Page 8 of Bound by Desire
“Nice to talk to you, too, asshole.” I hear her moving on the other end, like she’s rolling on a bed or something. Then another huff comes overtheline.
Not that I intend on being a dick, it’s just who I am now. She knows this. Sheacceptsit.
“Talk, Emery.” When the coffee pot beeps, I pour myself a cup, then sit on the bench at my smalltable.
“I’m dropping out of school,” she lays out on me like a bombexploding.
She’s too damn smart to just give up. And one thing Emery isn’t is a quitter. She doesn’t give up on shit easily. Hell, as many times as our conversations ended up only being a few words, she still puts up with my ass. There’s no way that after our parents forced it down her that she was going to college she’d just drop out. She’s never been one to disappoint our parents. Nothing about this is in Emery’s usual nature. There must be something elsegoingon.
Time to get to the truth of the matter. “The fuck you are. What’s theproblem?”
“Wow, you can actually speak sentences. Good job.” She’s always been a smartass. It shouldn’t make me happy to hear it, but it does. Even under these circumstances, she reminds me at times that I do give a shit. At least with what happens inherlife.
“Emery …” I warn, a billion and one things going through my head. Is she hurt? I’ll gut the bastards. Is she pregnant? Again, I’ll gut thebastard.
“Fine. I suck at this. The classes are super hard, and I’m getting bad grades in two of the classes.” She sighs between her rambling. “Mom and Dad are going to flip their shit when they find out. I just don’t think this isforme.”
I’m sure her classes are hard compared to high school, but she can hack it. She’s been on the honor roll more times than I remember. Besides, everything in life is hard; it’s what you do with it that matters. Choices are hard, and this one doesn’t need toberash.
I playiteasy.
“Alright.”
“Alright? Did you really just sayalrightto me, Deacon Alexander?” she yells into the line, shocked by my answer. Good, that’s what I wasaimingfor.
“Yeah, you wanna quit and be a quitter, that’s on yourshoulders.”
“Quitter? I am not a quitter!” she shouts across the line, and I try not to chuckle. She’stooeasy.
“Yep, givin’ up your first year without givin’ it a shot. So, what now? You’re goin’ home? You gonna work atX,too?”
X is a strip club the Ravage MC owns. My aunt Princess runs the place, but there is no way in hell she’d hire Emery. Still, I need to get a rise outofher.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Something crashes on the other side oftheline.
One thing that runs in our family is our temper. My father has a hell of a one. Me, I take mine out in the cage. Emery, she hasn’t exactly figured out her way yet. Except for throwing things, that is. Even after four years, she’s stillthesame.
“But you’re quittin’ school.” The statement is meant to be harsh, and she obviously takes itthatway.
“What, like you quitting the family?” she charges back, giving it to me tenfold. Not much hits me or gets me down anymore. Those words, though, strike adirecthit.
“Didn’t quit …” My words trail off because, in a way, I did, not that I had a fuck of a lot ofchoice.
“Coulda fooled me. You haven’t even been back for Christmas. Christmas, Deke? I mean,really?”
Setting my cup down on the table, I rest my elbows on it, looking down at the chipped wood. Darkness fills me. It eats at me and claws its way to the surface. I try to push it down, but it does no good. Instead, itfesters.
Emery has no fucking clue. None. She has no goddamned idea what I gave up for her, our parents, and the fucking MC that I was never good enough to be a part of. Every damn want I had in my life, I tossed to the side … for them. Fuck, I shouldn’t even care anymore, but when she says shit like that, itcutsdeep.
Instead of continuing the path of this conversation, I change it. “So, you quittin’ schoolorwhat?”
“Like you give a shit,” she grumbles, and Iloseit.
They can all think what the fuck they want about me, but not her. Anyone can say I’m a bastard, a dick, or a fuckwad, but for my sister to question my concern, my care, or my fucking loyalty … it’s a time bomb abouttoblow.
“Yeah, I do give a fuckin’ shit! You’re too goddamned smart to drop out. You keep your ass there, get that fucking piece of paper, and make something of your damn self, Emery. You don’t need Mom, Dad, me, or that club. You can do it all yourfuckin’self.”
She sniffles over the phone. Fuck, I hate when I make her cry, but she needs someone to knock some damn senseintoher.
