Mangled Hearts Read online

  My father continued to yell at me. I laid the phone down on the table, and went back to drinking my beer. My old man was annoying on a good day, but when I got in trouble, it multiplied in tenfold. “Cade, grow up. Cade, stop doing this stupid shit. Cade, I’m not bailing you out again.” I heard the same lectures and threats every time, yet he always got one of his big lawyer buddies to get me out of the bind. And he always sent money so I could survive. The threats were all empty, and didn’t mean anything to me anymore.

  I started sneaking his alcohol when I was ten, just for fun. By age thirteen, I was an alcoholic. I barely passed high school. My friends, if I could even call them that, only came around when they needed me to do something for them, which usually involved drugs or alcohol. Or money. Yeah, money was a big reason people contacted me. Only one person had ever cared, but I’d ruined that long ago.

  I picked up the phone, hearing silence. “You still there?” I asked.

  I heard a heavy sigh come from my father. “You didn’t listen to anything I said, did you?”

  “Can’t say that I did, Pops. I’m tired of hearing the same thing. Just send over that hot-shot jackass guy that’s gonna bail me out and let’s get it over with.”

  “Cade, they’re sending a young lady. Can you please be nice to her?” he asked, desperation in his voice.

  I smiled. A hot-shot lawyer lady. This could be fun for me. It had been awhile since I’d had a nice woman take me to bed, so I’d have to clean up before our meeting. “Yeah, Pops. I’ll be real nice to her. When’s the meeting?”

  “Her office assistant, Zander, will call you by the end of the day to set up a time. Be sure you answer.” He hung up before saying goodbye.

  I threw the phone down on the couch beside me. I leaned back, closing my eyes to savor the almost drunk high I was feeling. I wasn’t quite tipsy, but I was definitely on the verge. I sipped my drink, the liquid sliding down my throat. It didn’t sting like liquor, but it warmed me all over. I was on my fifth of the day, and it was only a little after noon. Drinking numbed me all over. Helped rid all the emotions I didn’t want to feel from my body. Unfortunately, when the alcohol wore off, the feelings hit me like a Mack truck. So I did my best to keep it in me at all times. If that wasn’t enough, then I would add nerve pills. Between the two, I could forget everything around me. Swallowing the rest of the drink, I leaned my head back to rest until I got the dreaded phone call.

  The echoing of a fist on my door woke me from my drunken state. Rolling off the couch, I cursed whoever was on the other side of my door. Gripping the coffee table, I pulled myself to my feet. Stumbling forward, I yelled, “One second!”

  “Dammit, Cade! What is wrong with you?” I heard my father respond back.

  Damn. He was here. I flung the door open, holding my head. It throbbed like someone was inside beating it with a hammer. “What is it, Dad?”

  He pushed past me, causing me to fall back on the wall behind me. Kicking the door closed, I glared at his back. He knew the best way to piss me off, and seemed to be doing so on purpose.

  “You didn’t answer your phone. The firm called me saying Zander couldn’t get ahold of you. Can’t you do that one thing for me?” He stared at me accusingly.

  I didn’t say anything, only shrugged my shoulders.

  “Well, I made the appointment for you. Tomorrow at 9 a.m. Surely you can be sober that early?”

  “Dunno, Dad, Depends on how much I have tonight before I got to bed,” I smirked at him.

  He stomped to my kitchen, and before I knew what was happening, came rumbling back in the room with a pitcher of water. I was too unsteady to fight him off and he drenched me in seconds. I shook the water off, clenching my fists. This wouldn’t be the first time I hit my dad, and if he kept this up, it wouldn’t be the last. I moved forward, but he bested me and pinned both my arms behind my back.

  “Listen to me, Cade. You are twenty seven years old. It’s time to grow up. You’re going home with me, you’re going to sober up, and you’re going to be professional tomorrow at that meeting.” His fingers tightened around my upper arms, making me flinch in pain.

  Derek Kelling was stronger than most men, his build one to rival a pro-wrestler. He stood at least four inches taller than I, at about 6 foot 5 inches. My younger brother, Cason, resembled him the most. Both possessed dark blonde hair and hazel eyes. Cason got his height, too. I think I looked more like my mother with brown hair and blue eyes. I regularly described my eyes as dull, though others in the past have disagreed. The dullness reflected my life. Nothing really mattered. I disappointed most everyone I met. I wasn’t even sure it was worth going on.

  “Can you let me go, Pops?” I asked, venom dripping off my tongue. Being manhandled wasn’t a favorite pastime of mine. The current legal trouble I was in proved that.

  “I’ll let your ass go to jail if you hit me, Cade,” he said as he loosened his grip. Stepping back, he crossed his arms and looked down at me. “Now, go get some clothes for tomorrow and let’s go. Your mother is probably wondering where I am.”

  Gritting my teeth, I headed to the bedroom to find something suitable for the meeting. I kicked the large pile of laundry in the corner, looking for the navy slacks my mom bought me a couple of months ago. I slumped to my knees, rummaging through everything.

  “Don’t you have any ounce of responsibility? You can’t even fold your laundry? Just come on, you can borrow something of mine.”

  “It’ll be too big.”

  “I doubt the attorney will mind. She’s going to be more worried about your attitude.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I struggled to stand. “I’m sorry you hate me, but seriously, get over yourself. Not everyone thinks I’m this huge screw up. But just remember, you raised me, so it’s not all my fault.” I gripped the dresser, pulling myself horizontal. I moved to the bed, sitting for a moment. Most of the room was hazy, but I didn’t want him to know that. I tugged the phone charger from the wall and stuffed it in my pocket. I stood, threw my hands up, and said, “Lead the way.” He grunted in reply. He was to the door in seconds, not even looking back to see if I was following. I plucked the phone from the floor and followed him to his car.

  This was going to be a blast, I could tell.

  The ride to my parents’ home was awkward and uneventful. Pops didn’t talk to me at all, only stared straight ahead at the road. His face hard, looking like he was a statue. I twiddled my thumbs, mostly because I knew that’s the most he expected of me. The lights blurred by, inching us closer to our destination. I watched them pass, making myself dizzy. Drinking made me have a don’t-give-a-damn attitude, but at the moment, I wished I hadn’t had so much.

  “Pops, might wanna pull over,” I stated before throwing my door open. The vomit came fast and hard. My stomach clenched over and over. He barely got the car stopped in time. He cursed beside me, hitting the steering wheel with his fist. When it finally stopped, I pulled my upper body back in, slamming the door. He glared at me, and I just shrugged. “Sorry. We can go now.” He huffed and drove on.

  The road housing the home I grew up in came into view. The street lamps shone an eerie glow on the road, making it look like the shadows were jumping out at me. The long arms of the trees appeared to be grabbing at the car, ready to capture me away from the awaited hell I was driving into. The large, wooden log cabin came into view. The property was large, my parents didn’t half do anything, with large trees scattered throughout the fifteen acres of land. I glanced at the one holding my long forgotten tree house, remember the times I snuck girls up there when I was a teen. Over a few feet was the weeping willow I would run to every time I fought with my dad about something when I was little. It was there that I snuck my first drink of alcohol. Stole it right out from under his stuck up nose.

  The car slid into the drive, and the garage opened instantly. I saw my mom standing just inside, her hand over her heart. A dramatic one, she was. Sh
e was petite and skinny, barely reaching my chest. I shot up in height when I was twelve and had towered over her ever since. She’d always held a soft spot for me. I don’t know if it was because I looked like her or because my father had always seemed to hate me. He claimed it was her fault I was such a screw up, because she babied me too much.

  Like he knew anything.

  She hurried to the door, opening it before I could get my hand to the handle. “Oh, Cade! I’ve missed you, honey.”

  I stumbled out, grasping her in an awkward hug. She squeezed tightly, then leaned back to look into my eyes. Embarrassed by her knowing expression, I darted my eyes to the wall behind her. She placed her hand on my back, pushing me forward. My hand held the car for support. I could hear my father grumbling and mumbling on the other side, but I ignored it.

  “Let’s get you something to eat,” she softly said, patting my shoulder.

  I smiled at her and nodded. Maybe Pops was right and she did baby me. But he was wrong about it being her fault that I was a screw up. That was all on his shoulders.