Page 12 of Protecting Tiffani

“No,” I say with more force. I pick up the money and toss it in his lap. “I won’t take your money. I love your daughter and plan to marry her.”

“Yes, I read that lovely little detail. You will not marry her, son. If you don’t take the money to save you, she will. My daughter loves the finer things in life, and she will drop you like the trash you are when I offer it to her.”

My head violently shakes, “You’re wrong, sir. She loves me.”

“Boy, neither of you knows what fucking love is. Unlike your sad excuse for parents, we don’t believe in Tiffani marrying young like they let your sister. If she refuses, like you are now, she will leave me with no choice but to cut her off. Without my support, she will never make it in the real world. Also, she can kiss a college degree goodbye. God knows what she will have to resort to in order to keep up with the lifestyle she is accustomed to.” Shock at what he’s suggesting makes me involuntarily lean back. Rage takes over. How can a father sit here and talk about destroying his daughter’s hope for a better future? Tiffani is so excited about college. How could he take that away from her?

He sighs, “Now, back to the matter at hand. I guess I have a phone call to make.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and hits a button. The sound of the line ringing fills the car.

“Good afternoon, Carl. I assume the talk with young Mr. Hill didn’t go as planned. Do I need to file the papers to start on a warrant for his arrest?” The voice of the chief of police comes through the speakers.

Fuck me, he was serious. I’m going to go to fucking jail. What is this going to do to my family? Dad’s health is declining, and this is going to cause him to have another heart attack. What if this one kills him? Can I really risk that? What about the money for the lawyer? Mr. Summers has enough money to afford the best, but we don’t. We can barely afford to keep the lights on as it is now. No, I have to do something. I can’t let this happen. All his threats toward my family and Tiffani mean more now that I see he’s willing to make good on them. I can’t destroy all their lives for me. What kind of person would that make me?

“I’ll do it,” I whisper. Those words taste like poison, and they kill everything inside me.

The phone cuts off instantly, “Smart boy,” he says, holding out the money again.

I don’t move to take it. “I don’t want your money. But I will stay away from her. On two conditions, One, you leave her the fuck alone, and two, you stay the fuck away from my family,” I spit at him, letting my anger and heartbreak coat my words.

“You make the breakup look believable. I don’t want her running off after you. You leave this town and never return,” he demands as he holds his hand out.

My heart shatters into a million pieces, and I hate myself. But what other choice do I have? I place my hand in his and seal my fate with the fucking devil. Climbing out of his SUV, he wastes no time spinning tires and racing away from me. What the fuck have I just done? I crumble to the ground and sob loudly at the mess I just created. I don’t want to live a life without her, but I can’t let her own fucking father take her future from her. Not for me. I love her so fucking much, but I promised to protect her, and this is the only way I can.

I swipe at the snot streaming down my face using my dirty hands. Adam hasn’t said anything as I told him that night’s sick, twisted details. “You see, it wasn’t her fault. It will never be her fault. I was stupid and didn’t think about her not being eighteen. I ran because I had to. Adam, please believe me. I didn’t want to leave her or you guys. It was the hardest decision I had to make, but what could I have done? Please, Bubba… please don’t think any less of me,” I cry.

Adam throws his arm over me, pulling me into him. All his muscles are tensed, and his hands are shaking while they hold me close to him. “God damnit, Levi. How could I ever think less of you? You were just a child being threatened by someone abusing his power. You could have told us. We would have helped you fight him. Bubba, why didn’t you tell us?” His voice is thick with emotions which causes another round of tears to pour out of my eyes.

“How could I possibly tell you what was happening? I did what I thought was right, but all I did was destroy everything. You know Dad would have done everything to keep me from jail. He would come out of retirement and start working himself to the bone again. That would have killed him quicker, Adam, and I couldn’t do that to him. Want to know the worse part? Even after four years away, I’m still in love with her. She still owns me,” I sigh.

“Okay, here is what we are going to do. First, we are going to pull ourselves together. Second, we are going to finish this job. Thirdly, you are going to go fight for your girl, and lastly, we are going to make that mother fucker regret ever threatening a Hill.” I don’t say anything. I just nod into his chest. I don’t think I’m strong enough for the last two, but I can do the first two without a problem.

We head back to work, and I feel a little lighter now that I have shared what happened, but I can’t stop wondering if I could fight and get her back. God knows I want her back more than I want to breathe again.

Chapter eight

Tiffani

Thegravelmakingupthe driveway crunches beneath my feet, and the small-town cab I just stepped out of throws dirt into the air as the driver heads back to town. I usually come here on a Monday, but this week I can’t because a storm is moving in tonight and hanging around all day Sunday and Monday. This has been the wettest summer we have had in four years. Today is warm and muggy, so I pull my hair up into a small ponytail to stop it from sticking to my neck. It barely fits in the holder since I chopped it off two weeks ago. Pieces of it hang around my face.

Once my hair is secure, I continue up the little hill of the cemetery toward the biggest tree in the place. It doesn’t surprise me that Mr. Hill is buried under that tree. Emilee told me all about that spot being her safe place. My eyes sting with the tears that always come when I visit. At the top of the hill, I come to a complete stop. I expected to find the styrofoam to-go cup I left last week to still be here, like it is every week, but it’s gone. Someone has been up here and removed it. Anger rushes through me because that isn’t theirs to remove. It’s mine.

My hands shake, making me grip the cup in my hand tighter, and the styrofoam squeaks under the pressure. My anger at the situation slowly ebbs because if someone is cleaning up Mr. Hill’s resting place, that means it’s a loved one, and they probably just thought it was trash. Sitting the cup down, I lower myself next to the brown-colored stone and place my hand on it. “Good morning, Mr. Hill. I brought you coffee. Black with one sugar just like you like it.” Above his engraved name, a beautiful orange butterfly lands, flapping his colorful wings. Every time I visit, a butterfly sits on Mr. Hill’s tombstone, but it has to be a different one each time, right? It can’t be the same one. That would be too weird.

“I’m struggling this week, Mr. Hill. I told you about the rent increase, and it was due yesterday. What I’ve never told anyone is that even though I work seven days a week, twelve hour shifts Brad only pays me for thirty hours a week. I know it’s illegal and I could turn him in but then I’m left what; homeless and without a job. As if higher rent wasn’t bad enough now my portion of the electric bills keep getting higher and higher. Brad said the drawer was short multiple times for the last three weeks. I barely had enough to pay rent after three checks. I was hoping that this week’s check would allow me a little extra, but, sadly, that’s not the case. At least I have a place to stay for another month, but…” A sigh falls from my lips as a tear slips down my face. “No, No buts. I can do this. I’m strong and brave. I will be able to make it another week without food. I have a few items. That reminds me, I still haven’t found out who paid for the groceries I was short on three weeks ago. Nora refuses to tell me. I shouldn’t push, and just be grateful, but I can’t help it.

I know you already know this, but it looks likehe’sback now for good. I’ve seen him working on the school with Adam. Now that you’re gone, I guess it’s safe to tell you that I have found myself walking past there even when it’s out of my way. I still love him, even if that makes me pathetic, holding on to someone that has made it clear that I meant nothing.”

The longer I sit here spilling my worries and secrets, the better I feel. I would never utter one word of this to him if he was alive, but now I feel like I can be completely honest. Even though it’s a one-sided conversation. Once I’ve said all I need to say, I lean back against the tree and stare out into the empty space around us. I see why Emilee loved it up here. It’s very peaceful, and strangely enough, I do feel very safe. As I get comfortable, my eyelids grow heavy with exhaustion, and my stomach grumbles, but I push the pain to the back of my mind and fall asleep.

While I’m asleep an eagle lands on a branch, high up in the tree I’m leaning against, and the butterfly never leaves during my nap. I’d like to imagine they were keeping a watch out for danger. When the sound of a horn pulls me from my sleep, I place a kiss on my palm and then lay my hand on Mr. Hill’s name. “I’ll see you next week. Love you.” Walking down the hill to the cab waiting to take me back into town, my steps falter as the world spins around me. The eagle makes a low whistling noise and starts to circle the air above my head. The butterfly floats around my head as I open the door. What is going on with these two animals? Shutting the door, I close my eyes. The world is no longer spinning when I open them. Six more days, I can make it six more days.

I was wrong. I couldn’t make it six more days. Waking up the following morning, I have no energy. My body hurts even more, and there’s a constant pounding inside my skull. It takes all my effort to get out of bed and drag myself into the bathroom. The cold shower does wonders for waking me up, but I still feel sluggish, and my brain is foggy as shit. I can’t seem to concentrate on one thing. I’m starving to the point that the pain in my stomach is all I can think about. Walking into the kitchen, I note what I have left. One and a half sleeves of crackers, three pieces of stale bread because I left it out, some questionable leftover beans, and one can of soup. I grab three crackers and a glass of lukewarm water. I’m going to have to go check the giving box by the school and hope that someone has put something in there. I’m sure if I go to the local church and tell them how bad off I am, they will help, but my pride tells me I can’t do that. What if word gets back to my father or, worse, my mother? That will prove them right, and I can’t do that. I haven’t seen them since the day I walked out of their house.

Straightening my back, I steeled my spine. I’ve been on my own for four years without needing them, and I will die before I fucking risk them finding out they were right. I just need to find another job. I’ve been tossing around the idea of a second job for a while now. But with the hours I work here, on top of my online school, I would barely get any sleep if I worked two jobs. I can sleep when I’m dead, and college was already a stretch of my imagination.

The landry mat is quiet most of the morning, which gives me plenty of time to search the paper for local jobs. I take note of the ones within walking distance and use the phone in the office to call as many as possible. Mostly, they tell me the same thing; come in and fill out an application. I also sent an email to my advisor asking her to start the process of withdrawing me from all my classes this semester and the next one. I’ll have six months before my student loan payments start up. Hopefully, by then, I’ll be in a better place financially and can start classes again. I feel like I’m letting Mr. Hill down when I send the email, but I have to do what I have to in order to have a place to live and eat.

After a quick trip upstairs to refill the plastic water bottle I keep with me, I almost fall down the stairs from being so light-headed. I place my hand on the wall beside me, waiting for it to pass. The bell above the door jingles and a rush of people come in. They all shake off the water from the rain and start filling the washers. Within ten minutes, the place is packed, and I don’t have a minute to waste as my day goes from okay to a hot steaming pile of shit. My little energy is depleted within the hour, and I feel like someone ran me over with a big truck. The headache and the pain in my stomach and body have tripled. If I had the energy, I would be worried about everything, but I can’t even do that.

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