All In (12 page)

“Atta girl, Brenda,” I whispered before letting myself inside.

I smiled when I walked in and was greeted with the smell of vanilla and lavender. She had cleaned the entire place and aired it out. She had swept, mopped, dusted, and scrubbed the kitchen. It is amazing what a little bit of reality can do to a person.

I quietly sat down on her couch staring at the kitchen table where Vice and I had sat together the first time I had met Brenda. Right then, the reality of Vice and I breaking up hit me in the chest like a ton of bricks. I started to cry, bringing my knees to my chest. This was all of my own fault. I should have told Vice the truth when I had first met him not giving a shit what my brother had to say about it. Then, Vice wouldn't have thought a thing about it as Chase hadn't been bothering him yet. I thought I had handled this situation the best I could at the time. I never intended to fall in love with Vice, it just happened and no one in this entire world can control who it is that we fall in love with. I am still the same person that Vice has known for the last four years... I just have to prove it to him.

“Harlow Jean,” I heard Brenda say from next to me. Her hand lightly shaking my leg.

I finally fell asleep sometime around five in the morning, using my black duffel bag as a pillow. My neck was extremely sore, so were my eyes.

“Hi, Brenda,” I gave her a smile sitting up slowly, rubbing the back of my neck.

“That can't be the greatest pillow in the world, my dear,” she giggled.

“Yeah, hardly,” I agreed, working the kinks out.

“Not that I don't want you here, I absolutely do. But, why are you here? What happened, Harlow?” Brenda asked knowingly.

I felt the tears from last night coming back with a vengeance. “I just-” I sobbed, not being able to talk.

“It's okay,” she wrapped her arm around my shoulder, holding me close smelling of flowers. “You will tell me when you want to,” I nodded.

“You are welcome to stay with me as long as you'd like to, you hear me?” I nodded again, against her chest as I cried.

“Well, I don't have another bed, and the couch isn't that comfortable. But I make a bad ass cup of Joe,” she said with a smile.

“That's okay...” I sat up, sniffing and wiping my tears. I felt like I needed to get out on the town. Go somewhere, do something to get my mind off of Vice for awhile. “Do you like to shop?” I sniffed again. “Or I don't know...” I touched her jet black hair. “maybe a day at the salon, add some color?”

“I am a woman, of course I like to shop, but, I spent the rest of the money that Vice gave me to pay off my debts. Saying goodbye to my old ways, ya' know,” she stared at the floor smiling. “I don't want to owe anyone anything anymore with this new start,” she nudged me with her knee.

“I'm proud of you, Brenda,” I smiled at her. “And I know Vice will be proud of you, too,”

“Thank you,” she started to cry.

“Oh, no... no more crying. Today is a good day. Go get ready and lets go,” I hopped off of the couch.

“But I-” she wiped her tears.

“No worries about the money,” I bent toward the couch picking up my black duffel bag. I unzipped it and dumped the fifty million onto the old, rusty brown shag carpet of the trailer.

She gasped. “Harlow Jean!” she fell to her knees running her fingers across the bundles of bills. “Where in the word did you get this money from!?”

“I think it's time I tell you how it all started up until last night,” I sat back down on the couch and told her everything.

Brenda cried when I talked about my childhood, about my father leaving us and my mom getting sick with cancer, which made her cry harder. I went on to tell her about Chase, and how he opened the casino. How he ran drugs, and hookers through it. How he barely paid me no matter how hard I worked, and how he had me get to know her son. She listened intently, trying to understand everything I was telling her. I told her how nearly four years ago was when I first realized I had a thing for Vice and how it broke my heart lying to him. I told her how I tried to stay away and I couldn't and how I ended up with the money after Chase had spilled my secret. She raged when I told her what my brother did to Vice's Camaro but laughed her ass off when I told her what I did to Chase's office in return.

“You know, the heart wants what the heart wants, Harlow Jean,” she sighed. “And it just so happens for you, it's my son,”

“He will never forgive me, Brenda.” I cried. “I told him the truth though, about everything about my life... all except for Nostalgia and Chase being my brother,”

“He will, just give him time,” she rubbed my back with her hand trying to make me feel better. “He is just upset is all,”

“I don't know, he really hates my brother for all of the things he has done to him. I think he hates him so much that he hates me now knowing I share the same bloodline as him,” I stifled a laugh.

“Well, let's try to have a good day of no drama, and no boys,” she hopped off of the couch. “First thing is first, do you have a bank account?”

“Uh, no... I never made enough money to open one. I would get paid and it went to my bills,”

“We need to get you one before anyone in this park knows you are carrying that kind of money,” I nodded.

“Then the salon?” I smiled.

“Hell yes,” his mom stomped away to hurry and get ready.

“Yes!” I shrilled loudly, hearing his mother laugh from the bathroom. Finally, someone to do girly stuff with. This is going to be a good start to my new start.
Chapter Eight

Vice

The next two and a half weeks went by in a blur. I was a fucking mess. Everyday I would get voice mails and texts from Harlow. I never replied to any of them as I wasn't ready to talk to her yet.

Hi... Vice. It's me, Harlow.
I miss you, so much. I want you to know that I am so, so sorry how everything turned out between you and me. I never wanted to hurt you. I am a fucking mess without you. Please, all I ask is for a chance to explain everything to you. There was a long pause. I love you...

Delete.

“That is the fourth voice mail in three days from her,” I sighed, shoving my phone back into my pocket. Every time I heard her shaky voice on the other end, I fell apart. I missed her horribly bad. I haven't slept in weeks, I've barely eaten, and all I do is sit at the apartment, and work. I haven't even played poker since the Mirage tourney almost three weeks ago.

“Why don’t you let her explain herself, Vice? You’re clearly a mess without her,” Skip looked up from the back of a man whom he was giving a tribal to.

“No,” I shook my head wiping down my station for my next appointment. “What could she possibly have to say other than she lied to me,”

“I know Harlow,” he paused, foot on the pedal. “I am sure she has a reasonable explanation is all I am saying,”

I thought about it for a moment. Skip was going to Nostalgia for the last few years every other weekend or so. “Skip?” I tossed the used sani-wipe into the trashcan.

“Yeah,” his foot released from the pedal, he sprayed then wiped before looking at me.

“You go to Nostalgia every once in awhile,” I mentioned.

“Yeah, so,” he shrugged with a smile.

“Have you ever seen Harlow there?” I leaned against my red glittered table, legs and arms crossed waiting for his impending answer.

“Uh,” he pursed his lips. “Can’t say that I haven’t,”

I sighed, running my hand through my hair. “How long have you known, Skip?”

“Not a really, really long time, I guess,” he shrugged again, clearly uncomfortable knowing he has to tell me the truth.

“Skip, how long?” I asked again, losing my patience with him.

“Oh, about a year or so,” he said nonchalantly, like it was no big fucking deal.

“You knew and didn’t tell me?” I pushed off the table with my hips. I couldn’t believe this.

“It wasn’t any of my business, Vice,” he went back to his tattoo. “Besides... I didn't think it was that big of a deal because when I was there she was never with any guys. She would just smile and talk to the clients. She never came across like any of the other chicks in that place,”

“So that just made it okay that she wasn't a hooker,” I flailed my hands.

“No, it made it okay for her not to tell you because you gave her no other choice than to not want to, for fuck sakes, Vice!” Skip never raised his voice to me until now which caught me off guard and got me kind of heated. “You are so hell bent over fucking Chase Miller that she was scared if you did know, that you would want nothing to do with her. She never intended to fall in love with you, Vice, just like you never intended to fall in love with her. Everything happens for a reason. See it from Har's point of view for Christ's sake,”

“Har? So what, you have a fucking pet name for her now? You’re my best friend, and it was none of your business to tell me? You’ve known this entire time how I feel about her. God damn it, Skip!” I turned to walk away. “Cancel the rest of my appointments. I’m fucking done for the day,” I stormed out of the shop and headed down the street toward Dice’s Auto Body as I had gotten the call that my baby was ready to be picked up.

As I walked down the street I realized that no one in my life give’s two shits about me. My own best friend that I have known since I was eighteen twisted the knife that Harlow dug deep into my back, not without pulling it out after wards. What the hell did I do wrong to make this shit storm come to a complete downpour? This was such bullshit.

“Freaking stupid,” I mumbled as I turned the corner around the front of an apartment complex. I stopped dead in my tracks seeing my mother and Harlow Jean. Harlow had cut her blonde hair in a pixie style with pink highlights looking incredibly sexy in a pair of tattered jean shorts and a black tank top. It also looked like she had gained a few pounds which was a good thing as she was a little on the too skinny side. I was happy to see that she was taking care of herself.

“Vice!” my mother chirped when she had eyed me from a distance. “Are you here to help?” she asked with a smile. A smile I have only seen now twice in my life. Thanks to Harlow.

I smiled back. “No, I was going to go to Dice's and pick up my car,” my eyes traveled to Harlow talking to the delivery guys.

I looked back down at my mother who had new clothes on- a pair of fitted white shorts, and a tank top with sandals. Nothing as holey or revealing as she was used to wearing. She even had her hair and make up done, finished with purple manicured finger and toe nails.

“You look nice, what’s going on?” I touched her hair with my fingertips.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. Harlow has been staying at my place, going to meetings with me,” she shrugged it off like it was no big deal.

“What meetings?” I skeptically looked at her. “What’s up, Mom?”

“It was going to be a surprise, but, oh… what the hell, huh?” she rubbed my shoulder. “I’ve been clean for three weeks, not even a drop of alcohol thanks to that pretty angel over there,” she nodded toward Harlow. “She gives me hope, son. She gives me hope for myself, and for you.” she touched my cheek. “For the both of us,” Who was this woman standing before me, and what did she do with my mother? I smiled widely feeling her motherly embrace for the first time in at least twenty years.

“That’s great, mom. I am proud of you,” I hugged her close to me watching the delivery guys carrying in a black and zebra micro fiber sofa from over her shoulder into the apartment.

“What the hell is that?” I pulled away pointing to the furniture. “Mom? That isn’t your couch,” I furrowed my brows. “What the hell is that!?”

“Oh, Harlow took me to pick out some furniture,” she chuckled. “Isn’t she a sweetheart?”

“No, no…” I stalked toward Harlow. “Harlow Jean,”

She jumped at the sound of my voice, spinning around quickly. Her eyes were as wide as golf balls. She hadn’t known I was standing there with my mom as she was speaking with one of the delivery guys.

“Vice, I-” Harlow started.

“Take it back… all of this shit. We don’t need anything from you, or him,” I demanded, pointing at the truck. “Take it all back to the store, now,” I told one of the delivery guys standing there with a dolly and a washing machine totally confused.

“Miss. Jean?” he looked to her for direction.

“No, just wait a second, please,” she sighed, grabbing me by the elbow and pulling me to the side.

I pulled my arm away from her. I shook it, trying to make the tingling of her skin on mine disappear. “What are you doing?”

“I am helping your mother, Vice,” she ran her fingers through her now short hair.

“We don’t need you or your help.” I whispered loudly.

“You know what, Vice? I lied to you, I did, and I fully take blame for that. But, out of all honestly, I did it for the right reasons. Ones that you refuse to let me explain. If you don’t want me in your life bad enough to listen to those reasons, I will take my extra time and spend it on those people who actually give two shits enough about me to listen,” she started to cry. “And quite frankly, as of right this second, there is only one person who actually listens to me, and that is your mom. I love her, just like I love you. But at least she isn’t breaking my heart in the process,” she sobbed trying to walk away before quickly turning around again.

“I know you don’t want to hear anything that I have to say to you but I will tell you this… I quit Nostalgia, leaving with half of my share. I want to do something good and gracious with my money, and my time. With my heart, Vice.” she pointed to her chest, sobbing. “I am trying to make things right within me, deep inside. I am staying with your mom, she needs me, Vice. As much as I need her. She is my friend.” she sniffed. “In the mean time, consider this my furniture and I will take it with me when I move out then you can do what you want to for her,” she sobbed again, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

I stood there in awe. This perfect person was doing perfect things in my life that were truly amazing and for the past two and a half weeks, I have been being an ignorant bastard. She has taken my mother under her wing, helping her get clean and teaching her to love herself. I know Harlow had enough money to be on her own, but she insisted on staying with mom to make sure she stays strong through the rehab process. Also, I know it’s because she misses her mother. I am so incredibly in love with this girl standing in front of me more than I could have ever imagined loving someone. I wanted to reach out and pull her to me, tell her how sorry I am and that I do want to listen. It is just too soon, as the wound is still fresh.