Page 81 of Shade
Camden’s mom died when he was seven and his new mommy? Hot as hell, but essentially a fucking bitch. She treats Camden like a slave, so we let him come over whenever he wants. Hence why she hates us.
“Your mom’s a bitch,” I tell him when he sits down, trying to take my beer from me.
When I rip it away, he slumps back in the chair, smiling. “Stepmom. And I could have told you that. She’s mean.”
Tiller laughs and reaches for his own beer in the fridge next to the outdoor kitchen. “Like what kind of mean are we talkin’ about here, Camden?”
He shrugs, taking my phone. He likes to check out all the chicks on Instagram sending me pictures of their tits, but I rip that away too. He’s ten. He doesn’t need to see that shit yet. “Like she won’t let me do anything.”
Tiller raises an eyebrow. “Anything as in?”
Camden shrugs again. “Stuff.”
“Jesus, it’s like talking to a ten-year-old.”
Camden’s brow furrows. “I am ten, Tiller.”
I said he was cool, not smart.
I laugh, staring out at the setting sun. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
Do you think he shrugs again?
You’d be right. “Oh, probably,” he says, then grins and steals my sunglasses. What’s with people and taking my shit today? “Can I sleep over?”
“No,” Tiller says immediately. Last time we let him, he ended up witnessing his first live porno. From then on, we banned the kid from being here after dark. “But your mom can. Maybe then I can fuck some sense into the pretentious bitch.”
I could be wrong here, but maybe this is why his dad doesn’t like us?
Camden groans and covers his face with his hands. “Stepmom.”
Camden doesn’t leave right away; instead, he challenges Tiller to a backflip contest while Auden arrives. I reach for my sunglasses, right them on my face, and then I’m back to drinking.
Auden sits down across from me, immediately lighting a cigarette and then takes notice of the empty cans on the table surrounding me.
“What’s with you?” Auden asks, watching me open another beer. I don’t even like beer that much. It’s just a way to pass that unbearable time moving at turtle speed these days.
I shoot him a glare. “That’s a pretty stupid fuckin’ question, don’t you think, A?”
He sits there for a moment and then reaches into his pocket and hands me a crumpled-up piece of paper. I don’t take it and he sets it on the table. I know what it is. I knowexactlywhat it is and it has me seeing red that he kept it.
“I don’t want that.”
“You need to read it.”
“Didyouread it?”
He bows his head, his focus on the edge of the table he’s running his thumb along and murmurs, “That’s not my name on the letter. It’s yours. And I thinkyouneed it. I get why you didn’t read the letter and threw it away, but you need to read it now.”
I didn’t want to read it. I didn’twanther fucking excuses or reasons or whatever else it holds. “I don’t want to.”
Auden stands, his shoulders sagging as if he’s tired of seeing this, the part where I fall apart slowly. . . and then all at once. “You should.”
Should I?
Do you see that guy sitting in the lounge chair? The one with no shirt, hiding behind shades because his despondent bloodshot eyes give too much away?
How’d he go from winning medals at the X-Games and Gravity Games the year before to this guy? The one drinking beer at ten in the morning.
