Flock Page 2

  The hardest part of that will be to tame my mouth and silence my resentment, which is front and center since he could have spared us both an awkward year together by simply having a fucking heart with the woman who has done both their jobs as my parent.

  I don’t exactly hate my father, but I don’t understand him or his unapologetic cruelty, and never will. I’m not about to spend the next year trying to figure him out. Any communication on his part has always felt mandatory and rushed. He’s always been a monetary provider, not a dad. I respect his work ethic and success but have zero understanding as to the whys of his lack of empathy and the chill of his sub-zero personality.

  “I’ll come home every chance I can,” I tell Christy, unsure I can make it a promise due to my schedule.

  “I’ll come up too.”

  Opening the top of my chest of drawers, I toss in a pile of socks and undies, “Let’s see how Adolf feels about you occupying a guest room before you gas up, okay?”

  “I’ll rent a hotel with my mom’s card. Fuck your dad.”

  I laugh, and it sounds odd in the massive room. “You really aren’t feeling my parents today.”

  “I love your mom, but I don’t get it. Maybe I need to go by and see her.”

  “She moved in with Timothy.”

  “Really? When?”

  “Yesterday. Just give her time to get settled.”

  “Okay…” she pauses, “why am I just now hearing this? I knew things were getting bad, but what’s really going on?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know.” I sigh, giving in to the resentment I’m starting to feel. It’s not like me to hide anything from Christy. “She’s going through something. Timothy is a decent guy, and I trust him with her.”

  “But he wouldn’t let you move in.”

  “To be fair, I’m an adult, and he doesn’t exactly have the space.”

  “I still want to know why she’s okay with letting you live with your dad now.”

  “I told you, I have to work at the plant for a year to get her set up. I don’t want to worry about her while I’m at school.”

  “It’s not your job.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re not the parent.”

  “We both know I am. And we’ll resume our plans the minute I get back.”

  It was a surprise to me that my father agreed to let me attend community college here for a couple of semesters, rather than make me take a sabbatical to start a year late at a more acceptable school. It’s his dime, and he’s the sole source of my college fund, so that win during negotiations let me know he wanted his way enough to compromise—a departure from his controlling personality.

  I glance around the room. “I haven’t spent more than a day with him or summered here since I was eleven.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It was always something. He claimed it was overseas trips and expansion that kept him from being able to care for me for weeks or months at a time. The truth is, I got my period, boobs, and an attitude, and he couldn’t deal. I don’t think there’s anything Roman fears more than being a real parent.”

  “It’s weird you call your dad by his first name.”

  “Not to his face. When I’m here, it’s Sir.”

  “You never talk about him.”

  “Because I don’t know him.”

  “So, when do you start your job?”

  “My shifts will be from three to eleven, but I’ve got orientation tomorrow.”

  “Call me when you get off. I’ll let you unpack.”

  It strikes me when we disconnect that I’ll be stuck with the silence in the room, of the house, and utterly alone. Roman didn’t even have the decency to meet me here to get me settled.

  “Cee?” Christy’s voice sounds as uncertain as I feel.

  “Uh, shit. Okay, I’m feeling it now.” I open the French doors that lead onto my private balcony and stare down at the pristine grounds. In the distance is nothing but a blanket of the greenest grass cut in a diagonal shaped pattern, beyond is a thick forest of trees that surround a cell tower. Closer to the house is a well-kept garden that screams southern opulence. Wisteria covers several trellises that canopy statuesque fountains. Hedges covered in trimmed honeysuckle trickle over sporadic fencing. The scent of several blooms wafts to my nose as the breeze hits me in hushed welcome. Plush seating is placed strategically throughout the manicured garden, which I decide will be my reading nook. The large, sparkling pool looks inviting, especially due to the budding summer heat, but I feel too ill at ease as a new resident of the palace to think of it for personal use. “God, this is weird.”

  “You’ve got this.”

  Her nervous tone is unsettling, and we’re both unsure at this point, which instills more fear in me.

  “I hope so.”

  “A little over a year and you’re home. You’re almost nineteen, Cee, if you hate it, you can leave.”

  “True.” It is the truth, but my agreement with Roman is a different story. If I go back on spending my time at the plant, I lose a fortune, a fortune that could erase my mother’s debt and set her up comfortably for the rest of her life. I can’t—won’t—do that to her. She’s worked herself stupid to care for me.

  Christy reads my hesitation.

  “This isn’t on you. It was her job to raise you, Cee. That’s the obligation of a parent, which you should never feel obligated to repay.”

  It’s true, and I know it, but as I survey Roman’s lifeless palace, I find myself missing her more than ever. Maybe it’s the distancing and treatment from my father that makes me feel such gratitude for her. Either way, I want to care for her. “I know my mother loves me,” I say more for myself than for Christy. Mom’s withdrawal, from life, from me, after all our years together was a cruel and confusing surprise.

  “Well, I for one, wouldn’t blame you if you liberated yourself. I love your mom and all, but they both seem worthless at this point.”

  “Roman is tolerable, strict, but we managed a few summers. Well, we managed to avoid each other for a few summers. I’m not looking to bond, just survive. This place feels…cold.”

  “You’ve never been there?”

  “No, not this house. He didn’t build it until after I stopped coming for the summers. I think he lives mostly out of his condo in Charlotte.” Across from my bedroom door a few feet away sits another. I open it, relieved to see it’s a guest room. To my left at the top of the stairs is a mezzanine overlooking the bottom floor foyer leading to a long corridor with more closed doors. “It’s going to be like living in a museum.”

  “I hate this.” She lets out a sigh, which is more like a whine, and I can feel her bitterness. We’ve been friends since middle school and haven’t been separated a day since we met. I don’t know how to do life without her, and quite frankly, I don’t want to. But for my mom’s well-being, I will. A little over a year in a sleepy town nestled in the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains and I’m free. I can only hope the time flies.

  “Just find yourself a distraction. Preferably one with a penis.”

  “That’s your solution?” I make my way back into my bedroom and onto the balcony.

  “You would know if you would give just one the time of day.”

  “I have, and you saw how that worked out.”

  “Those were boys, find a man. Just wait, girl. You’re going to tear that town up when they get a look at you.”

  “I couldn’t give a shit right now,” I stare at the spectacular mountain view just beyond the private forest. “I’m officially living on the opposite side of the coin. This is so weird.”

  “I can only imagine. Chin up. Call me after orientation tomorrow.”

  “’K.”

  “Love you.”

  CURSING LIKE A SAILOR, I park in the last row at the plant and quickly make my way through a sea of cars into the lobby. The last thing I need is a lecture on timeliness after a stale and uneventful dinner with my father last night. That hour or so I wa
s forced to spend under eagle-eyed scrutiny was enough to make me thankful for my new schedule, which will have me working most nights. The warmth of the sun disappears the second I pull open the glass doors. The building itself feels ancient. Though polished, the tile floors are cracking and peeling after decades of use. There’s a large potted fern in the middle of the lobby that gives a pretense of life somewhere inside, but upon closer inspection, I realize it’s fake and littered with cobwebs. A lone security guard that looks past his prime stands idly by as an older, well-dressed woman with shrewd grey eyes greets me from behind a front desk.

  “Hello, I’m Cecelia Horner. I’m here for orientation.”

  “I’m aware, Ms. Horner, last door on the left,” she replies, her eyes assessing my dress as she directs me to a long corridor. Dismissed, I take the steps, pass a few vacant offices and just in time, slip past a woman holding the door for the last of the newcomers. She greets me with a warm smile—the only warmth in the building apparently—as I shiver from the frigid indoor climate. She instructs me to fill out a name tag, and I do, sticking it on the sundress I opted to wear today before being bound to the drab uniform that waits in my closet. I feel the heavy stares of those already seated and choose the closest open desk.

  The room is dark, the only light from a projection screen that says ‘Welcome’ in bold letters with the Horner Technologies company logo across the bottom.

  I’ve never taken pride in my last name. As far as I can tell, I was a spill Roman made years ago that he had enough money to clean up. I have no illusions we’ll ever be close. He doesn’t look at me with the same cruel indifference as he does my mother from what I’ve gathered in the few encounters I’ve witnessed, but I’m most definitely an afterthought.

  Dinner last night was awkward to say the least, our conversation forced. Today I’m here to do his bidding. Another worker ant to add to his industrial farm. It’s like this is some attempt to teach me a life lesson that hard work pays off, but I’m no stranger to that. I’ve paid my way since I’ve been able to work, bought my first car, and made the insurance payments while balancing my own checkbook. I’ve got nothing to learn from him, that much I know. I have little doubt the longer I comply with his demands and agree with his plans for me, the more my resentment will grow.

  This is for Mom.

  The woman who greeted me at the door steps up to the front of the room and smiles. “Looks like most of us are here, so let’s begin. I’m Jackie Brown, yes like the movie,” none of us laugh, “and I’ve been working for Horner Tech for eight years. I’m the HR director, and I’m excited to welcome you to orientation. In an effort to get to know everyone, I would very much like if each of you stood and briefly introduced yourselves.”

  I’m in the first seat upfront, and she nods toward me. I reluctantly stand, not bothering to face the rest of the room and speak directly to her. “I’m Cecelia, not like the song. New in town. I’m just going to clear the air now and let you know my father owns this place, but I want no special treatment. And I promise not to narc if you take an extra cigarette break or like your afternoon delight in the janitor’s closet.”

  My introduction doesn’t go over well with Jackie Brown as she gapes at me, while a chuckle sounds up behind me. Taking my seat, I curse my inability to get through the first few minutes of orientation without my grudge rearing its ugly head. I should know better than to poke the bear on my first day and have no doubt my father will hear about this. But other than the inevitable repercussion, I’m having a hard time regretting it. I remind myself for the hundredth time that this is for Mom and vow to keep my attitude in check, at least until my probation period is over.

  “Next, you, behind her.”

  With the movement behind me, I catch a whiff of cedar before he speaks. “Sean, no relation to the man upstairs, and this is my second time working for Horner Tech. I left briefly. And I would very much enjoy some afternoon delight in the janitor’s closet.” Muffled laughter sounds throughout the room as the first smile I’ve been capable of in days, spreads over my face.

  I half turn in my seat and look over my shoulder to meet amused hazel eyes. The drag of his gaze over me has my skin prickling with awareness. Feet away, in the dim light, I’m able to appreciate the alluring outline of his features along with his incredible build, the stretch of his T-shirt across his pecs, and snug-fitting dark jeans before he takes his seat. We play a short game of stare off where I wait a few seconds past the awkward point before I turn back to face Jackie Brown.

  “Welcome back, Sean. Let’s refrain from making any more comments like that, shall we?”

  It takes a lot of effort to hide my grin, and I can still feel his gaze on me as one by one the room stands to introduce themselves.

  Maybe this won’t suck so bad after all.

  “HEY, AFTERNOON DELIGHT!” AN AMUSED chuckle sounds up behind me as I make my way through the parking lot, “Wait up!”

  Frown in place, I turn to see Sean sauntering toward me between a row of cars. Hands on my hips, I stare him down as he approaches, and then am forced to look up at him when he gets closer due to our difference in height.

  In the sparkling light of day, he’s far more impressive than I gave him original credit for, and I’m careful to control my gawk. His looks are—paralyzing—spiked two-toned dirty blond and platinum hair, sun-drenched skin, insane build, and hazel eyes with undecided dominance, a strong nose with a slight bump along the ridge ending with just the right flare. And his mouth, his mouth is enough in and of itself to keep my thirsty eyes busy. His tongue darts out, sliding against the ring tucked in the corner, showcasing his full bottom lip. His gaze glitters over me, along with a building smirk as I take my fill and then drift to his pronounced Adam’s apple, broad shoulders, and lower, and lower. A large tattoo covers the majority of his left arm, the dark black tip of a wing and feathers starting just above his elbow and looks like it ends at the base of his neck.

  “That’s not my name.”

  “Sorry,” a flash of teeth, “couldn’t resist.”

  “Try harder.”

  His chuckle sends a flutter across my skin. “Will do. That was pretty brave back there.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not looking forward to the job. It’s a condition of my sentence.”

  He frowns. “Sentence?”

  “Because of my last name. I’m being forced to work here for a year, so I’m deserving of it, I guess.” I shrug as if my bitterness hasn’t said too much on my behalf.

  “Hmm, you aren’t alone. I’m not thrilled about being back here either.” He’s older, I’m guessing somewhere in his mid-twenties, his presence impossible to ignore due to his insanely good looks and his scent is just as tempting—cedar and something else I can’t put my finger on. The vibe he’s throwing off is irresistible. The more he stands in the golden sun, the more he seems to absorb. It’s alarming just how much looking at him is unnerving me. But I don’t berate myself for it because his gaze is equally shameless. This morning, though my mood was grim, I’d dressed up, and I’m glad I made an effort as I face off with Sean in a knee-length halter sundress, black with small white polka dots. I’d left my hair down, and it lays straightened over my shoulders. I’d spent extra time on my lashes and heavily glossed my lips, which I lick under his stare, and his eyes drop.

  “Cecelia, right?”

  I nod.

  “So, what are you doing now?”

  “Why?”

  He runs a hand through his messy spiked mane. “You’re new in town, right? My roommates and I have a spot a few miles away. We’re having a few friends over today, and I thought you might want to come.”

  “Yeah, I’m going to pass.”

  He tilts his head, amused by my fast answer. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know you.”

  “That’s the point of the invite.” His mouth might be moving with pleasantries, but his eyes are devouring me in a way I’m not entirely comfortable with.


  “That crack I made back there might have given you the wrong impression about me.”

  “I’m making no assumptions, swear,” he holds up his palms, where a heavily inked ace on his right wrist poses as a permanent top card up his sleeve.

  Clever.

  He winks, and it feels like a kiss on the cheek. All I have to look forward to at home is a swim and a book. And I have a feeling I’ll be doing that for most of the summer. I look him over carefully and hold out my hand.

  “Let me see your driver’s license.”

  Thick blond brow raised, he pulls out his wallet and hands me his license. I take the offered card and eye it and him as a cigarette appears, dangling between his lips before he strikes a black titanium Zippo, and I flick my attention back to his ID.

  “You are aware you’re the last smoker, right?”

  “Someone’s got to keep up my old man’s bad habits,” he says on an exhale.

  “Alfred Sean Roberts, twenty-five, and a Virgo.” I take a picture of his license and shoot off a text to Christy.

  If I wind up dead, this dude did it.

  The response bubbles start immediately, and I know she’s going insane. The picture does little credit to the real thing. His looks are jarring and seem out of place here.

  “Sending out a safety net?” he asks, reading my move.

  “Exactly,” I hand him back his license. “If I don’t make it home, you’re suspect number one.”

  He seems to mull over my statement. “Do you party?”

  “In what sense?”

  “In every sense.”

  “Not really, no.”

  He looks at me with such…intensity, new hesitation in his posture, as if weighing whether or not to take back his invitation. Despite being slightly offended, I decide to make it easy on him. “I guess that’s a dealbreaker? Don’t worry about it, see you around—”