Page 16 of Trailer Trash

The lie sickens me. Killian is a raging addict. But these people could ruin my life. I hold my breath, praying.

“Yes,” she finally answers. “Trouble finds my son.”

A loud groan fills the room.

“Can we stop talking like I am not here?” Killian sulks.

That is so something Evan would say — like he’s the victim. It boils my blood and I roll my eyes.

“Oh, please, Killian. I bet you like the attention.”

My palm slams over my mouth, shocked that I just said that.

“Sorry!” I say, the word muffled under my hand.

His dad points at me, wagging his finger, but he says nothing. Then he takes Christine to the edge of the room and speaks privately with her.

I glance at Killian. He stares at me with a slight smirk.

“This is fun.”

I scoff. “No, it isn’t. I’m about to lose my job.”

“You won’t,” he says so low I almost don’t hear it.

“Harlow,” says Clark, who suddenly moves in front of me. “How would you like a promotion?”

“Huh?”

“My son has an honesty problem. A discretion problem. A habit of humiliating his family. It’s time we try a less conventional approach. My son needs a babysitter. You.”

“Oh, no!” I step back several paces. “I can’t. I am in nursing school. I work nights—”

“Perfect. That’s when Killian gets into trouble.”

Killian perks up, and slowly, his smile grows — sinister.

“Hey, this is a great idea. I need supervision.”

“Oh God,” I mumble, but focus on Clark. “I cannot prevent your son from using drugs. Trust me.”

“I’m not asking you to prevent it. I’m asking you to warn me before it happens. You inferred we’re fools who don’t see his lies, but you aren’t. I’ll increase your pay.”

Increase my pay.

I blink.

The mobile home closing costs are already eating through the rest of my savings. My car needs repairs. Tuition is due again. One bad month and everything I clawed together falls apart.

But working with an addict may kill me.

Clark rests his hand on my shoulder. “Whatever you need to make the job bearable, I will provide. I’ll always be a phone call away.”

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

I rub the back of my neck, unsure of how to get out of this.

“If it doesn’t work out,” Clark says, “you can have your old job back.”