Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“It’s just a start. We’ll figure it out.” I turn away from her. I can’t keep doing this. Fucking hell, what is wrong with me? “Come on, I’ll have my driver take you home, and I’ll talk to him some more.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“We both lost our cool in there but I have a good relationship with him normally. It’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll smooth this over.”
She nods and doesn’t look like she believes me, but she lets me guide her down the steps and into a waiting car.
“What do we do next?” she asks.
“I’ll call you soon.” I glance back at the house. “Next step is move-in day.”
“Move-in day?” She sounds horrified.
“I told you, Kat. We’re going all the way.” I walk off before she can reply and the driver pulls out, taking her back home.
I head in through the front door. Grandpop’s waiting for me near the steps in the quiet of the foyer. He’s smiling and laughs as I trudge over and stand in front of him.
“That was one hell of an act,” he says, grinning, and slaps my arm happily. “How’d I do? Was I convincing?”
“You were fine.” I grind my jaw. “You really shouldn’t call her a whore though.”
His smile falters. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to feel sorry for the girl? Ford, she’s a Stockton. Who the fuck cares about her?”
“I didn’t say—” I clear my throat and gather myself. “I don’t like lying to her and we don’t need to be unnecessarily cruel about this.”
“If you can’t handle this then I’ll find someone that wants to do what it takes to lead our family.” Grandfather steps closer and his smirk is completely gone. In its place is the cold stare of the man that used to discipline me with a thin bamboo cane when I was a little boy. He’d switch my back bloody whenever I stepped out of line and I learned quickly that if I didn’t do as I was told, I’d end up bleeding and aching for days. I still have the faint scars to remind me what happens when I cross my family. “Are you backing out of our deal, Ford?”
“No, Grandpop.”
“Good. Use the girl. Get something for me and do it soon. Don’t get soft.” He turns and walks away.
I watch him go and a sick loathing surrounds my throat, but he’s right. If I want to lead this family, I need to prove that I can be strong.
I have to prove I can do whatever it takes.
Even if it means giving up what humanity I have left.
Chapter 10
Kat
Mom’s rehab clinic is in a small town a half-hour drive from Dallas. It’s a pretty building, a lot like a hotel from a distance, with high white walls all around the property to keep snooping locals away. There are pools, hiking trails, volleyball nets, even a softball field. I take the tour with the nice head doctor, and we end up sitting at a table outside under a big umbrella. “Your mother’s finishing up group right now,” the doctor says, glancing at her watch. “Any questions before I hand you over?”
“I was just wondering, you know, how she’s doing, and if maybe—” I stop myself and look away toward a group of people doing basic yoga led by a tall skinny guy with a ponytail. It’s hard to imagine that all of these people are addicts, but that’s the insidious thing about addiction—it touches everyone, every family, and nobody’s immune from it. Rich, poor, it doesn’t matter, addiction’s lurking out there ready to hijack our loved ones and steal them away.
This place looks like a vacation, but I did my research before coming out here—it’s considered the best rehab clinic in Texas.
Which is good because the best rehab clinics in Maryland, Pennsylvania, Ohio, California, and Washington all failed to straighten her out for long.
“I know this is difficult for you,” the doctor says, an older woman named Amy, “but your mother is doing great. It’s a process.”
“A very long process,” I say and meet her eye again. “This is the sixth clinic she’s been to. Six clinics over the last twenty years.”
“That’s not too bad,” she says with a smile. “I’ve met folks that have been to dozens.”
“Do any of them stay clean?”
She moves her head from side to side. “Some do, some don’t. We try to give our patients the tools they need to get away from their disease, but in the end, the choice is always with them.”
“I just want this to stick. That’s all.”
She pats my hand. “I can’t make any promises. All I can say is she’s following the rules, she’s participating, and she’s making good progress. Ah, and there she is now.”
The doctor stands as Mom approaches. She’s wearing gray sweats, a navy top, and a beige shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She smiles tentatively at me and I can tell she’s sober. I can see it in the way she’s really looking at me and actually seeing me, like she’s here in the room and not floating off somewhere else either stoned out of her mind or itching herself and waiting for her next chance to get high.