Hood Rat Read online

  I’d already been taking care of Carter and Hailey since I was about seven years old. My parents loved to party, but instead of paying a babysitter, they had me. And then Max came along and Dad left. He was convinced Max wasn’t his, or so he’d said. Personally, I think he was just looking for an excuse to bail, and when Max was born with dark hair instead of the blond locks he, myself, Hailey, and Carter had, he did.

  The day he left, whatever motherly instincts my mom had possessed, disappeared entirely. She drank more. She partied more. She started bringing strange men into our home at all hours of the day and night.

  Her leaving had been a blessing, really. She was one less mouth I had to feed, and I didn’t have to worry anymore about her breaking into the meager savings I’d had stored under the loose floorboard in my room to feed her alcohol addiction. I’d seen her once in five years, and that had been on my eighteenth birthday.

  I’d tracked her down at an old run-down bar on the other side of the city. She’d been wasted, hanging off the arm of some fat biker wannabe, her tits practically popping out of her low-cut blouse. She had smiled so big when she’d seen me standing there, then wrapped her arms around me like I’d once prayed she would do when I was a child.

  This time was different, though. I didn’t know this woman. She wasn’t a mother to me, and she’d certainly never been one to Carter, Max, and Hailey. It was all I could do to pull her off of me and ask her to sign the papers granting me legal guardianship of my siblings.

  I don’t know what I’d expected. Tears? Maybe an argument? I definitely hadn’t planned for her to just shrug her shoulders and snatch the pen out of my hand. She’d signed those papers without a second thought. In her mind, she’d just been given a get-out-of-jail-free card. In mine, I’d just saved my family.

  “Heard Krista was harassing Hailey again,” Carter says, yanking me out of the memory.

  “Yeah, got called in by the social worker this afternoon.”

  Carter looks up from his drawing. “The hot one?”

  I smirk. Carter may be distant, but he doesn’t miss much when it comes to the ladies. And yes, Miss Addington is definitely a very attractive woman. Too bad she may as well be from Mars. “The one that looks like she wipes her ass with hundred-dollar bills?”

  Carter chuckles. “Yeah, that’s the one. Today was her first day, I guess.”

  “It was obvious.”

  “Ralphie says she pulled up this morning in a fucking Lexus. She’s lucky she didn’t get jacked.”

  This new information doesn’t come as a surprise. Of course, a woman like that would drive a Lexus. I just hope she doesn’t learn the hard way that people around here don’t see cars like that in this neighborhood.

  “You get your homework done?” I ask, looking for any topic other than the uppity social worker.

  Carter rolls his eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

  “Good. Dinner’s in an hour.”

  Before heading to my bedroom, I peek in on Max. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, his Legos scattered across the threadbare carpet in front of him, watching cartoons on the television. The kid turns into a zombie as soon as his shows come on.

  Dashing up the stairs, I step into my room and close the door. Digging my phone out of my back pocket, I open the web browser and pray I have enough data left. A quick search through the local job listings comes up empty, just as it did the other two times I’d checked it today. The same as the million and three times I’d checked it over the past few weeks.

  Without a thermostat, there’s no way to know what the temperature is inside this house, but it’s cold nonetheless. You can’t see your breath, but it’s cold enough for us all to be sleeping in layers tonight.

  I’m out of options, I think to myself as I close down the browser and pull up my contact list. I scroll down to my best friend’s number and press the green button. My guts churn as I listen to the ringing on the other end, and then he answers.

  “Hey, asshole. What’s up?”

  His question is rhetorical, as it always is. But this time, I have a reason for calling. One I’d sworn to myself I’d never do.

  “Uh…” I scrub my hand along the back of my neck. “I was wondering if you had any work for me?”

  Zack pauses on the other end, taken aback by my question. “Fuck me, man. You serious?”

  Am I?

  I glance over to the stack of unpaid bills on my dresser. “I’m serious. I need cash and I need it now. What have you got for me?”

  Zack laughs. “Oh, homeboy, have I got a gig for you.”

  His statement is music to my ears. So, why do I feel like I’m going to puke?

  Three

  Georgia

  Growing up, I knew that I was awarded a great many privileges that most people would never have. A top-notch education, world travel, a black credit card with zero boundaries. But, if I had learned one thing on my first day here on this side of the city, it’s that I have been incredibly sheltered.

  “You okay?” Janet asks from the passenger seat of my car.

  Tearing my eyes away from the woman in her pajamas, I turn and paste on a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

  Janet’s soft giggle floats throughout the interior of the car. “You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

  “No!” I protest. “No, I just…” I watch as a woman pushes a silver and blue shopping cart through the parking lot with two kids in the cart, and a cigarette dangling from her lips. Janet raises a brow and I sigh, slumping back in my seat. “Okay, yes. Maybe a little.”

  Janet giggles again. “If that woman freaks you out, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

  My gaze slides back to the mother and her brood, just as she disappears through the sliding doors of the enormous building, tossing her cigarette on the pavement before she steps inside. This is what you wanted, Georgia. You wanted to help this community, and you can’t do that if you don’t understand it.

  With a sheepish grin, I look at Janet. “I’ve never been to a Walmart before.”

  Janet’s brows lift at the admission, but she quickly recovers. “Oh, this is going to be fun.” Reaching for the door handle, she pops it open and steps outside. “Come on! We have some shopping to do!”

  She doesn’t wait for me, and by the time I get out of the car and beep the locks, she’s already halfway to the front doors. Picking up the pace, I half-run, half-walk to meet up with her. “I know it’s silly,” I say when I finally reach her side. “I’ve actually never even really gone shopping. My mother has a personal shopper, and she’s always just sent my clothes and stuff to the house.”

  The doors sweep open as we approach, and Janet moves to the long row of carts to the right of the entrance. She pulls one free and heads through a second set of doors. “Can I ask you something?”

  Following along beside her, my head swivels, taking in the giant store. There are sections for groceries, clothes, electronics, and toys. I’ve never seen anything like it. “Anything.”

  “Why are you here?” When she sees the frown on my face, she rephrases. “Not here, as in this store right now, but here, as in, why are you working at the center?”

  Entering the clothing section, she stops the cart, her hands riffling through a tall rack of shirts. I move to the other side of the rack and start going through the hangers, not really seeing any of them as I try to think of the best way to answer her. I’d never even met Janet before today, and if I’m being honest with myself, I’m a little embarrassed at my own naivety.

  “A few years ago, my father took me on a business trip with him to Africa—Morocco, actually.” I stop riffling and watch her as I speak. She watches me, the curiosity on her face void of any judgement, encouraging me to continue. “It’s one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. But the people…” I sigh. “The people there are so poor. I mean, there are so many exquisite homes and shops and places for the rich to kick back on a holiday, but the Moroccan people don’t get to enjoy any of
that.”

  I shake my head at the memory. “I didn’t spend any time amongst them. I don’t even think my father noticed. He was working on his laptop in the back of this fancy car he’d rented when we passed this little village. The houses were crumbling and covered in tarps to keep out the rain. From a distance, it looked a lot like a junkyard. It wasn’t until we got up close that I realized those heaps were people’s homes.”

  I pull a soft blue shirt from the rack and put it in the shopping cart. “I couldn’t get that village out of my head, even after we got back to the States. All I kept thinking was how fortunate I was, and how hard it must be for those people. And really, what have I done with my life to deserve the wealth I’ve been given?”

  “So you decided to make a difference here,” Janet surmises, understanding clear in her expression.

  I nod. “That village opened my eyes, and when we got home, I saw things differently than I had before we left. I was just about to go to University, and my father was dead set on me going to medical school. That had always been the plan, even though I’d never really wanted to become a doctor. But after looking around at the poverty in our own country, I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t live my life according to some predetermined plan. I needed to do something meaningful, to make a difference, no matter how small. It was the first time I’ve ever gone against his wishes.”

  “Wow,” Janet breathes. “That’s kind of huge.”

  I’ve tried to explain my reasons for taking this path to people before, but Janet is the first one to look at me like she gets it. Like she actually respects my choices and understands why I’ve made the decisions I’ve made.

  “You have no idea,” I say, pulling a pale pink blouse off the rack and holding it out toward her. “But enough with the heavy stuff. We’re here to shop! And this shirt with a pair of jeans would look fabulous on you.”

  Janet wrinkles her nose as she slowly takes the hanger from my hand, looking at the shirt as if I’d just handed her a clown costume and told her to put it on. “It’s not really my style.”

  Once again, I take in Janet’s baggy sweater and jeans. “It’s my turn to ask you something.”

  “Okay…” She doesn’t sound entirely sure that she likes where I’m taking this conversation.

  “You’re beautiful.” Janet’s freckled cheeks turn an instant shade of red, and suddenly, I’m not so sure I should ask her my question. How do you phrase something without offending someone? But Janet has been nothing but straight with me. I owe her the same courtesy. “I’m just curious why you hide yourself under all of those clothes?”

  I knew my question was risky when I asked it, but what I hadn’t counted on was the sadness and shame I saw staring back at me from behind Janet’s glasses. Her face is awash with sadness as she turns her body from mine, hiding her face, but not before I see the tears forming in her eyes. “Oh, God,” I say, rushing around the clothing rack, wishing I could turn back time and cram my question back into my mouth before I’d asked it.

  “Janet, I’m so sorry. I never should have—”

  “No, it’s okay,” she sniffs, turning to look at me with an expression that nearly breaks my heart. “Let’s just say that this,”—she gestures around us—“is the life I grew up in. I became a social worker to help kids growing up in rotten houses, to save them from living the life I lived.”

  The shakiness of her voice betrays the emotions she’s trying so hard to fight back, and even though I don’t know her story, I know it’s one filled with pain and heartache, and there isn’t a thing I can say to make her feel better.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, placing a hand on her arm. “My question was insensitive and presumptuous. It was rude of me to ask.”

  Janet smiles then, sadness mixing with kindness. “It was no different than the question I asked you first. And you’re right, anyway. I do hide under these clothes.” She holds up the pink shirt I’d given her and gazes at it. “Maybe it’s time I try to change the way I live my life too.”

  Picking up the blue shirt I’d placed in the cart, I turn to face the fingerprint smudged mirror to our right, grabbing her arm to face her in that direction too. Holding the shirt against my chest, I grin at her in the mirror. “Looks like we have some shopping to do.”

  Four

  Georgia

  “Use the other fork, dear,” my mother scolds gently, aiming a phony smile in Benjamin’s direction. “She never did learn which fork goes with which course.”

  Her apology annoys me. She’s right about me not knowing my cutlery, but Benjamin is my fiancé, not some dignitary visiting from a foreign country I must impress. Why does it even matter when it’s just a family dinner for the four of us?

  I pick up my salad fork and spear a piece of lettuce on its tines. “So, Daddy,” I say, hoping to steer the subject in any other possible direction. “Did you get that deal you were working on?”

  “Of course he did,” my mother huffs, with a haughty set to her shoulders. “Your father always gets his deal.”

  I glance over at her, fighting the urge to roll my eyes, and then look back to my father who, like me, appears to wish he were anywhere but sitting at this table right now. “Signed the papers just today,” he tells me. I watch as he reaches for the nearly empty glass of scotch in front of him, and drains the remainder of it in one large gulp.

  My parents are a mystery to me. How can two people that are so completely opposite stay married for more than twenty-five years? Or even stranger still, how did they get together in the first place?

  My father is a businessman who’s made his fortune selling advertising to big media companies. He’s good at what he does, and with the voraciousness in which he throws himself into it, I’d hazard to say he even loves his job. He enjoys the simple things in life, and doesn’t throw his wealth around like some of the people I know.

  My mother, on the other hand, is a classic socialite. She’s a member of the most exclusive societies, buys only the most expensive clothing, attends every gala and ball she can, and is obsessed with perfection in all things. It’s exhausting.

  “Benjamin,” my mother spoke up, turning her scrutinizing gaze away from my father, filling her voice with a false kindness that sets my teeth on edge. “Did you get your invite to the gala at the museum?”

  “I did,” he replies. “Next Tuesday, right?”

  That gets my attention. “Next Tuesday? I can’t do a Tuesday.”

  Benjamin looks at me, his brows lifted in surprise.

  “That’s preposterous, dear,” my mother scoffs. “You must go. Benjamin has a duty to his firm to attend, and there will be the expectation that his fiancée is on his arm.”

  I ignore her and speak only to Benjamin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I already volunteered to run the youth program on Tuesday nights until ten o’clock. There’s nobody else that can do it, and I have to be there.”

  Not a single muscle shifts on Benjamin’s handsome face as he continues to stare at me. Unease creeps along my spine as I wait for him to say something, but it never comes. Not from him, anyway.

  “Tuesday nights?” my mother cries. “On the South Side? You must be joking. You’ll be mugged!” She shakes her head, her perfectly coiffed hair not moving even a fraction of an inch. “I think you know how much I dislike you taking this job.”

  “Lillian…” my father warns, but he and I both know his warning is falling on deaf ears.

  “It’s true!” she cries. “A woman of your status should never even set foot on the South Side, let alone work there. You have a black eye after working there just one day, for goodness sake! Why you turned down Harvard is beyond me, but I can’t sit by as you endanger yourself on a daily basis without at least letting you know I don’t approve.”

  “You’ve made that perfectly clear, Mother, time and time again,” I assure her. “But it’s not that bad down there. They need more people to help them improve their community instead of everyone just avoid
ing it and pretending the issues they face are their own.”

  “They are their own,” Benjamin interjects. “It’s not my problem they have such a high crime rate, or that most of the people down there are drug addicts. I didn’t choose that life for myself, nor did you.”

  I stare at him, my mouth agape. I’ve known Benjamin my whole life. Our parents had been friends since we were just children, but for the first time, I realize that I may not know him as well as I’d thought. “Are you serious? You didn’t choose that life? So, you’re telling me you chose to be a rich man’s son who was offered every opportunity in the world to succeed? That wasn’t a choice, Benjamin. That was a lucky break.”

  I watch as his nostrils flare with an anger I’ve had yet to see from him, but he says nothing more. Instead, he raises his stark white napkin and wipes his mouth before standing. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Addington. I’ve just remembered I have some work left to do this evening, and I really should be getting to that,” he advises, his voice a perfect pitch of calm and decorum.

  “Thank you for the lovely dinner.”

  They both give him a gracious nod, and I can feel my mother’s eyes burning holes into me as I stare up at Benjamin in shock. Even after all the times I’d spoken to him about my goals, he’d never once given me the impression he felt so superior to the people on the less fortunate side of town.

  “Georgia,” he says in a cool tone, and then he walks out of the room.

  I stare after him toward the empty doorway, words completely escaping me. Benjamin and I have been a couple for more than three years now, and I had never once seen him behave the way he just did. We’ve never really argued before, though, now that I think of it. But we didn’t argue just then either, did we? He’d just gotten up and left.

  “Really,” Mother mutters, her voice laced with disapproval, but it’s not Benjamin she’s referring to. Her eyes are zeroed in on me. “To argue with your fiancé in the company of others. That was uncalled for, Georgia Rose. Benjamin must be mortified.”