Page 2 of Property of Slayer
“I’d rather see your copy if you can get it here,” Grady tells me. “Did you have a lawyer draw it up or was it one provided to you by this facility?”
“Xavier drew it up,” I say as Mrs. Jackman scoots her chair closer to us.
“I used my life savings on top of my granddaughter’s parents’ life insurance to pay for her to be here so I didn’t have any extra money for a lawyer. Does it make a difference if I signed the one they provided as opposed to having an outside attorney make one?”
“Depends on the wording,” Grady explains. “Do you have a copy of it?”
“I do,” she says. “I carry Carolina’s folder with me whenever I take her to an appointment or take her out on a day pass.”
Grady has a giddy look on his face as he asks her, “May I take a look at them, Mrs.?”
“Jackman,” she answers. “Thank you. Like Mr. Slayer, I’m at a loss here.”
“While you’re gathering the paperwork for me to take a look at, I’m going to get my aide to file paperwork at the courthouse to remove these kids from this establishment. It’s in the best interest of all parties involved to get them out of here,” he suggests.
“I’ll sign whatever you need me to. I’m with you on this, I want Boston removed from the premises and back in my sole custody,” I announce.
“I live in a retirement home, I can’t take Carolina with me, it’s against the rules of the place,” Mrs. Jackman states, tears gathering in her eyes. I feel for her situation, but she’s still on my shit list for how she spoke to my brother and her granddaughter. If anyone understands losing their temper when the situation calls for it, it’s me, but you also don’t kick a horse while it’s down and that’s what she did to those kids. Considering where they live, she had to know that the likelihood of them understanding the consequences of their actions was slim to none.
After a bunch of back and forth jibber-jabbering, I finally had enough and put my foot down when it came to my brother and this malarkey where everyone was talking circles around each other. Nothing definitive was happening so I blew my top. Mrs. Jackman and I had a very intense conversation while our lawyer took on the facility’s firm. We know we can’t separate Boston and her granddaughter, Carolina, so Grady worked it out to where, with Mrs. Jackman’s approval, that I am now the legal guardian of both of the kids.
I promised her I could afford the financial burden of taking care of both of them while we figure out what we’re going to do about this situation. Upon Grady’s advice, I’m taking the kids to a therapist so we can determine what they understand and what they don’t. I’m conflicted with what to do with their care. If we weren’t in the midst of a war alongside all the other bullshitgoing on with the club, I’d bring them back home with me, but I also don’t think I could put them in another placement after this.
I need to call my president and see what he’d do if the roles were reversed.
CHAPTER
ONE
Jersey
I’ve been receivingsome pretty horrific emails from my sperm donor and incubator. I never used to call them that until Britton did, and it seems fitting so I’ve continued doing so, at least in my head.
The first correspondence from them wasn’t too bad, it was more woe is me than anything else, but now, they’ve gotten more threatening. They want things from me that I’mnotwilling to give them—my life savings. Money I’ve been hoarding since I was fifteen years old and started doing things for our neighbors such as mowing their lawn, weeding their flowerbeds, and babysitting their kids so I could eat and put clothes on my back.
My parents all but checked out on parenthood the moment I could do things for myself. Walking and talking became a curse for me. I ate more cereal and pop tarts than anything substantial because I could pour my own bowls and open my own saran packages.
Bathing myself was more tricky because I didn’t understand temperature control and the first time I drew my own bathtub of water, I scalded myself. Small burns, but one of them was bad enough that it scarred because I didn’t have the concept of treating it seeing as I was only four. To this day, it’s a constant reminder of how bad my mom and dad were, and continue to be, as caregivers. All they care about is their reputation, one that’s going downhill because they’ve lost all of their fortune due to their addictions and vices—daily gambling, and partying.
In three months, when I turn twenty-five, I will get my inheritance and they want it for their selfish selves since they’ve burned their way through theirs. I’ll never understand how they went through millions of dollars that should’ve set them up for life. Both of my grandparents were beyond wealthy, and they each split their wills in half between their children and me, their only grandkid.
The only good thing my parents ever did for me was teach me how not to be. My friendship with Britton is genuine, not based on what I can do for her. I made a career for myself, a rewarding one at that, where I’m responsible for molding young minds. Though with me not being a social butterfly, this position the Kings offered me is perfect. At least, for me it is. I don’t have to deal with a myriad of angry parents, I don’t have to split my attention between kids, for now, my only pupil is Elodie. I know that will change as the kids grow up and become school age. But for now, it’s a breath of fresh air. I get to do what I love without all of the politics that come along with it.
It’s a win all the way around because it works out for all parties involved. Elodie no longer has to deal with bullying, and she’s such an inquisitive kiddo that I can give her every ounce of my attention and answer her questions in a way that shecomprehends. She needs patience, kindness, and understanding because she’ll stop you mid lesson to ask questions. Most teachers would shut that down since they have a classful of kids and are on a timeline for their lessons, but since I can spread things out seeing as I’m not on a time crunch, I never dismiss her curiosity and interest in one topic.
Most days, I have an assistant in Icer, although he still keeps his distance from me and gives me side-eyed glares if I get too close to him. One day, I hope we can squelch his hesitance around me, but that would require me being able to form a complete sentence around him. He still intimidates the hell out of me, like he always has, but he still has that aura of protector about him that makes me want to stay near him. Even if his protection isn’t aimed at me, I still feel safe being in his proximity.
Being safe is all I’ve ever wanted. My parents were cavalier about who they allowed near their kid. I had a lot of close calls when it came to inebriated men. I found every nook and cranny in our house that I could use as a hiding place where nobody would find me, and made them my space by personalizing them with pillows, blankets, and books. No matter what, I always made sure there was a locked door between me and their ‘friends’.
Needless to say, when I told them about those men, they laughed and were very apathetic to my plight. They’d wave me off and claim it was my overactive imagination. I promise, it wasn’t. I know that when I’m ten and a grown ass man lets his hand roam under my skirt, that’s more than a small dose of affection, that’s a predator. I learned at a tender age to read body language and knew the ones I needed to keep a distance from. Which unfortunately, was most of my folks’ crowd of partygoers and misfits.
Sighing, I close out my email, shut down my computer, and flop back on my bed. I finally talked LoneStar and Britton into letting me move back to my trailer. I needed my own space since I was starting to feel overly crowded and twitchy. My nerves were becoming frayed and I could feel myself withdrawing from everyone—including my sister from another mister. With the threat against Britton no longer an issue, and the lockdown not lifted, but softened, I knew with me being on the compound it shouldn’t be any trouble for me to reclaim my solitude. After some grumbling and arguing, they gave in and thankfully, I’m able to breathe again.
When my phone begins to ring and vibrate on my nightstand, I roll my eyes. Somehow, without even looking at the caller I.D. I know it’s either my mother or father calling. I’ve had to block them a handful of times, but somehow, they’ve been able to override it by calling me through various apps, even if I don’t have them downloaded on my phone.
“It’s time to change my number,” I mumble as I reach over and hit the ignore button on the side of my device. “But then I’ll have to tell Britton why I’m changing it and she’ll lose her ever-loving mind.”
With her being pregnant, I don’t want to bother her with my problems, that’s not fair to her or the new life she’s growing in her uterus. I don’t want my life to stress hers. She’s done and has sacrificed enough for me as it stands. I refuse to take advantage of our friendship more than I already have.
