Page 30 of Wilde About You

I tossed a pile into the wheelbarrow.

"Ya missed some," Dad said.

I held out the mucking fork. "You wanna do this?"

He pressed his hand to his chest. "Bad heart, remember?"

"Yes, you remind all of us anytime a chore comes up. I'll bet you can't fuck a woman for three days straight anymore, broken back or not." I regretted it as soon as I said it. "Sorry, didn't mean that. What did the doctor say? I heard you had a checkup."

"Yep, Nev went with me and asked him a billion questions." Dad chuckled. "The doc's face was red, and he was all flustered and he finally told her 'as long as Finn takes his meds and eats right and doesn't spend all day in his chair, he'll outlive us all.' Think he just wanted us out of his office." Dad leaned his arms up on the stall again. "What's wrong, son. You look down in the mouth."

"Cuz I'm shoveling shit. Should I be dancing?"

Dad pulled his arms down. "All right, if you don't want to talk about it, then I'm going in for a beer."

"Thought you weren't supposed to drink."

"I've got one foot in the grave. I might as well enjoy myself until the other drops in."

"Dad," I said before he could walk away.

His face popped back up over the stall door. He waited for me to continue.

"Might need to move home for a while. The sponsors are all getting cold feet because of the knee injury." I didn't need to mention Ace's backstabbing. Dad never liked the guy as it was, and I didn't need him going off on a rant about him. I was already having my own continual mental rant about Ace.

Dad nodded. "Sounds good. I've been needing someone to help with chores, like shopping, dishwashing—oh, and occasionally wiping my ass."

I threw a chunk of hay at him. It stuck to his shoulder as he walked away.

I stepped out of the stall and sat on a bale of straw. One minute I'm on top of the world, and the next, I lose sponsors, my apartment and a really hot girl all in one fucking day.

fifteen

. . .

Sadie

Work trucks dotted the long, paved driveway up to my parents' two-story Tudor-style mansion. "Just stop here," I told the Uber driver. Her mouth hung open as she stared up at the house.

I dropped my pack over one shoulder and walked between two painting trucks. It seemed Mom was renovating again. She would finish one room and move on to the next, even if that room had been renovated just a few years back. It was a continuous cycle with my mom, a woman with far too much money and time on her hands. Paint colors, flooring and wallpaper were at the top of her priority list. She couldn't have cared less what was happening in her children's lives except when someone won an award or contest or scholarship. Then she would have her friends over for tea and a big session of boasting. I was the only one who'd never earned center stage in one of those boast sessions. I was fairly certain most of her friends had forgotten that Harold and Margaret Rivers even had a daughter.

I'd had a key long ago but lost it in a laundromat. I laughed at the time, thinking about how horrified my parents would've been to know that the keys to their luxurious home were floating around a dilapidated laundromat.

I rang the bell, and Ingrid's voice came over the intercom. "Yes, who is it?" she asked. Ingrid had been my mom's loyal housekeeper for years. I spent a lot of time with Ingrid. She was sweet and had interesting stories to tell about her small village in Albania. If I was upset about something that happened at school, I'd go to Ingrid long before I went to my mom.

I leaned closer to the intercom. "Hi Ingrid, it's me, Sadie." The door clicked open and I walked inside. I heard Ingrid's flat orthopedic shoes shuffling along the marble tile floor before I shut the door.

"My little Sadie." She raised her soft pudgy arms. She'd shrunk a little in height and her beautiful skin had softened enough that it hung in delicate folds off the edge of her chin. Her eyes were still a sparkly brown, and her smile was wonderfully familiar.

I dropped my pack and walked into her hug. She always smelled faintly like cinnamon because of the tea she drank every afternoon. I hadn't realized just how badly I needed a friendly hug until I found myself hanging onto her far longer than was necessary for a greeting.

"Uh-oh, my little Sadie is not happy." She leaned back and looked me up and down. "And skinny, too. You need one of my grilled cheese sandwiches. I'll make it right now."

I was still stuffed with pizza but I didn't want to hurt her feelings. "Oh yes, thank you so much, Ingrid."

"I'll make up your room. Your mom isn't painting that one." She rolled her eyes. It wasn't easy trying to keep house in a place that was under constant construction.

"Where are they?" I asked.