Letters to Lily (Letters to... #1) Page 4

  Chapter Four

  ~Kade~

  April 29 - I didn't even get to leave my mom's suite for my own room the night before. I had to sleep on the sofa in the room just in case she choked on her own vomit. I was completely done in thanks to the horribly uncomfortable couch, the hours of helping my mom while she excised her demons into the toilet, and the sleeplessness that followed wondering what Sasha must think of all this. I hated that I hadn't been able to talk to her yet. I had to make getting a new cell phone a priority today.

  As I was making a list of things I needed to get done, my mother was dragging her hung over behind out the bedroom area. “Room service,” she grunted at me as if I were supposed to read her mind about what she wanted. “I need some toast and juice, possibly coffee too,” she demanded before stumbling into the bathroom.

  “Sure mother, anything else?” My sarcasm was not missed.

  “Don't be an ass this morning. I've had a bad week.”

  “And you didn't bring that on yourself at all,” I muttered. She still managed to hear me though if her grunt of displeasure was any indication.

  “I need to use your phone,” she yelled out to me. “I'm going to have to call Mick.” Mick was my mother's attorney, so I assumed that she had all ready started some process or other of helping my father monetarily that needed to be stopped immediately.

  “Mom, my phone took an unfortunate dive into the toilet before I ever even got to leave for the airport. I haven't had a minute to stop and get a new one. I also don't have the cash to get one, seeing as how I just paid bills and bought an emergency plane ticket to come out here.”

  “We'll stop by the phone store on the way to the asshole's new house then.”

  “Mom, tell me you did not buy him a house,” I demanded.

  “Nope. He wanted me to go in with him on it, but he all ready had it built before he clued me in. I guess once it was finished with all the extras he and his harlot added, it was too much money for him to afford and the bank turned down the final loans.”

  “And just where do you and your money fall into the rest of the mess?”

  “I was supposed to pay the builders the balance, and my name was getting added to the deed.”

  “I'm sure the original loans too.”

  “No, I told him I wouldn't sign for the loans if I was paying out all the extra cash at the end.”

  “Well, that's something at least. Am I to assume you've all ready cut checks to the builders that need to be stopped?”

  “Well,” she hedged. “They're meeting with your father this morning, and he has the checks.”

  “You never learn, do you?” I huffed out in frustration. “Get dressed. We'll grab you something for your stomach on the way. I hope you have a damn rental car, because I'm apparently under age to rent one on my own.”

  “Sure, I do.”

  I had to drive my mom to my dad's new house in the rental car that I wasn't supposed to be driving. My family, I swear, every little thing about them together was just wrong. I just didn't know why my mom couldn't see that. I wanted nothing more than to hurry and tidy this mess up so that I could get back to Sasha. My anxiety levels where she was concerned were starting to shoot through the roof. We hadn't exactly left things on a great note. I knew I was okay with the direction she wanted to go; I just hadn't had the chance to tell her that yet. Hell, I wanted things to move far faster, but I was afraid of scaring her. Now, I was stuck here, incommunicado, dealing with my parents' ongoing disaster of a relationship.

  When we pulled up at the house there were two trucks. One belonging to the builder, the other was my dad's, according to mom. Then there was a little red Beamer. I just knew what that would mean. Apparently, my mom didn't miss the meaning either since her face turned five different shades of red as she furiously flung the rental car door open and stomped up the drive to where my dad was shaking hands with another man while handing over what looked suspiciously like my mother's checks.

  “Oh, no you don't, you rotten bastard.” She leaped, literally leaped, in between the two men and snatched the check that was still hovering between both of their hands. I chuckled as she proceeded to rip it to shreds.

  “What on earth do you think you're doing?” A woman, not much older than myself, who was holding a toddler on her hip, started shouting.

  “You shut your mouth you damn home wrecking harlot!” My mom yelled. Cue the nosey neighbors who suddenly had to check their mail at nine in the morning, or water their lawns during a lawn-watering ban. The builder, for his part, looked taken aback at first, and then cued in to the situation at hand. He shook his head, disgust riddled in his features. I just wasn't sure if that particular sentiment was being lobbed at my mother, father, his newest fling, or the whole situation.

  “Harlan, we can meet again another day to settle up. Obviously, you have a mess to clean up first.” The man trekked over to his truck, hopped inside, and got the hell out of Dodge. Kind of like how I wished I could at the moment. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration before I huffed out a sigh, and stepped between my bickering parents.

  “How about we all take this inside so we aren't putting on a show for the neighbors?” I suggested, raising my voice a bit to be heard above the three people who were supposed to be the adults in this situation.

  For the first time, my dad realized I was standing there, “Kaden? What are you doing here?”

  “It's great to see you too, dad,” I called back, the sentiment dripping in sarcasm. “How about we take this shit-show inside?”

  My dad narrowed his eyes at my obvious disdain for his bullshit, but nodded his head, placed his hand on the small of the woman's back that was still clinging to the little girl who couldn't have been more than two years old. My mom huffed at the obvious display, and my dad's disregard for her altogether.

  While the house had looked a little large for the small family from the outside, it was downright ostentatious from the inside. Seriously, there were marble countertops, over the top appliances, fixtures that I wouldn't begin to know how to price, and just a level of opulence that my father obviously had never bothered to achieve on his own merit. No wonder he needed my mom's check. He and his diva had allowed their wants to exceed their needs and budget in a major way when picking out all those extras for the builders to include. It looked as though an interior decorator had all ready been through the place furnishing it as well.

  “I'm not entirely sure what's going on here, right now, but we need to get one thing straight,” I started while looking my dad in his still narrowed eyes. “My mother will not, under any circumstance, be paying for your new house with your new mistress and her spawn.”

  The woman in question took in a sharp breath as if I'd just smacked her. I'm sure it felt that way since I called her adorable little kid her spawn. “That spawn you mentioned is your sister,” my dad snapped back.

  I did a double take then, ignoring the whimpered cry my mother lobbed into the air. The cute little kid tucked up into her mother's arms, looking particularly scared of me at the moment, was my little sister? Wonders never ceased apparently, kind of like how my dad never ceased to procreate. I had heard rumors that he had a kid almost my age running around Vegas too. I never thought to substantiate those rumors, because honestly, I was afraid it would be true. Not that I wouldn't want to meet my sibling, but I worried what that meant for the kid that got left behind. Also, I wondered what they would feel for me since I was the kid he stayed with. It wasn't lost on me that it probably had more to do with my mom's money and not which kid he preferred. All the same, when I'd heard the rumors a few years ago, I chose to ignore them rather than look any closer at my family's cracked and dented outward appearance.

  “Okay, we'll come back to that little nugget of information in a minute, because I'm assuming up until this week you've had a working phone number for me. It's the same damn cell phone number I've had since I was 15.”

  My dad just shrugged his shoulders,
“I wasn't sure.”

  “Well, you know how to be sure? You call it!” I had to take a minute to calm my composure, because I was seriously about to hit something or someone. That someone being my callous, good for nothing father. “Regardless of whether that kid is yours or not, she's not my mother's responsibility. It's damned insulting that you would even think of dragging my mom into this mess because you can't afford the ridiculous house you built. How about you grow the hell up, live to your means, and try taking care of one family at a time for once. God only knows how many more siblings I have out there.” I rolled my eyes as I voiced the concern I tried so hard to ignore only moments ago.

  “There's just one more. You remember Sandra?” Sandra had been our neighbor when we lived in Vegas before. I only knew of her because of pictures that I found in a family album once. She had moved to the other side of town when I was still small, but there was a picture of me playing with her son in a sandbox. We were damn near the same age.

  “Please, tell me you're lying. The kid from the picture in the sandbox?”

  “You bastard!” My mom yelped out on a heaving sob. “You promised you wouldn't tell him.”

  “He's a grown up, now. No more protecting him from my other life.” My father's tone was still heartless, although I thought I saw a flicker of regret in there somewhere.

  “Fantastic, so somewhere out there, I have a brother who has to be damn closed to my age, and now, I have a sister, who can't be too far out of diapers.” I flicked my hand at the whole damn mess my father created, and turned as if to leave. “Mom, let's go!”

  “Wait,” the woman called out. “Kade, don't you want to get to know your sister at all? I wanted to tell you, before we left Northbrook, but your dad didn't give me a chance.” I turned and really looked at her then. Damn if this wasn't the same girl my dad had an affair with that broke up his marriage to my mom for good. This was the girl, Angie, who had graduated a whole two years before I did. When I was a junior in high school, and she had been one year out of school, she'd run off to Vegas with my dad and apparently had been knocked up. I guess at least some of the rumors had been true.

  “Fantastic. Angie, was it?” She smiled up at me. “If I decide it's necessary to have a relationship with my sister, I will let you know. Apparently, I didn't miss out on a whole hell of a lot with my brother back in the day, so I doubt that will happen.” The smile on her face faltered just as quickly as it had warmed to me when she realized I remembered her name. “You helped him destroy our family,” I said to her, “if you think that earns you any respect from me because you happened to get knocked up while doing it, you have me pegged all wrong.”

  “Kaden Andrew Miller, you will not speak to my wife like that!” My dad shouted with what he thought was authority over me.

  “Your wife?” My mom gasped. Angie smirked. I shook my head.

  “Mom, you still have the messages between you and dad with him begging you to take him back saying he left his girlfriend behind?”

  “Y-yeaah,” she managed to huff out through a fresh onslaught of tears.

  “Fantastic, they'll come in real handy for the fraud charges we're about to go file. I think we should stop by the builder's office and have a chat with him too about the check he almost took this morning.”

  “You wouldn't!” The panic in my father's voice almost made me giddy.

  “Being an asshole who doesn't give two shits about what happens to his family is hereditary, I guess.” I offered up in explanation of my threats before I dragged my mom back out to her rental car and tucked her inside.

  We were half way back to our hotel before she even thought to question what I'd said. “Can we really do that? Sue him, I mean? Or have him arrested, or whatever?”

  “Hell if I know, mom. I was bluffing, but it's certainly a question to ask Mick. Although, I'm sure that would involve needing an attorney to represent you here. I'm sure Mick's not licensed in Nevada.”

  I got my mom back to the hotel and left her in her room while I took off for mine. First thing that was happening was a shower and then clean clothes. I was still wearing the same rumpled up shit I had put on when I found out I had to take off for Vegas at the last minute. The stress definitely had me all knotted up and tense, so I took a little longer than I normally would, allowing the hot water to loosen the muscles that stress had bunched up tightly. By the time I was done, dressed, and teeth brushed I was itching to get my hands on a cell phone so I could call Sasha.

  I decided it was probably best to let my mom know I was headed to what she dubbed the “phone store” since she needed to replace hers as well. I knocked once, and didn't get an answer so I knocked again, louder this time when I heard a loud thump come from the other side of the room I grew concerned. I turned and went back to my own room to dial up the concierge. “I think my mom may have fallen in her room and she can't get to the door,” I told him. I didn't honestly think that. I thought she was in there knocking back every available liquor in the hospitality bar, but I couldn't convince him to bring a key to open her room with that concern.

  “We'll send someone right up, sir.”

  Less than five minutes passed before I heard the distinct ding of the elevator and saw a man in a suit with an earpiece fitted to his ear moving down the corridor. “I'm Smith, hotel security. Our concierge suggested you were concerned about the welfare of another guest?”

  “My mom,” I stated as he continued to take me in. “I heard a thump when I knocked, but nothing since. She's not really well right now, so…”

  He wrapped his knuckles firmly on the door. “Security ma'am. If you can hear me, call out and let me know if you need assistance.” Nothing. Now, I really was more concerned with more than just the minibar bill. If my mom thought there was an authoritative figure on the other side of the door, no matter how hammered she was, she would most definitely respond to them. “Ma'am, I'm coming in with your son.” He swiped a keycard in the door and pushed it open. His guard was on high, as he looked around for any threats or emergencies. The room was clear, but I didn't waist time standing around either. I pushed forward into the bedroom portion of the suite where I saw a pill bottle. An empty pill bottle and lid.

  “MOM!” I yelled as I backed out, heading for the bathroom. The security man, Smith, was all ready there and talking into whatever connected him to the earpiece, I assumed.

  “We need medics in room 1510. Unconscious middle-aged female. Son says she wasn't well earlier.” He looked at me.

  “I think she took pills. There's an empty bottle on the bed.” I motioned behind me then while staring at my mom's unmoving form.

  “Still breathing, but respirations are shallow,” the man mentioned to whomever he was talking to. It obviously wasn't me. Then he looked back up at me. “Go, get the bottle, so I can tell them what she took.”

  I ran from the room, grabbed the bottle, and let go a string of cuss words as I realized what she'd taken. Xanax.

  “Do you know how many were in here?” I shook my head. “Empty pill bottle with Xanax prescription on it. Filled 10 days ago, prescription was for 15 pills. It's possible there were only five, if she took them as ordered. The son doesn't know how many were there.” He was quiet a moment, and then took in the rest of the bathroom. “No,” he paused and lifted a mini bottle out of the trash. “Possible alcohol chaser.” Another pause. “Vodka.”

  A loud knock sounded on the door then, and I went to open it. The paramedics blew in past me as I pointed to the bathroom. Smith was moved out of the way as the emergency responders took over and started doing what they needed to. They bagged up the prescription bottle and placed it on her chest along with the mini bottle of vodka that Smith had fished out of the wastebasket in the bathroom. She was on the stretcher with the evidence of her attempted demise placed on her chest as they started rolling her out.

  “Wait, you can't take her out with that sitting in plain view like that,” I yelled at them. One of the men blushed, and cove
red it with the blanket they had pulled up around my mom's waist. She was wearing a skirt, and they were trying to conserve her modesty, but not afraid to let everyone know she'd attempted to harm herself. Great.

  “Sir,” Smith called out. “Is there anything we can do to assist you at this time?”

  “Just lock up her room for now. I'll be back later. I don't think she was scheduled to check out just yet anyway.” Then I was gone, chasing after the emergency techs that were rolling my mom into the elevator. They were jabbering about her condition, but I had tuned everything out. Once again, I found myself without a phone to call anyone. Then it hit me. There was really no one to call about my mom. It was just she and I. My dad wouldn't care. Hell, he'd contributed to this. If there was a way to have him thrown in jail for it, I would be all over that. I wasn't dumb enough to recognize that my mom had to take responsibility for allowing my dad to affect her this way though. Especially after all the history they shared, most of it not good.

  It didn't take too terribly long after she was admitted for a doctor to come talk to me. “We're terribly sorry for all you've been through today. Your mom is going to be fine. We were able to get her stomach pumped, and have her set up on an IV drip. I don't want you to worry over much, but when you go in to see her, you should know she's been strapped to the gurney for her own safety. It's policy, considering how she came in.” I nodded my head and followed behind him as he started walking. “She's going to be admitted automatically for a 72 hour hold. This is non-negotiable and does not require her consent as she tried to harm herself.” Again, I nodded. Somewhere in the back of my head I knew this was a given.

  “A social worker is being brought down to talk to you about what will happen next, and what your responsibilities will be for your mom. You are her next of kin?” The last was a question.