Chase Me (2 page)

“Mike you should remember in 1955, oil was low on detergent and high on coke, so oil clogs were common and frequent, so Chevy developed an external oil filter for the small block. It was released much later and most people went without as it cost them extra money to install. This car doesn’t have one, and based on the condition I would say it was a Sunday driver. Short trips are more likely to clog the passage than longer trips in this model.”

I continued working and allowed what I had said to sink in as I wiggled and pulled. The tubing wasn’t letting go, but I didn’t want Mike to see me struggling with it so I hid my strain until it broke free, and I got sprayed with oil, successfully opening the clog. Mike and I both burst out laughing then I walked over and hugged him with oil all over my red ribbed sweater.

“You are so passionate about these cars and you fix them with enthusiasm and alacrity. How are you not my daughter?” Mike asked and I smiled at the praise.

“I am no man’s daughter. You see my mom merely spit in a cup and out I grew, but if I have to be made from someone I would have loved it if it were you,” I said with a sad smile. Then a cough sounded and I turned to see my sperm donor standing in the door.

“Hey Mr. Huntington,” I stated as I went to get cleaned up.

“I have asked you a million times to call me dad, or Henry,” My biological dad stated and I turned back wondering how I wound up blond haired and blue eyed. He had dark brown hair with strips of grey and green eyes.
Maybe I was adopted and my mom forgot
.

“Do you still have a wife not yet old enough to drink and get into clubs?” I asked disrespectfully.

“Liza has nothing to do with what you call me,” Henry replied.

“When you get a grown up wife, and have a family that doesn’t border on statutory rape I will call you whatever you want.”

Henry took a deep breath and seemed to be counting to ten, but I was the queen of the whiny bitches so I counted too and when he got to nine I spoke again.

“Why are you even down here? This is a work day.”

“Your mom called,” Henry spoked softly and I wondered if they had argued or something. “The doctor wants her to bring her family to her appointment on Friday. She has asked me to come.”

“Yea I know,” I quickly retorted even though I didn’t have a clue. “She has been sick for a while now, and they were going to do a scan last week.”

“She was trying to find you because the snow has started falling and it is supposed to get bad. Do you need a ride into Manhattan?” Henry asked and I nodded. I grabbed my jacket, and walked over placing a kiss on Mike’s cheek.

“I’m going to help you finish up those two cars. What time is good to come help tomorrow?” I asked Mike and he shrugged.

“Whenever you feel like it. If the weather does what they say, stay home. Don’t risk your life for these cars,” Mike smiled and handed me a bag of Skittles. They were my favorite. You could eat them plain or put them in clear alcohol like vodka or rum and their flavor would be absorbed into the alcohol.

“They say it is the last snow of the season, and these cars are my life so, no snow will keep me away. Only one thing can keep me from this place,” I smirked and turned to Henry. “You are in your CEO tower tomorrow, right? So you won’t be here, correct?” He nodded his head and I was sure he wanted to say something, but he bit his tongue.

I walked out and got into his brand new Porsche that would never survive the snow, and silently rode the whole way back to the city. When we pulled up outside the apartment I shared with Brooklyn I went to get out when Henry cleared his throat.

“Wait Katie,” he called out and I cringed. I was not a child I was an adult and my name was Kate. “I wanted to talk to you first.”

“What’s up?” I asked as I breathed through my irritation; silently counting to ten. He turned off the car, got out, threw the keys to my doorman, and then walked me up the three floors to my apartment.

As we entered the grey-walled modest floor plan two-bedroom apartment I deposited my jacket on the hook and walked into my bedroom to put on another sweater. When I came back out I knew something was wrong because he was looking everywhere, but at me.

“Kathryn, I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” he started and I sat down and placed my hand to my chest thinking it was about my mom. “I’m going to have to let Mike go and close the garage.”

“What?” I ignored the fact he still couldn’t get my name right and hoped he had an explanation as to why I just lost my job, and why Mike was losing his pension.

“Liza is pregnant and the garage is draining too much money during the winter. She wants me to let him go at the end of the season and he will get a severance package, but I wanted you to hear it from me.”

“You are loaded. You own a penthouse and like four houses or something.” I yelled as I started pacing. “You said end of the season? You mean the pay rotation? Like two months away?” I asked and Henry nodded. “You know he can retire in seven months, right?”

“Liza and I decided that we didn’t want to wait that long because the baby will be here by then and it would be a lot to close it up after the baby arrives. Plus, you need to stop hanging around and working in a garage. You are my daughter and should act like a lady so starting Monday of next week you will be transferred over to my building and I will place you under my CFO. His assistant just got promoted so he needs someone.”

I walked over to Henry and balled up my first and sent a right hook right into his cheek bone. He stumbled and immediately grabbed his face. Even with the sharp pain to my knuckles I couldn’t unclench my fist and wanted to hit him again.

“First, my name is fucking Kate. K-A-T-E! Not Katie or Kathryn. Second, Mike will lose his retirement and have nothing for all those years. Are you fucking proud that you are stealing his future?”

“Kate!”

“Seriously, I want to know who owns your balls, Henry?”

“Kate,” he growled again, but I wasn’t having it. I cut him off, and clinched my already tight fist ready to hit him again.

“You are going to get in your expensive oversized matchbox car and drive home. You are going to demand your nuts back from your wife. Once you get your cojones back, you are going to find a way to leave the garage open for both Mike and myself. You promised it to me after Mike retires! Just because you knocked up some whiney sniffling brat of a teenager doesn’t mean everyone should suffer.”

“Do not ever lay another finger on me!”

“Don’t give me a reason too,” I sarcastically gritted as my jaw clenched and my anger rose.

“This is not up for negotiation, Kate, Liza is my wife. When you get married you will understand that everything is a battle,” Henry declared with a crooked sneer.

It was so tense I never heard Brooklyn use her key and come in the door until she walked between us. She took in his new bruise forming and my fist still clinched and quickly laid her stuff down and walked over towards me.

“This is why I will always be single. Who needs war in their relationships?” I screamed as Brooklyn placed her hands on my shoulders.

“You mean you will always be a whore,” Henry called out and I lunged for him, but he hurried to the door, and Brooklyn had wrapped herself around me to keep me from killing him. My rage fueled me as I drug Brooklyn across the floor. By the time I got to the door with Brooklyn hanging on, Henry had fled and I still couldn’t come down off my anger.

“Fuck,” I shouted to Brooklyn as she let me go. “The man who gave me life thinks I am a whore and is about to take the things I love away from me. I wish my mom had never told him about me.”

“Do you want to dance it out? We can order Chinese food and get wine. You know make it a girl’s night,” Brooklyn offered, but instead I grabbed a pair of heels.

“I’m going out.” I shouted and slammed the door before Brooklyn could try to comfort me or come with me. I needed a drink and a time out from my life.

If you are reading this, you have loaded a unedited version of this book. This means Amazon did not update as requested.

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This is the story if you continue reading, but the storyline has changed in fragments and edits have fixed my inability to spell, place commas, or remember tenses when I am binge typing.

Sorry for this mix up,

Elizabeth York

Chapter 2

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Brooklyn shouted as she stood in the door way in her black tank top and pink pajama shorts with her long black hair up in a messy bun. Her cobalt eyes carried bags beneath them that said I must have woken her.

I tiptoed a little further into our darkened apartment. I thought if I could get past her I could get away without the lecture, especially since I brought home the man whose name escaped me.

“Tuesday? No wait it is after midnight so that makes it Wednesday, I think,” I stated with a chuckle.

“Not the day, the time!” Brooklyn had that crinkle in her forehead that said she was pissed.

“March,” I snorted and then couldn’t hold back the incessant laughter that followed.

“Who the hell is this?” Brooklyn asked pointing to the man I had brought home.

“He’s my next fuck up,” I slurred my words, and then it seemed my brain wanted to function so I shouted to answer her first question. “4am. I think. Maybe.”

I dropped the heels I was carrying to the floor and let go of the strange man’s hand I was holding. “You look old when you’re angry,” I whispered at Brooklyn as I put my hand over my mouth to stifle my drunken antics then Brooklyn doubled in my vision and all the alcohol from my celebration was coming back up for one last hurrah.

“I was worried sick about you. Do you not know how to return a text?”

I bolted past her and bounced off the grey walls toward the bathroom we shared. I threw the door open and lunged for the toilet that was decorated in butterflies and books. There my body rejected every ounce of alcohol and hydration I had. When there was nothing left to be projected from me I laid on the bathroom floor and cried.

“Kate,” Brooklyn called out from the doorway. “Drinking like this is not going to make anything easier,” she whispered as she wet a washcloth, grabbed a towel, and laid it on the floor.

“I know,” I gagged as I thought I was going to vomit again.

“I sent your date home,” she seemed annoyed, but then she sat down and pulled me over to her where my head rested in her lap and my body rested on the towel. “You can’t empty it into a bottle every time Henry does something to make you feel bad about yourself. Did you even think about talking to him rationally? Ever tell him how much it hurts?” She asked as she played with my hair and wiped the sweat from my body. I shook my head; almost afraid talking would make me puke again.

Brooklyn was my only real girl-friend. Lots of people want to be your friend when they find out your dad owns some million-dollar company that I didn’t care to even learn about, but not her. She was like me; we both grew up with absent dads who sometimes did things we were not so proud of. We both had trust issues with everyone, but most of all she understood my weird sense of humor and awful drunken coping mechanisms. She just understood like no one else could.