery.

---