Page 17 of Greased

After another greeting from the guards stood outside of the home, we pull up in front of what looks to be a six-car garage. I get out of the car and stare up at the house in awe. It’s not a damned house. This is a fucking mansion.

“Rhodes, you take Scar inside and show her around. Your Mum and I need to have a quick meeting with the council.”

He then looks at me and his eyes instantly soften. He places his hands on my arms.

“I’ve waited ten years for this moment. I am so happy to finally have you home, my beautiful girl. You are so precious to me and I’m so proud of you. I can’t wait to see you become the woman I know you were yearning to be when you were taken from us. My little fighter.”

I see the longing in him to wrap his arms around me. While his words pull at something deep inside of me, I’m not ready for that quite yet. He seems to be understanding of that fact, accepting the nod I give him as words fail me.

Since the massive bomb was dropped, I haven’t had a better chance to sit down and talk with him properly. There have been a few conversations here and there but I need something more.

We mainly spoke about the kidnapping and injuries. He told me all about the training that we used to do and what I will have to relearn now that we are home. To be honest, I’m actually looking forward to all of it.

A few years after my ‘accident’, I took a few sessions of mixed martial arts classes. But I wasn’t ready. Or my body wasn’t at least. But as I stretch my limbs out, I feel like I might actually be ready. Either that or now I don’t have much of a choice.

Rhodes takes me in through the massive garage and into the house. We come out into a beautiful big open planned kitchen and living area.

“Obviously this is the kitchen. There’s a big butler's pantry through there with basically every kind of snack you could possibly want. One of the older Pink Ladies helps around here with meals and cleaning.”

Rhodes takes me through the rest of the house. There is a massive movie room off the living area fit with recliners that look like literal clouds. He shows me what he calls a den, something I would just call a rumpus room.

Arcade games line one wall. A fully stocked bar, with alcohol I’ve never even heard of, sits full stocked in a corner of the room. A few bar tables are dotted around the front with a perfect view of the small stage off to the side. There’s a drum kit, guitars, a piano and microphones already set up like a band just finished playing.

“Wow. This is insane,” I murmur in awe at the space in front of me. I run my hand over the bar as I look around the room, seeming to find something new each time.

“We used to spend so much time down here when we were younger. A couple of the members’ kids around the same age as us would come over and we would just play music all day long. Not like I got a lick of talent, but I played band manager,” Rhodes replied with a laugh. His face starts to turn solemn as he looks around at all the gear.

“I guess it hasn’t really been used since you left,” he says, the mood turning sombre.

“Well, it will be now. I promise to play you live shows. Do those kids still play now?”

“Yeah, they do. They normally do a weekly show at Pinks’ Lounge. Tonight, they actually have one of the girl groups playing. Some nights they do an open mic night where, instead of a jukebox playing a backing track, they have one of the live bands playing.”

I nod my head as he continues, “They are actually the girls I was hoping you would get up and sing with. Rippy is currently their singer but it is obvious it’s not her calling.”

The thought of actually being able to get up on a stage and sing sends a spark of thrill through me now that I’ve had the chance to really mull it over. Being able to express myself through music is so freeing. After the chaos of these past few weeks, I feel like I have a fuck load to say and having a microphone in my hands might just be the perfect way to do that.

“Come on, I will show you upstairs and to your room.”

We head up the stairs to the second floor. Rhodes points to a few different rooms explaining what they are but not bothering to show me inside.

He opens the last door though and walks inside, pausing at the entrance.

“This is your room. It stayed as you left it for a few years. Around the time we turned sixteen, I just lost it. The grief just got too much, when I went on the bender, I came in here and just started ripping your things off the walls and tearing things off the shelves.”

Rhodes pauses as he looks around the room with a grimace. He turns back to look at me with so much sincerity in his eyes.

He turns away and walks over to one of the other doors in the room. He pulls out a small shoe box and hands it to me.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“That’s everything that I didn’t destroy. I’m sorry Scarlett.”

“It's okay Rhodes. I understand. You were angry and lost. In all honesty, it would have been a little weird coming back to eight-year-old me’s bedroom. I feel like it would have been an explosion of pink and unicorns.”

I laugh as a smile and reassurance begins to brighten Rhodes face back up.

“You would be pretty spot on there.”

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