Who Can Save Charlie Rose? [hiatus]

blast from the past

"School starts tomorrow, dad. I just want to make sure I'm prepared," I whined into the phone.

My father sighed. "Okay, Rosie. I'll send it now— I really need to get back to this meeting. Talk to you soon."

He barely finished his sentence before he hung up. Satisfaction merged with disappointment.

"Tch. Love you too, asshole," I muttered.

Bzz.

I glanced at my notifications. Deposit: $2,000 in Account x3004.

"How much did he give ya?" Carson asked, leaning against the counter.

"Only 500," I lied, shrugging. "But it'll be good enough."

He sucked his teeth. "What a fuckin' dick."

While I had no affinity for my father whatsoever, hearing him shit talk the man for not giving me more money was irksome. When I met Carson, $500 was a lot to him— but now that he knew how deep the well went, he over-reaped the benefits as much as possible.

A 'communal recreation fund' is what we set up when we all first moved into our shitty townhome. What it truly ended up being was a 'Rosie Buys Everything' fund. Carson dropped out of school, didn't have a steady job, and when he did work all of his money went to the harder shit. I drew the line at speed— anything past that, he had to do himself.

"So, am I telling Ricky to dish out—"

"We need groceries, Carson. I am spending $250 of this on groceries, $50 in gas. And only $100 with Ricky, okay?"

"Fine, but if you run out again, don't come running to me," he muttered.

I bit out a laugh. "You and what fuckin' money?"

He bumbled behind me like an oaf as I gathered my keys and wallet. His breath blew over my shoulder, a reminder of his vulture-like closeness. My patience was wearing thin, and the final thread snapped when he ran into me as I was unlocking the front door.

"God fucking damn it, Daniels," I shouted, thrusting my shoulder into his chest. "Get the hell back! Jesus Christ."

Like a whipped puppy, he flinched back. His aggressive facade often faded whenever I received money from my parents. In place of it, he would be meek and groveling. Disgusting.

"Can we take the truck?"

He shook his head and averted his eyes. "Nah, no gas. I got a job lined up next week—"

"Save it," I sighed, unlocking Okami.

The drive to the grocery store was silent. I focused on how Okami felt when I shifted gears, how he sounded when we took off from a redlight. This car made me feel powerful. No matter how many times mom or dad attempted to get me to change to a 'newer, safer vehicle', I kept this Subaru.

Because they weren't the ones who picked it out for me— they're just the ones who paid for it.

I guided my car into a parking spot and shut it off. With a tired sigh, I lifted myself out of the driver's seat and waited for Carson. He was nose-deep in his phone, more than likely texting Ricky or Nguyen.

"Hey! Hey, you with the WRX!" A man's voice called out.

Perplexed, I looked up. Two men, similar in every way, approached me with gorgeous white-toothed smiles. Carson huffed and hefted out of the car, jogging around and standing in front of me.

"Fuck off," he demanded.

Their words were lost to my ears. I was entranced. Their slightly-curly honey brown hair and mischievous green eyes were a large dose of nostalgia. I winced as I saw a tell-tale scar on one of their eyebrows.