I opened the bathroom door and made my way out into the kitchen to grab something to eat. I loved my apartment; it was my favorite place to be. It had an open floor plan, the rooms transitioning smoothly but still connecting. My stackable washer and dryer were tucked in a closet near the kitchen, keeping my laundry hidden. My windows were floor to ceiling, letting in natural light, warming up the sharp lines.
“Are you ready for your trip?” Uncle Alejandro asked.
I gasped, my hand immediately going over my heart.
“Oh my God! You scared the shit out of me! Again! Can’t you knock? For once, fucking knock on the door like a normal person.”
He sipped his coffee, sitting at my dining table.
“I refuse to knock in an apartment that I own.”
“No shit,” I murmured, walking into my kitchen to serve myself some much-needed coffee.
“I see it’s your bitch-causing time.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“I asked you a question. I don’t like waiting for an answer.”
“Mmm hmm,” I said, sitting at the island, flipping through the latest issue of Cosmopolitan.
“You don’t look ready.”
“I have a few weeks,” I said, peering away from the magazine looking into his eyes before he ordered me to.
“I give you a gift and this is the thanks I get. I’m handing you a big responsibility, peladita—”
“I’m not a little girl,” I gritted out.
He grinned, folding his arms over his chest. “Then stop acting like one. You have been handed everything on a silver-fucking platter and you still act like a bitch. Throwing fits and demanding respect. You dropped out of high school and you still get to live a life of privilege.” He gestured all around him. “How many other eighteen-year-olds can say that?"
"I'm not like most eighteen-year-olds, Uncle," I countered.
"I take care of you. I always have, Briggs. Since the day I picked you up from the hospital in Washington. If it wasn’t for me you’d have grown up in foster care. Where do you think that would have led you, eh? Dime?” he asked, “Tell me.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Let me remind you. En caso de que,” he said, “Just in case.” He stood, rounding the corner to stand in front of me.
“You wouldn’t have this million-dollar apartment, the name-brand closet, the fancy restaurants, the endless traveling around the world. How about the black credit card in your wallet? You know who pays for all that, Briggs? I do.”
I wanted to tell him that none of that mattered to me. That I never wore half the shit in the closet. That it was there because he said I needed to wear it to the upscale parties and the fancy restaurants. Everything he does for me…
Was really for him.
But I didn’t bat an eye. He was right about one thing. I embraced it or I had nothing.
This life was all I had.
It was all I ever had.
I smiled, big and wide. “I’m fucking thrilled. I can’t wait. Thank you again, Uncle, for everything," I said in a sarcastic tone.
“Better. Next time wipe off the shit-eating grin off your face.”
I laughed, shaking my head.
“Why don’t you go deface your body some more? Or is there no part left on your skin to ruin?”
He hated my tattoos. Every last one of them. Especially the first one I got done on my back. To say he was livid would have been an understatement. He never asked about the meaning behind it but then again, he didn’t have to.
“Make sure you’re ready. No fucking around. Understood?”
I nodded, ignoring him, flipping through another magazine.
With that, he turned and left my apartment.
I spent the rest of the afternoon, thinking about someone…
That I shouldn’t.
Chapter 14
<>Austin<>
Over the last two months it was only me and Mike. After Detroit, we all sort of went our separate ways. I was expecting it. I never thought I was going to make lifelong friends with the people I happened to come across. It was cool while it lasted, but everyone had to move on at some point. Mike wanted to head back to his home state, New York. He said he had a lot of friends that we could crash with. We made several stops along the way, but nothing too promising or exciting to make us stay for more than a few weeks.
We worked at a couple places in Pittsburgh to earn some cash before heading to Manhattan. We arrived in New York early one morning and managed to find a shitty motel to stay at until Mike got in touch with his friends; in the meantime, we would look for some more work. New York was expensive as shit, and I was grateful we’d made some decent money over the last two months.
I took a long, hot shower, soaking it up while it lasted. I walked out of the bathroom and Mike was lying on the bed, talking on the hotel phone.
“Yeah, I’m at Hotel Carter on West 43rd Street. Perfect, thanks.” He hung up. “Feel better?”
I nodded, setting the wet clothes I washed in the shower on the air vent to dry.
“I’m going to jump in next. I ordered us some food and shit. Answer the door.”
I nodded again, waving him off.