Hanging Pawns (The Fate Series Book 2) (6 page)

“I told you to drop it! You better not tell Sidney, she’ll never let me live it down,” Molly huffs.

“Yeah, I’ll just go call her right… oh no, I won’t,” Morgan snaps back at her. 

Ignoring them, I slowly walk up the steps.       

“Josh? Are you crazy?” I yell to him.

I’m starting to think maybe everyone else is normal, and I’m the crazy one… maybe I fell into the rabbit hole…

Maybe I’m asleep!

I pinch the back of my arm and flinch from the pain.

I had a feeling…

“I would hope not if I were you, since I’m in your room,” he yells to me.

I run up the steps after him and leave the sisters to their argument. Once inside my room I notice he’s lifting the last of his load onto a bare mattress. I cross the room and drop the last of my stuff onto the pile that is already started.

“I don’t want to sound rude, but please get out of my room. I have a lot to put away, and I would like to do it alone.” I point to the door.

Completely disregarding me, he lifts up a cluster of hangers that have been tied together with a zip tie and adorned in a black trash bag; he shakes it at me.

“Now, is that anyway to thank me for carrying all these up here?” He gives me a look. “I’m not even going to ask why your clothes are packed like this and not in suitcases,” he says, as his long finger pops through the plastic material to rip open the bag.

I stand here in a trance, watching him as he works.

He doesn’t get it…

When he’s finished removing all the trash bags from my clothes, he exits the room without saying a word, leaving me standing here in a state of bewilderment. A few minutes later he re-enters and grabs the hangers to slide a knife under the plastic tie. With a quick jerk the blade slices through the plastic, releasing the cluster.

“Oh good… I thought maybe you had left without saying goodbye.” The sarcasm rolls off my tongue like I speak it fluently.

“As though I could leave without telling you goodnight.” He looks up at me, shaking his head and grins. He slides the blade under another tie and pulls, releasing more hangers. Grabbing the cluster of clothes, he lifts them up from the bed to put everything in the closet. I pick up the empty bags, squishing them into themselves for the garbage.

“I’ve never had someone I don’t know put my stuff away for me before.” I try to change the subject. “It’s weird and very personal,” I mumble, tossing the bag that contains my bedding onto the empty mattress. My fingers dig into the material splitting it open and dumping the contents onto the bed.

“I’m being neighborly; you could learn a thing or two. And we have already established that you know me.” He grabs the edge of the sheet to pull it over the bottom corner.

This is neighborly? Hanging out in some chick’s room making her bed? That is what’s considered neighborly?

“Neighborly? So you helped them make their beds too?” I tease, jerking my head to the girls that may or may not be listening to this.

Smoothing out my side, I sidestep down the edge of the bed.

“Hell. No! Have you met them? They would cut my hand off and beat me to death with it if I touched their sheets… or anything of theirs come to think of it,” he says laughing, even though I feel there is some truth to that statement.

They don’t seem like the type of girls who take a whole lot of crap. Maybe living with them will be good for me, I just have to remember Morgan has a dark side and not to piss her off. 

“This yours?” he asks, handing me a watch that fell out of something.

“Oh. Umm, yeah…” I bite my lip, taking it from his hand.

He gives a long low whistle. “Looks snazzy.”

My mind wanders back to the day it was given to me.

“It’s nothing.” I toss it onto the bed.

“Okay then, she says it’s shit, then shit it is. Once again, not going to ask.” He shrugs.

“You aren’t?” I can’t help the hope that fills my voice. 

“Nope, you can tell me when you’re ready.” He nods.

I pick up the rest of the empty bags and begin to crush them into the rest of the pile.

“Who’s to say I have anything to tell?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Everyone has a story to tell, they just need to find the right person to tell it to,” he says impassively.

I’m balanced somewhere between wanting to scream at him to get out and laughing at how persistent he is. My eyes fall on the watch again. It was a birthday present, well sort of. It felt more like an, ‘I was out of town for your birthday… again. Here is a watch to add the all the others I have given you over the years.’ My father always had this bizarre thing he said when he handed one to me. “Time is precious, make sure you always keep track of it.” How thoughtful, coming from a man who had no time for me. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. I look up to see him standing closer; I don’t remember him walking over to me.

“I don’t have suitcases because… I didn’t feel they were a necessity,” I explain. “And the watch, that was a gift, a meaningless gift, because the person who gave it to me… did it out of some sense of obligation.” I look down at the watch. “Now, get out.” I point at the door, my voice taking on an ominous tone, her tone.

I don’t want someone asking if I’m okay…

I don’t want a relationship...

A date...

A friend… especially not him.

Men are all the same.       

“I’m sorry.” I cover my mouth when I realize who I just sounded like. “That was rude. Please, get out.” I wave my arm to the door, taking slow steady breaths through my mouth.

His hand raises as he steps closer, and my attention shifts to observe. “
Don’t move an inch, Princess,” her voice rings in my head
. I clench my teeth, waiting, when he moves my hair behind my ear.

To a normal girl… a girl unlike the one in front of him, this would be a heart melting moment. However, I forbid my heart to do something so nonsensical as to melt for anyone, especially not someone it just met.

“I’m not sure what just happened, but I won’t be the one to bring it up again.” His eyes shift to my lips as he cups my chin in his hand, tipping it up toward him so I am forced to look into his eyes.

Guilt… that’s what I feel. I should have made myself clear before; but I didn’t, so this is what I deserve.

“I need you to go now,” I whisper, my eyes looking down away from his.

If eyes are windows into the soul then there are things I don’t want him to see… things I can’t even look at myself.

He releases me and silently walks out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Leaving my old life was supposed to be a fun, exciting adventure. I was supposed to be able to leave
her
behind and become whoever
I
wanted to be. How can
I
leave
her
behind when
she
so clearly is everywhere
I
am?

Suddenly feeling exhausted, I take out my contacts, blinking as the air hits my eyes and put them into their case. Fixing my hair before bed, I lie down, pulling the pillow into my stomach and wrapping my arms around it.

Today did not go how I had planned it…

“No use thinking of the past for its gone, don’t think of the future because it has to come, think of the present because that’s where you are.”

~ Kazi Shams

“I think this marriage will be the best thing to happen to you. I promise you will grow to like him.” My mother gives a flat smile from her place at the dinner table.

“Where is dad? What does he think?” I ask, my voice not louder than a whisper.

Ladies aren’t supposed to raise their voices.

“Your father? Mea, this is your father’s idea. You are getting older, and you can’t live here forever. It’s time you got married and started doing more socially involved things. It’s the way it’s supposed to be.” She takes a bite of food.

I feel sick to my stomach.

“But what about college? I want to go NYU.” I try to plead my case. She lifts her crystal goblet to take a drink and chokes on the liquid when she hears me.

Placing it back on the table slowly, she raises her cloth napkin to dab her mouth. “No, no, proper ladies don’t attend college. You will get married, your husband will work and you will attend charity events. That is what we do.” Her voice becomes clipped at the end.

“But—I… What about love?” My brows furrow at the idea of marrying a man who was chosen for me.

“Love? Oh dear girl, you are so naïve,” she muses. “Love makes you stupid. How on earth do you run a man’s life if you are in love with him?” Her voice climbs higher in pitch. “You don’t,” she says matter-of-factly. “They run yours,” she finishes her thought.

“Is he at least nice?” I dare to ask.

She gives me a sideways look before answering, “Even the kindest of men will show their true nature once their clothes are shed.” I hear my mother’s disembodied voice echo in my head.

My eyes spring open, sweat pouring off of me from my dream… nightmare… whatever you want to call it. Grasping at the blankets I look around, exhaling when I see where I am. The pounding in my body slows.

You’re fine… no impending marriage.

What the hell time is it?

My room fills with the sounds of a radio blasting in the room on the other side of my wall. I throw my comforter off my body before standing up on my bed. Just as my hands go to hit the wall, the music stops and all is quiet again.

“Thank you,” I mutter, my head pressing again the wall. Dropping to the bed, I glance to the clock just as my alarm goes off.

6am…

“Time to run, Princess. No one is going to want you if you’re fat.” I hear her in my head again.

I look at the last of my unpacked “luggage”.

It looks enough to me…

Lifting the last two bags of things that need to be put away, I tear them open, spreading out all the clothes to look them over. The only things that are left are bras and panties, and my everyday clothes— jeans, running clothes, yoga pants, and some old hoodies. I grab the clothes my mother would die if she knew I had with me and walk into the bathroom that’s attached to my room.

“If you could be anyone you want, Mea Andrews, who would you be?” I ask the girl in the mirror. She doesn’t answer, but I can see in her eyes she knows. She just doesn’t want to tell me.

“Fine, have it your way.” I stick my tongue out at her. 

I’m almost finished getting ready when a light knock comes from my bedroom door. I yell out to tell whoever it is that I’m getting changed. When I’m ready, I fix my hair and put in my contacts.
Glasses make a girl ugly…
or so I’ve been told. I look down longingly at the pair of crystal encrusted frames I secretly got, then turn to leave the room.

The house is surprisingly silent as I make my way through the hall and down the steps. How fast do these people move? They just knocked on my door. I walk through the dining room and see a note. There is a set of house keys on it, already attached to my car keys. Next to the note is a map they printed to show me where they run in case I need them. Locating my purse, I dig around for my iPod and secure it around my arm. My playlist begins to pour from the little speakers; I drape the earphones over the back of my shoulders and head for the front door.

“You take forever to get ready.” Josh smiles, standing up on the front steps.

Locking the door, I turn, coolly looking at him standing in front of me, blocking the steps.

“I don’t have class until eleven. I figured I would go for a run.” I rock back on the heels of my sneakers.

“I can see that. You’re wearing that instead of one of your many designer outfits. Which brings me to a question… my only question that is.” He taps his chin.

I unintentionally step back. My heart begins to slam against my chest harder and harder with each beat. Looking nervously around for an escape route, I see there is nothing unless I want to take a running jump off the side of the front porch into the yard.

“Whose are they? You don’t look like the type of girl who would even know what to do with clothes like that. Is there something you would like to confess?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

Anger sweeps over me. 

“You don’t look like the type of guy who would know who most of those people are either. So, is there something you would like to confess?” I ask in the same tone. My eyes narrow on him. “I have nothing to tell, and if did, you wouldn’t be the person I would seek comfort in,” I growl at him. Remembering what he did yesterday, I hop over the porch divider and take off down the steps.

“I’m sorry, I won’t bring it up again!” he yells.

Good. In fact, don’t bring up anything with me anymore. Just leave me alone.

“Wonderful, neither will I!” I shout back. 

Pain envelopes my chest. I don’t want to be mean but why won’t he just give up on me like everyone else?

Not knowing where to go, I take off running in the direction I saw on the twins’ map. I slip the speakers into my ears, circling the ring on the white device strapped to my arm to find a song. When I find it I turn the music up as loud as it takes to drown out all the voices in my head. My mother who thinks I should be like her and my gold-digging sisters who think I should just marry for money and be happy someone married me.