Say You're Mine: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Southport Love Stories Book 4), Sarah Brooks [urban books to read .txt] 📗

fight Sam for them, if I have to,” I teased, finally finding my keys beneath a pile of clothes. I was a total slob and my tiny space was littered with so much debris it made walking to the door difficult. The dorms were shit. I was one of the lucky ones not to be saddled with a random roommate. I had secured a single room, but it was still awful especially with the thumping base from my neighbor’s techno music at all hours of the night; I freaking hated it. I fantasized about the day I could have a nice, big house with walls that weren’t paper-thin. I had grown up with barely enough and I longed for the days I didn’t have to worry about money all the time. Which is why I was working my ass off to be something better. Something more.

“I’m making lemon bars for you, don’t worry,” Mom laughed and my chest tightened. She may not have much, but she gave her kids everything she had. My mother was the best person I had ever known and I wanted nothing more than to make her faith in me justified.

“You’re the best, Ma.” I closed the door behind me and headed down the stairs, saying hello to a few people I passed on the way.

“I just want you and Sam to always know I love you. He knows that, doesn’t he? I don’t want Sam to think I’ve abandoned him. Do you think he thinks that?” I could hear Mom’s voice wobble and I knew she was close to tears. Being separated from Sam was hard for her. Harder now Dad was gone and I lived thirty minutes away. But I knew Sam was in the best place he could be and lately my phone calls with Mom had been a lot of reassurances about it.

“Lakewood House is one of the best facilities in the country. Sam’s getting top-notch care. He’s happy. Don’t you remember how excited he was about the picture he made in art class?” What I was saying was true. I had never seen my brother as happy as he had been since moving to Lakewood House. The staff was well-trained and compassionate. There were tons of activities and classes for Sam to take. He was learning a modicum of independence and he was making friends. In truth, he was getting more out of life now that he was living away from my mother than he would ever have if he stayed home. But of course, I’d never say that. I would never do anything to make my mother feel worse. It was better to hide and lie than tell her all the truth.

I heard Mom’s heavy sigh. “You’re right. He’s happy. I need to remember that.” She sniffed a little but she hadn’t devolved into tears, which I considered a victory. Growing up, my mother was the strongest woman I had ever known. I could remember the times she cried on one hand. Since Dad had died and Sam had gone to live at Lakewood House she was still strong, but she was also more prone to sobbing and emotional outbursts. She had lost so much; she was entitled to her tears. But it still broke my heart and made me feel helpless.

That’s why she would never, ever know what it took to keep Sam in his fancy residential home and her mortgage paid. She couldn’t know. It would kill off the last of her.

“I can’t believe what this job of yours is paying you. All that money to do a little filing? And it’s not interfering with your school work, right? Because I could figure out how to pay for everything. I’m sure there’s some financial aid—”

“I’ve got it covered, Ma, don’t worry. I’d tell you if it was too much,” I reassured her, once again lying through my teeth. I checked the time. Shit. I was officially late. “But I really have to go. I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Ok, my sweet. I love you.” Words that twisted like a knife.

“I love you too,” I replied, hanging up the phone.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and ran out the door, hoping I could make it in time to keep my shift.

**

The Landing Strip was busy even though it was a Wednesday night. But it was half off cocktails before ten, so it usually brought a lot of people through the door. The music was loud and the air was thick with the smell of sweat and aftershave. Strobe lights flashed and the smoke machine was going while my buddy, Franklin—otherwise known as Officer Spank—was gyrating his hips in his tiny G-string, wearing a British-style police cap on his head. I could see from my spot at the back of the stage that he had overdone it with the baby oil. He was going to fall on his ass if he wasn’t careful.

“You’re late, Rob,” Darla Tiedwich snapped once she caught sight of me in the dressing room.

“Sorry. Won’t happen again.” I didn’t bother to give her excuses, she wouldn’t care. Instead, I dug out my costume, a tight-fitting suit that I could easily rip off when the time was right. Once Darla had found out I was in school to become a lawyer she had dubbed me “Billy the Sexy Barrister” as my stage name. The ladies—and some of the men—definitely seemed to like it. I made money hand over fist. Recently Darla had started putting me on for the shower shows. There were three showers installed in the back of the club, encased in clear glass, where people could pay me 300 bucks to watch me take a shower. It sounded crazy but women went nuts for it. It was funny what a little soap and water could do to turn people on.

“I’ve given your shower spot to Jeremy,” she informed me and my stomach dropped. The showers were where I made most of my money.