Page 60 of Invisible String
I hesitate for a moment at the foot of the porch, wondering if I should knock and assure her father I would never harm Rainey. I wait and listen a little longer.
His words, “he’s homeless and jobless,” echo in my mind, pulling me back to the times when my father said I was a fucking nothing. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not good enough for her. I’ve always known that deep down, yet here we are, and she’s in love with me. I’m torn, unsure of what to say about this unexpected turn. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this; she wasn’t supposed to fall for someone like me. Maybe she’s just saying that to her dad to piss him off. Regardless, I’m grateful for her defending me. No one ever has. I step back and make my way back to the house. It’s not my place to intervene. I will only if she wants me to.
In the meantime, I open the jewelry box with a pair of earrings I bought for Rainey. I’ve never bought a woman agift. Jewelry seems like the way to go. It’s nothing expensive, probably the cheapest earrings she’ll have in her jewelry box.
As I hold them up, the delicate silver angel wings shimmer in the light. Suddenly, there is a loud knock on the door, breaking my concentration. It must be Rainey. In a panic, I quickly stuff the box back in its bag and hide it in the pantry.
I didn’t expect to find Rainey’s dad standing at the door. “Max?” His eyebrows rise, and he surveys me.
“Yes,” I say in a sharper tone than intended.
“Can I come in?”
I step back and gesture for him to come in. His gaze goes throughout the house. “I’m guessing Mike let you stay here? I know his parents. I spoke to them when they bought this place. On the other hand, my daughter knows nothing of the owners.” He stands, arms crossed to his chest. His aura reeks of chauvinism and power because he is an attorney. Conceited much.
The old bastard doesn’t intimidate me. I answer him, shoulders squared, chin up. “What is it you need? I know you’re not here to speak of the Owens.”
He lifts the receipt from the counter. “Thirty dollars for a pair of earrings? Rainey is used to expensive jewelry.” Rowan turns to me, displeasure written all over his face. He doesn’t stop there. He adds, “You know very damn well you can’t see her. If this was a coincidence, then let it be a summer fling.” His gaze scrutinizes me from head to toe. “You’re a boxer. You must think you’re going to go big. But you’re not. You come from nothing.”
“I know where I fucking come from, asshole. You don’t need to remind me,” I bellow, my voice rising. The gates of hell can hear me.
“You’re going back to Vegas, aren’t you? Rainey has school. She has a career to pursue. You’ll ruin her. You have nothing tooffer her, not even a home.” A grimace of rage paints his face. “You two”—he holds two fingers up—“are forbidden.”
My heart bulges with fury. I know I have shit to my name, but to hear it fucking hurts. I know what he’s doing, and it’s working. He takes out his wallet from his back pocket. “You can’t be near her. You know very well you are a distraction to her. You will hurt her more than help. You’re a trigger.” He hands me a check. “Ten thousand dollars to get you situated back in Vegas. Stay away from my daughter.”
Red is all I see. If he wasn’t Rainey’s father, I’d beat his ass to the ground. I toss the check to the floor. My fists curl to the side. “I don’t want your damn money. I know I don’t have shit to show for?—”
“Then you know she doesn’t need a deadbeat. Did you expect to start a relationship with her and one where she’ll never know the truth that you’re an orphan who’s lived home to home? You never got adopted for a reason.” His lips twitch. “I know more about you than you think.” I know he does. He’s an attorney with resources. He opens his wallet and tosses cash on the counter. He adds. “Take the cash—gas money.”
Anger like no other burst through me.A la chingada. My veins are visible under the skin. Go to hell. “Like I said, I. Don’t. Need. Your. Damn money.” I take two steps closer to him. “I may be broke now, but mark my words. You’ll be eating out of my hands. I care for Rainey. I’m not just a poor fucker taking advantage of her.” I’m grateful that Rainey looks nothing like her father.
He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “I’ll be eating at the palm of your hand?” He laughs. “I highly doubt that.” He picks up the check off the floor and sets it on the counter. “If you truly care for her like you say you do, Max, then do what’s best for her. You know precisely what I’m talking about.” He taps thecounter. “She can never find out. It would destroy her.” He shuts the door behind him, leaving me in complete rage.
I take the three beers I have left in the empty fridge, get in my car, and drive to the hilltop.
In the cluttered glove compartment, I pull out a crinkled joint I had stashed when Rainey and I came up here. As I light it up and inhale deeply, the sound of thunder echoes above my car. The rain pounds against the windshield, distorting my vision. I take another hit and wait for the relaxation to wash over me, hoping it will calm my nerves on this dark and stormy night.
I take a swig of the beer, the acid coats my throat with a fizzle. Adjusting the seat, I push it back to recline while taking a drag. Smoke fills the car, fogging the windows.
Rowan Collins words fester in my mind.You never got adopted.Did I ever hope a loving family would want me? Yeah, all the time, but when I reached my teens, it all changed. I still remember the first time I stepped foot in my first foster family home. I thought I’d left that kind of pain behind. Boy, was I wrong. It was only the beginning.
The social worker hands me my bags to carry up the stairs. I can barely carrythem, as I’m only nine years old. The two-story home is a little old—not as new as I thought it would be. There are no trees or flowers here, even though my mom loved flowers. We had to drive to Reno for this home.
“It’s going to be okay, Max. This family is lovely,” she assures me. My hands are sweating, and I grip the bags, and my stomach feels like I have rocks in it. I’ve never been away from home.
A woman my mom’s age opens the door. Her black hair is in a bun, and she has pink lipstick.Shesmiles wide, but she doesn’t give me a good feeling in my tummy.
“Hi, Anna. Is this Max?” the woman asks the case worker.
“Yes, this is sweet little Max.” She gives me a gentle push to go inside.
The house smells like cleaners and smoke. The walls are a cream color, and there are no family photos. My mom had so many pictures of our family. She wanted to have more kids so I could have a baby brother or sister.
The woman kneels close to me. “Max, I’m happy you’re in my home. We are going to have so much fun. The kids are out in the back, but first, let me show you your room.” She smiles and adds, “I’m Lisa.” She reaches for my hand.
I follow behind, watching Mrs. Anna. She gives me a nod. So, I keep following.
The room is small, with only two twin beds and a few toys. Like a remote-control car and some Hot Wheels. From the bedroom window, I see two boys playing—one who seems to be my age and one older.
