Page 39 of The Other Half

“I’m Oakley Matthews’ father.” He continues without waiting for me to respond, “I know you were out with my daughter last night. I’m here to tell you to stay away from her,” he grits out in an icy tone.

“Excuse me? With all due respect, sir, you do not need to be addressing my son this way. I will handle this.” My mom butts in, and she doesn’t sound ‘respectful’ at all. I don’t blame her, this dude is a total dick. How Oakley could be related to him I haven’t a clue.

“Are you aware that your son was out with my daughter last night, ma’am? She snuck out without our permission. We thought she was missing, or dead in a ditch somewhere.” His voice is growing louder with each word, “Oakley is a good kid, she’s never done anything like this before she met your son.” He points at me and levels me with a cold glare. “We’ve never had to call the cops for any reason until your son was involved. Whatever their relationship might be, it ends now.”

My mom’s mouth hangs open like she’s unsure of what to say next, she turns her head slightly towards me, “Oliver, is that true?” she asks dejectedly.

I don’t answer.

She turns slightly back to the man. Oakley’s dad, I mean. I can’t believe they’re related, they look nothing alike.

“Sir, I will handle this, rest assured your daughter won’t be getting into any more trouble.”

“Well, I hope not. She’s got too much to lose by spending time with bad influences,” he says as he takes a final glance at me from the side of his eye. He turns around and starts back towards the white BMW parked in our driveway. I knew her dad was a total dick, but this is beyond what I had imagined. He has an exceptionally punchable face.

My mom softly shuts the door behind him and spins around to face me. “Since when are you sneaking around with Dan Matthews’s daughter, Oliver? Have you lost your damn mind?”

Dan Matthews?… As in, the football player?

Holy shit, I’m dating Dan Matthews’ daughter and I had no fucking clue. So that’s why his face was so familiar. Somehow I never made the connection with their last names.

“Are you going to answer me or just stand there like an idiot?” My mom yells, throwing her hands into the air wildly.

“What? I-I had no idea who her dad was.” I respond, still willing my brain to catch up.

“The guy owns half of this town, Oliver. He was one of our bosses for Christ’s sake. And here you are, sneaking out, getting the cops called on you, hanging out with his little whore of a daughter–”

“What the fuck, mom? She isn’t a whore, you don’t even fucking know her!” I yell. Wait, what did she say? Boss?

My mom looks completely uninterested in debating with me. “I couldn’t care less what she is. Stay away from her, Oliver. This family sure as hell doesn’t need the type of trouble a man like that could cause.”

“He was your boss? When?” I ask, lowering my voice back to its usual volume.

She rolls her eyes like she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “He works for the mill. He’s the CEO, or CFO, hell if I know. One of the fucking fat cats. He could fire your brother tomorrow if he wanted to. Is that what you want?”

Suddenly the room is melting around me. He works for the mill? And Oakley never even bothered to tell me? I feel my chest burn with betrayal. Why would she hide that from me?

Chapter 33

Oakley

“OAKLEY!” I hear my father’s deep vibrato yell from the bottom of the stairs and it shakes me to the core.

I slide off of my bed, my arms shaking nervously, and creep out of my room. I pad over to the balcony that overlooks the foyer, hanging my head, “Yes, Dad?” I say just loud enough for him to hear.

“Get your ass down here. I’m not going to stand here and wait all day.”

I step down the stairs slowly, my heartbeat throbbing in my ears. My mom must be out, or else she’d be here next to him, probably pleading with him to calm down.

“I paid your little friend a visit,” he says, smirking evilly. “He won’t be bothering you or this family again.”

I can smell the strong scent of alcohol wafting off of him from a yard away. “What? What are you talking about?”

“The McLeod boy,” he clarifies, “I found his house.”

“Why? He didn’t do anything!” I say, raising my voice slightly but not quite yelling. My dad grips my arm tightly enough to leave a bruise. I wince and snap my mouth shut.

“You will NOT see him again, Oakley. He’s trash. Do you know where he lives? In a fucking trailer on the hill. What are you doing spending time with that piece of shit anyway?” He spits with a look of utter disgust on his face. “You’re not permitted to spend time with him, or anyone else like him. He’s nothing. I can see now that we’ve been way too lenient with you.”

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