If my parents stopped paying, my entire life would be thrown into a blizzard of change and uncertainty.
Was I ready for that sort of chaos? I’d been through plenty in the last five months. Did I want to make things worse?
I looked at Christos. He rubbed my knee sympathetically.
“Answer your father, young lady,” Mom said viciously. “Do what we say, or pay your own way,” she chuckled at her own cleverness. She sounded like she was gloating. My mom was the biggest bitch I’d ever met, hands down.
“Don’t be flip, Linda,” my dad said with calm confidence. “Sam, all you have to do is change your major back to Accounting and explain to your landlord that your 30-day notice was a mistake, and all of this will go away.”
My Dad Satan was back to his usual tricks.
“Fine.” For the second time in my life, I hung up on my parents. The irrational fear that this was the last time I would ever talk to them suddenly seized me. “That went well,” I joked to Christos sarcastically. Agony hit me a second later and my heart snapped in half.
I threw myself into Christos’ arms and wailed. His arms wrapped protectively around me as he pulled me into his chest.
“It’s okay, agápi mou,” he murmured, “I’m here.”
I felt completely betrayed by my parents. For once, my life was going good. For once, my dreams were turning into reality. But, as always, my parents stridently objected to what I wanted. They were trying to manipulate me with bribes and threats. Was that parenting? Weren’t you supposed to trust at some point that your children would find their own way?
My parents didn’t.
No matter what I did, they fought me every step of the way. Why were they always the biggest obstacle I faced in my life?
I thanked fate for bringing Christos to me.
I sobbed in his arms.
“Oh, Christos, I don’t know what I’d do without you!”
Chapter 26
CHRISTOS
I held Samantha in my arms. “I’m so sorry, agápi mou,” I whispered.
She shook with tears and burrowed her face into my chest.
Samantha’s parents were truly insane. Did they not realize their life plan for their daughter was all wrong and was making her miserable? What kind of fucked up people were they?
My parents had never treated me like this. Not even close.
In a perfect world, I would’ve moved Samantha into my house this weekend, and told her I had plenty of cash to cover her living expenses and whatever tuition she had left over.
But I didn’t live in a perfect world.
In my world, I was going to trial on Friday. I could be in jail by Saturday. I wouldn’t be able to help her move in. And the money? Shit, after I finished paying Russell for defending my ass in court, I wasn’t going to have any money left.
That was my world.
“I’m so lucky, Christos,” Samantha wept, “I’d be freaking out right now if you weren’t here.”
I kissed the top of her head gently.
How was I going to tell her I might not be here in five days?
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let her down. Not right now. She was still reeling from her fucking parents.
I felt jitters in my feet. This always happened when shit hit the fan. I wanted to take action. Bust some heads. Knock shit over. Or, fuck, the opposite. Go build something. Throw up walls and nail shit together, bolt stuff down. But none of that would make a fucking difference. My trial date was barreling toward me and I was chained to the train tracks.
All I could do was wait.
Samantha clutched my shirt in her little fists and sobbed. “Oh, Christos…”
Fuck, I couldn’t do shit to help her.
I tried to calm myself. If I didn’t, I was going to missile through the ceiling. This was killing me. I needed to think this through. I needed to help Samantha somehow.
What were my real options?
On the plus side, I had my grandpa. I even had my dad. No, fuck that. I wasn’t calling my dad. But my grandpa would make sure Samantha got moved into the house no matter what. He would make sure Samantha had a roof and ate three squares every day. At least the basics were covered. Samantha was safe physically.
That took a huge load off.
But what about mentally?
That’s what was worrying me, big time. I knew my grandpa would be supportive, but I couldn’t expect him to be Samantha’s personal grief counselor, not when her parents were trying to shove their bullshit down her throat. I imagined my grandpa wouldn’t want to butt his nose into their family business, especially without my input.
Problem was, Samantha desperately needed someone to butt in and tell her parents they were fucking lunatics. That’s where I came in.
I wanted to help her fight the inevitable battles that were coming just down the road on her journey to becoming an artist, the ones every artist faced, and the ones she faced against her parents.
How was I going to do that from a jail cell?
And what was Samantha going to do when her tuition bills came due? Throw it in and do what her parents wanted? I wouldn’t blame her if she did. Cast adrift like she was, who wouldn’t be scared shitless? Most people would grab the life preserver her parents were throwing out, no matter what strings were attached.
The idea of Samantha sinking her dreams while saving her skin like that broke my heart.
Worse, I was on the verge of bailing out right after her parents had kicked her heart to the curb.
What kind of a fucking prick did that make me? I tensed as revulsion broiled in my stomach. I suddenly realized I was becoming my mom. Running out when shit got hard, just like she’d done to my dad.
Fuck me.
I vaulted from the couch, tumbling Samantha into the cushions.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I growled through clenched teeth.
“What is it, Christos?” Samantha pleaded, tears streaming down her face.
“My life is fucked,” I said hoarsely, pulling on my hair with both fists, like if I ripped the top of my head off, all my frustration would blow out, releasing the pressure in my head. Too bad it didn’t work. My skull was still capped and I was ready to blow. “It’s always been fucked.”
She blinked at me, panic setting in. “I don’t understand?! What’s wrong?!” She stood up slowly and walked over to me tentatively, almost like I was dangerous.
I ground my jaw. I’m sure she was completely freaked. We’d gone from her parents losing their shit to me losing mine two minutes later. But she had no idea why. I had a brief moment to laugh at myself. I was going insane. How could I tell her the truth now? It would only make things worse.
“Please tell me, Christos,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes.
I could tell she was desperate and confused.
She didn’t want to lose me and I didn’t want to abandon her. But chances were good that’s how it would play out. I would be walking down a concrete hallway in days to spend years behind bars. What good would I be to Samantha then? Every time she came to visit me, she’d be thinking about how her mom was right, how I was a fuck-up. Because, when you got right down to it, that’s who went to jail.
Two-bit toughs.
Fuck-ups.
Like me.
I stood in Samantha’s living room with my head hanging between my shoulders. It may as well have been hanging from a noose based on how good I felt about myself at that moment.
She wrapped her arms carefully around me and hugged me tightly. “Whatever it is,” she begged, “I’ll understand. I can’t help you unless you tell me. We can get through anything if we do it together.”