The Maddox Brothers: Beautiful Burn Part 7

Sally held up her hand. "We talked about this, Mr. Edson. Ellison, this isn't about me. This is about you."

"What's in it for you? What do you get out of this?" I asked, seething.

"Nothing. Healing your family is my job."

"Not for long," I warned. "Don't forget who signs the check, Sally. It isn't my mother, and Daddy doesn't subscribe to your bulls.h.i.t." I pointed to my father. "Daddy, you can't let her do this."

"This is best," my father said without conviction.

"Best for who? You've raised me to be this person. Now you're going to punish me for it? I didn't used to be this way. I've tried being good to get your attention. Nothing works!"

"Guilt," Sally said.

"This is a tourist town! No available job here is going to pay enough to satisfy whatever it is I owe, and rent and bills! It will literally take me years!"

"Reasoning," Sally said.

When my father didn't show any signs of recanting, I pushed out my bottom lip, sitting crisscross to appear child-like. "I know I messed up. I'll be better, Daddy, I swear."

"Bargaining," Sally said.

A tear fell down my cheek. "I will hate you after this. This is not going to bring us closer. I will never speak to you again."

Sally cleared her throat. "Manipulation. Those tears are instruments, Philip."

"f.u.c.k you, you abhorrent c.u.n.t!" I clutched the sheets in my fists and bounced once on the mattress as I screamed.

My parents' eyes grew wide. Sally looked relieved. "There. There is the real Ellison. You aren't penniless. You still have use of the house. Maricela will make sure there are basic provisions. The rest, as Meredith has said, is up to you."

My father watched me with pain in his eyes. I knew this was killing him inside. "We do love you. You're right, bunny, we've failed you. This is the only way we know how to fix this."

"I know," I said through my teeth. "Leaving someone else in charge of my fate has always been your go-to."

He winced, and my mother guided him out and down the hall. Sally stayed behind with a smug smile on her face.

"You can go," I said, looking at the window across the room where, only half an hour before, Finley and I had been admiring Paige's beauty and discussing how I shouldn't ruin her.

"You can call your parents, Ellison. But not to torture them. Not to beg. Not to try to change their minds. I will be with them for the next three months. Your phone bill has been transferred to your name and responsibility. You have a basic package until you can afford more, so use it wisely."

I turned to her, hoping to kill her with my glare. "Why are you still here?"

"It is important that you use this time to better yourself. This is going to be life-changing for you, Ellie. Take advantage. What your parents are doing is the hardest thing they've ever done, and they're doing it because they love you."

"Oh my G.o.d, Sally. You're right. I'm cured."

Sally breathed out a laugh. "I'm glad to see you've maintained a sense of humor."

"That wasn't humor, imbecile; it was sarcasm. You can f.u.c.k right off with my gullible parents, you greedy, scheming snake."

"Best to you, dear. I do hope we'll talk soon."

"I hope you text my parents asking for money, two seconds too long before looking up and being hit head-on by a truck full of toxic waste."

Sally didn't look appalled, but sad, turning for the door without another word. She spoke softly with my parents, Maricela, and Jose before the front door closed and their car headed for the gate.

I pounded my fists against the mattress, screaming as loudly as I could. The words coming from my mouth didn't even make sense, and I couldn't remember what was said from one sentence to the next, but I had no choices, and it was the only thing to do.

I rushed down the hall to Finley's room. Her bed was made, her room empty, her luggage gone.

"What the f.u.c.k?" I said, running back to my room for my phone. I dialed Finley's number.

She answered right away. "Ellie? Oh my Christ, honey, I'm in the car with Marco. They barely gave me time to get dressed. Maricela had my things packed and sitting next to the door when I got back to my room."

"They kicked you out, too?"

"No. They want me to leave for Sanya. They said you need time alone."

"Oh, for f.u.c.k's sake. I'm in a time-out?"

Finley grew quiet. "What are you going to do? Mother said you're cut off."

"I ... I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead. I guess ... I guess I..." If I asked Finley for money, I would be as pathetic as every putrid mule we'd b.i.t.c.hed about since p.u.b.erty.

"They've forbidden me to help you," Finley said, sounding defeated. "But I left all the cash I had in my nightstand. I think it's eight or nine hundred. She's taken your pa.s.sport and frozen all of your accounts. I'm so sorry."

"Did you know this was going to happen? Is that why you came home?"

"Of course not. You're my sister, Ellie..."

"It'll be okay. Thanks for the cash. When they stop being mad, they'll feel bad and change their minds."

"No," Finley said softly. "They've turned over control to Sally."

"That's ridiculous. Not even possible."

"They've signed a contract. Sally has to sign off on all monies or services extended to you. That's what Mother told me. I don't know what they're going to do if you don't find an apartment. Sally was talking about shelters in Estes Park." I'd never heard Finley sound afraid before.

"That's just ... absurd. Once Daddy abandons this bulls.h.i.t intervention, he'll tell Sally to kick rocks. He loves me more than his own conscience, more than Mother-definitely more than a G.o.dd.a.m.n contract with a wannabe therapist."

"Exactly. He loves you more than anything, Ellie. More than his guilt or pride, or your anger. More than me."

"That's not true, Finley. You're the good daughter."

"And you're the one who requires the most attention."

My chest ached. It was the truth, which made it that much more painful. I didn't know Finley thought of me that way, and her opinion was the only one that mattered to me.

She continued like she hadn't just ripped out my heart. "It's too early to call, but I wouldn't count on their help anytime soon. They're serious this time. You've gone too far."

"You have to talk to them."

"I've tried. I've tried to talk to you, too, if you'll remember."

"Fin. You're my sister. Help me."

She paused for several seconds, and then sighed. "I am."

Even though Finley couldn't see me, I nodded, and then touched my fingers to my lips. She was right, but that didn't make it fair. There were less dramatic ways for my parents to make their point.

"Have a good trip," I said.

"I'm so sorry, Ellie."

"Yeah," I said, pressing the END b.u.t.ton. The phone fell from my palm onto the bed. I looked out the window at the snow blowing off the trees. Get a job? I have a degree in ceramics. Where in the f.u.c.k am I going to get a job in Estes Park?

CHAPTER FIVE.

"I said no," I said, picking at the wood on Sterling's monstrosity of a dining room table.

"It's perfect for you," Sterling said, sipping his third gla.s.s of red wine. He was still licking his wounds from our night with Finley. Contrary to what he'd said when he'd invited me over, Sterling wasn't the least invested in ideas for me to find a job in Estes Park.

"A bartender?" I said. "The people in this town know who I am-most of all the bartenders. They will laugh me out of the building if I go looking for a job. They won't believe that I need one."

"They can't discriminate against you, Ellie. If you're qualified more than anyone else who's applied, they'll have to give it to you."

"That's not how this works. They hire grandsons and nieces in this town. And, no. Not a bartender. I just got kicked out of Turk's. They'll be afraid I'll drink up their stock. Especially now that Jose has been ordered to remove all the liquor from the house."

"Really?"

"Really," I grumbled.

"What the h.e.l.l did you do, Ellie? It can't be worse than the time you-"

"It wasn't. A painting was broken. A few vases and a table. Some vomit on the floor ... nothing the cleaning crew couldn't handle."

"Then it's not about the money."

"What do you mean?"

"You're f.u.c.ked. They're not trying to teach you responsibility or appreciation, Ellison. They're trying to save you from yourself. Betsy March's parents did the same thing to her. You have no way out of this. You might as well give in or end it all now."

My mouth fell open. "You are an unbelievable a.s.shole."

He took another sip of wine. "People keep saying that. I'm inclined to believe it."

I looked up at him, my cheeks already burning from humiliation. "You don't need a ... um ... an a.s.sistant or anything, do you?"

"Me? f.u.c.k no. I already have four. Oh. You mean ... hire you?"

My eyes fell to the floor. "Only if you need one. I don't want charity."

"It would never work, Ellie."

"Why?"

"Because we're friends, and I want to continue to be friends."

"You just told me to kill myself."

He chuckled. "I didn't mean it."

"Fine."

He pointed at me. "That's why."

I frowned. "What are you talking about now?"

"You didn't even put up a fight. I said 'no,' and you folded. I don't want a p.u.s.s.y working for me. I was raised with more nannies than I have a.s.sistants. One to wipe my a.s.s, one to wash my hands, one to feed me, one to play with me during the day, and one to wake up with me at night. There were more. I don't remember their names. But my favorite? Beatrice. She was meaner than a cat with a firecracker in its a.s.s, and I loved it. No one else talked to me like that. I need people who aren't afraid to tell me the truth. You can, but you can't, and we remain friends."

I sighed, and then nodded, already bored with his speech. He did love to hear himself talk.

Sterling tossed the paper at me, leaned across the table, and turned to the cla.s.sifieds. There were already red circles in the Help Wanted section.

"Mail sorter," I said, reading his suggestions. "McDonald's." I looked up at him. He held up his hands. "Bank teller. I'm broke, and you think it's a good idea that a pot head without money for pot works at a bank?"

He shrugged, standing up and heading for the bar. "I'm trying. You need a drink."

"Desk clerk for a hotel. Nights. Checking guests in and out, light cleaning, and putting out continental breakfast." I looked up at Sterling. "They pay people fifteen dollars an hour to do this?"

"It's a tourist town. They can't get people to work for minimum wage even at minimum wage jobs. The cost of living is too high."

"There's nothing else?"

"An a.s.sistant at the local magazine." He chuckled. "The MountainEar," he said in a mocking tone. "Guess who owns it?"

"Philip Edson?" I snorted.

"Nope, this is one your father doesn't own. It's the new endeavor of J.W. Chadwick, the owner of Turk's. He's not going to hire you. There's also a server position at the resort, but you'd be dealing with d.i.c.ks like us all day."

I covered my face, letting the paper fall to the table. "This is what I get for majoring in something I knew wasn't going to come with the expectation of a job. They've f.u.c.ked me. My parents have f.u.c.ked me."

"You've f.u.c.ked yourself. Don't act like you didn't know what you were doing."