Trey
It has been two weeks since I last saw Kiara. Other than going to the airport to see Candy off (somehow she managed to afford a flight within a week of her and Mom's fight). She even avoided eye contact and rushed out of the building once my sister departed.
I thought that kiss would've meant something to her. It meant every damn thing to me, but she's still set on pretending her feelings for me don't exist. If anything, I'm a patient man. I'm hoping in time, she'll see that I'm worth the risk too.

As I'm wrapping up food prep for dinner service tonight, my phone starts ringing. I don't recognize the number, but it has the 757 area code, so I decide to pick up and pray it's not somebody calling about my car's extended warranty.
"Hello?"
"Hello, this is Principle Evans from Princess Anne High School. Are you the parent or guardian of Jeremiah Thompson?"
"Yes," I clench my jaw tightly. Looks like Mom's not answering, and Candy's in New York, so I guess I'm next in line.
"Jeremiah is being suspended for fighting on school grounds. Is it possible for you to pick him up?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose, groaning.

Fuck J, what did you do now?
"Of course. I'll be there shortly."
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It turns out this isn't Jeremiah's first offense, so although I argued with the principal to reduce his sentence, it didn't get us anywhere. He got himself into a full-blown brawl with three other students, and now he's facing a week-long suspension. He's silent as I drive home where our furious mother waits for him to arrive. When she finally called back in the principals office, she started cussing him out over the speaker. If I was embarrassed, I can only imagine how he must have felt.

"J, what's going on? Why have you been in five fights this school year? You're not going to graduate on time if you keep this up," I ask, feeling frustrated.
I didn't want my siblings to go down my path. I can tell he's bottling up so much anger. It's only a matter of time before he explodes, and he won't have the same reasons to fix his mistakes as I did. Who knows what it will take to bring him back.
He scoffs. "Why do you care?"
I take a quick look and notice that he's got his hood on and is gazing out the window. His left eye looks nearly swollen shut as he holds an ice pack to it. "What does that mean? You think I'm not supposed to care as your big brother?"
"Why don't you just head back to Texas? Why'd you even come back?"
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, the color draining from my knuckles. Gritting my teeth, I say, "I only left to make sure our family was taken care of. If you're angry at me because you can no longer do what you want while Mom is too hungover to deal with you, get used to it. I'm here to stay, and I'm going to make sure you graduate."
"You're not my fucking father, Trey! Stop trying to act like it when you're the one who ran him away!" he yells.
The car slams to a halt by the roadside. "Who the hell told you that?" I growl.
His emerald eyes, filled with anger, brim with tears. "It was my mom, during one of her rougher nights. She said our lives would've been better if you hadn't called the cops on Dad."
The truth stings, but it's not like I didn't know how she felt. "Do you even know why I did that?" I ask, struggling to control my anger.
He shakes his head. "Mom said he was a good man."
Of course she spewed that bullshit to him.
I let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, a so-called 'good man' who abused her constantly. I didn't call the police just because he was hitting on me, but because I knew if I didn't, he would've killed her that night."
He gives me a look like he doesn't believe a word I'm saying, his jaw tightly clenched. "You're lying. There's no way Mom would've stayed with him if he laid a hand on her," he insists.
"So why would he ran from the police then? What else would I have gained from calling them?"
He casually shrugs and says, "Who knows? Maybe you thought since you didn't have a dad, we shouldn't have one either."
That's the furthest thing from the truth, I did it to protect all of us from William, but it's not his fault he only heard one side of the story.
I nod to myself. Fine. If he wants to see his dad, let's go see him.
I drive back onto the road, flipping a bitch, and heading the opposite way. I don't need a GPS because I've gone here numerous times, but never could confront him. Just the thought of seeing him again boils my blood, and I always worried that I wouldn't be able to stop myself from beating the living hell out of him once I saw his face. But I'll do this to show my brother why his life was better off without him.
I drive through the trailer park and stop in front of the familiar, old trailer. "Where are we?" Jeremiah asks.
I shut off the engine and lean back in my seat, nodding towards the trailer. "If you want to meet your father, he's right in there."
"Right there?" he repeats in awe. He's silent for a long moment, staring at the trailer with wide eyes.
All it took was a quick Google search to find his address and not to mention a list of public crimes he has been arrested for including shoplifting and domestic assault and battery.
Jeremiah finally breaks the silence with a heavy sigh. "Trey, are you gonna come with me?"
"No. Like you said he's not my dad."
Plus, if I see that man again, I just might kill him.
Jeremiah shoots me a pleading look, his eyes filled with that same innocent charm he used on me often when we were kids. "Please. Come with me, Trey."
I can feel my heart soften as I meet his gaze. "Alright, J. I'll come," I reluctantly agree. A satisfied smile appears on his face as we step out of the car. "Just so you know, those innocent eyes won't sway me anymore. I'm only going because I don't trust him."
I enjoy witnessing that smile, a sight I haven't seen since I've been back. However, it's about to be wiped right off his face once he realizes his father is a shit stain.
I let out a sigh of relief when he knocks twice and there's no response. But just as we're about to leave, the door creaks open, and there she is—a woman barely dressed, her pupils like big, dark saucers. Her hair is a mess, and she's so thin that her nightshirt keeps slipping off her shoulders. I notice her pulling down the sleeves, but she doesn't bother hiding the cuts and bruises on her face. Slurring her words, she asks, "What do you want?" She gives us a once-over, running her hand down J's arm, and licks her lips. "Well, hello there, handsome. What's your name?" she asks seductively.
"A minor. Don't fucking touch him," I growl, yanking him away by his elbow. "We're looking for William Thompson. Is he here?"
"Why? Are you the feds?"
"No. I'm his son," Jeremiah responds.
If we were, the guilt on her face speaks for itself.
She gives an exasperated eye roll. "Willy! There's some kids here to see you!" she shouts towards the back of the trailer.
He lets out a deep, rumbling groan, sounding like a bear emerging from its cave. The door opens wider, and I struggle to recognize the man standing before me. He's got a beer belly, partially concealed by a worn-out, once-white beater that's now a bit black and gray. He's wearing boxers with his flaccid dick nearly hanging out of them.
Well, I'm never going to get that image out of my head.
"Who the fuck are you?" he snarls, giving us a fierce glare. His face looks worn, like he's been through hell and back. His once full head of brown hair is now a tightly-curled mess at the back of his head.
I thought I was going to be angry when I saw him, but I just feel...numb. His life is poor and pathetic, and has obviously only gotten worse since the night he left. I might actually even pity the bastard.
Jeremiah clears his throat, waving his hand awkwardly. "Hey Dad, it's me Jeremiah."
He narrows his eyes before belching loudly in our faces, the stench of beer wafting in my nostrils. "Maggie's kid? I've paid my child support for this month, what the fuck do you want?"
Fucking fantastic. So Mom was getting child support, my money, Candy's money, and money from her job and she still couldn't stay on top of the bills?
"M-Mom said she didn't know where you lived, but I've always wanted to meet you," J stammers, "I hope we can have a relationship now."
"That lying, scheming bitch knows exactly where I live!" he growls, his face contorted with rage. I'm about to cuss him out, but J steps in, firmly saying, "Hey, don't talk about my mom like that!"
He lets out a raspy chuckle, coughing as he does so. "My bad. How 'bout you come inside?"
I really fucking prefer we not do that.
Trey takes a step forward, but I grab him. "J, Mom is expecting us. We should really be going." By the tone of my voice, he knows it's not a suggestion.
William's lips curl into a wicked smirk. "C'mon Trey, I haven't seen my boy in 17 years. I wanna spend some time with him."
We enter his trailer, which is musty and filled with trash and filth. I hover near the couch while Jeremiah plops down next to William. "Boy, you wanna sandwich or somethin'?" he asks.
"I'm okay," he responds quietly.
"Bitch, go make me a sandwich. Pastrami with extra mustard, the way I like it." As she heads to the kitchen area of the cramped trailer, he smacks her ass.
Hearing the way he speaks to her makes my jaw tighten. Nothing has changed about him in all these years. I can't help but feel sorry for whoever this woman is and whatever situation she's in that forces her to accept his blatant disrespect.
After an uncomfortable silence that lasts about ten to fifteen minutes, the woman finally brings him the sandwich. He eats it while fixated on an old football game playing on the box TV.
God, what decade am I in? How does this shit still even work? I wonder to myself.
After downing five cans of beer, William finally speaks again. "So, how'd ya get that black eye, son?" he asks, pretending to be concerned.
"Got into a fight today," J mumbles.
He flashes a grin. "That's my boy. Ya know, I was a bad boy myself back in the day, the ladies loved it." He points to the television. "That's yours truly, number 22. I was one of the best running backs at Virginia Tech in '93!"
Now he's just an alcoholic, lowlife abuser rotting away in a trailer.
That explains why he still has this tv. He's still trying to live in his glory days before his life turned from sugar to shit.
Jeremiah's eyes widen with excitement. "Seriously? I'm a football player too!" he bursts out.
He claps him on the back. "My boy!" he shouts a little too loudly, making me cringe. It reminds me of when he used to yell at me as a kid, and I fucking hate that I even reacted to it at all. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to notice, or even acknowledge me at all.
"Hey, Son, I'd love to be at your games and see ya more, but your mom's takin' most of my paycheck. Can ya help your pops out a bit?"
William puts on a pitiful expression, his signature look when he's scheming to evoke sympathy from others and scheme them out of their money.
I just knew this was coming sooner or later. Only a piece of shit attempts to do it on the first time he sees his own son since he was a baby.