Unexpected (MxM)

Chapter Eighteen- Deadbeat to Dad

Chapter Eighteen-

Moth

“Hopefully tomorrow will go better,” I admit, rolling onto my back as I talk to Frankie on the phone.

My first day at school sucked. Nobody likes a transfer in the middle of a semester. Especially not a stupid one who has no idea what they’re doing and needs constant one-on-one help from the teachers. This school is so prissy. Everyone is an honors student and there’s a uniform I didn’t know about. Everyone else was in button-ups and ties and I was wearing ripped-up clothes and dirty sneakers.

“I’d die to see pictures of you all dressed up in your new uniform. Send some, okay?”

I smile at the sound of his voice. He doesn’t sound too sad. That’s good. “I will. How’s school been for you?”

“Riding with Will in the afternoon sucks. He’s always sweaty after practice so he stinks. I miss not having you flirting with me all day, but aside from that it’s been okay.”

Part of me wants to push him to say more when I hear his voice waver toward the end. He’s probably trying not to worry me, and I know I shouldn’t be worrying because I know Frankie is tougher than everyone else gives him credit for. He can hold his own and deal with anyone who messes with him. I’m more concerned about how far he’ll let things go before he feels the need to stand up for himself.

“Okay. That’s good. Don’t let people pick on you while I’m gone. They can only walk on you if you let them.”

“It’s not that easy. I’m smaller than them. If I stand up for myself and run my mouth, they’ll beat me up.” He sighs, and I hear him shuffle before huffing softly. “I don’t want to talk about this. What was the news about your music?”

I reach over to grab the card from my nightstand, looking down at it as I speak. “I looked it up and this guy’s studio is less than an hour away. I figured if I’m going to be near LA for a while, I could see if he’s interested in working with me as a solo musician. Does that make me a sellout?”

Frankie laughs. “No. Of course, it doesn’t. You’re not selling anything yet anyway. It won’t do any harm just to talk to him and see what options you have. Maybe he’ll let you record a song. You’ll still come back to the band whenever you can.”

I smile and nod though I know he can’t see it. “Yeah. I’ll let you know what happens. My dad takes my phone at 8, and I’m sure you’re going to bed soon. I love you, Barbie. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I love you too. Bye, Ken.” He answers, hanging up right on cue.

My dad tries to open the door, groaning when he realizes it’s locked. “I told you to keep this door unlocked. You better open it right now if you want to keep it attached to the hinges.”

I roll my eyes and open the door, looking up at the man who seems like a complete stranger to me. Appearance-wise, I favor him over my mom. I have his sharp facial features, bushy eyebrows, forest green eyes, and build as well. Fizzle favors our mom. His face is soft and gentle, feminine almost. He’s small and petite like her, and although his eyes are green too, they look lighter than mine. I hate that I look so much like someone I barely know.

“I live here now and it’s my room. You weren’t even going to knock. What if I was naked?” I snap at him, staring straight into his eyes and glaring daggers to stand my ground. I’m not going to give in to this deadbeat alcoholic who didn’t give a s**t about me until the government shoved me down his throat.

“I bought the house, so it’s my room. I’m letting you live in it. I don’t care if you’re naked, you have a friend over, or you just don’t want me in here. It’s my house and my rules, understand?”

“f**k you, your rules, and your house.”

“Your door will be gone by the time you get home tomorrow. Phone.” He holds his hand out, making me clench my teeth.

I don’t like being treated like a child. I haven’t been told what to do by a parent in years, so it’s safe to say I don’t know how to react to it. I feel so powerless. At my mom’s, I had the entire basement to myself and did everything on my own: cooked for myself, got myself up in the morning, drove myself to school, and anything else I needed. I’m responsible enough to take care of myself, so the micromanaging he’s doing is pissing me off.

He won’t let me touch my motorcycle. He took my keys and put them somewhere because he thinks it’s too dangerous, so I’m stuck taking the bus in the morning. He cooks or prepares all my meals for me, so I’m stuck eating what he wants me to. He wakes me up in the morning, and now he’s taking my phone every night.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and put it in his hand. “You know it’s too late to act like a dad when all you’ve been for the last ten years is an annual birthday card with some cash in it.”

“I figured your mom wanted nothing to do with me. When she got custody of you boys, she was more than capable of being a good mother. I thought she stayed that way. I didn’t know that she let you run around doing whatever you want. For god’s sake, you’re not even an adult and you’re already covered in tattoos and piercings like you’re in a f*****g gang. I don’t even want to know what Fizzle is up to.” He takes my phone and puts it in his pocket.

I want to comment on how Fizzle is no better than me. His boyfriend beats him up to get their rocks off with each other, he has no job, and all he does is walk around naked all day waiting for Andrew to tell him when he needs his d**k sucked. However that probably wouldn’t be the best way to convince my dad to let me live with them, so I keep my mouth shut.

“Well, at least she was there. Even when you were there you were usually half dead on the couch reeking of Bacardi and Tito’s. Wasn’t that more inappropriate for a six-year-old than tattoos and piercings are for a sixteen-year-old?”

His calm facade cracks slightly, his eyes narrowing as his jaw clenches. “I’m sober now and that’s all that matters. You’re a child. It’s not for you to worry about. Do your homework and get to bed. Count your blessings too. You’re lucky your mom convinced me to let you keep those damn piercings in because of how expensive they were. Put less flashy rings in though and cover up as many tattoos as possible. It’s against your school’s rules to have all that crap.”

I roll my eyes when he leaves my room, and shut the door, locking it again despite the warning not to. I flop down on my bed and reach over to the side. After grabbing my guitar, I strum the strings a few times and pull my notebook out of my bag. It looks like garbage.

The band always compares notebooks and says that the one that looks the worst has the most love put into it. Caspian, Gwen, and I write the most, but mine looks more like a dirty napkin than a notepad. I flip through the pages and pages of songs, ignoring the tears and pen smears before finding the one that’s the most tattered.

Constant erasing, writing, and notes caused it to crumple up and smudge. I’ve changed a lot and added more because I want it to be perfect, and it’s almost there. It’s going to be the best song I’ve ever written. Maybe if I talk to this producer guy, he’ll like my song.

I strum the guitar, clearing my throat to sing the words. “It’s a magical night, turned into a horrible day. We had a good time, then he got in the way. We make a great team, so we’re gonna win. Cause it’s a wonderful life, it’s a wonderful life, it’s a wonderful life. For Barbie and Ken.”

“I said do your homework! I’ll take your guitar if you start failing classes.” My dad screams up the steps, earning an eye roll from me. This is going to take some adjusting, but I can still do what I love.

***

“Put your uniform on and come downstairs. Your breakfast is ready and I packed you lunch.”

I roll my eyes when he pushes the door open to see that I’m already getting dressed. I hate this stupid thing. I like wearing comfortable clothes, and I’ve never cared much about whether they look trashy or not. I’m not vain. My appearance doesn’t concern me at all, but this uniform is horrible. The pants are too big, I can’t get the buttons right on the shirt, I’ve never tied a tie before in my life, and the blazer makes it hard to move my arms.

I take a safety pin out of my bag to tighten my pants around my waist and leave the shirt buttons messed up and the tie hanging around my neck.

Once I’m dressed, I walk down the steps, picking my phone up from the table next to my plate of food. I’d rather eat cereal or a pop tart, but instead of complaining, I start to scarf down the veggie omelet he made. I take a quick picture to send to Frankie, glancing at my dad afterward.

“I’ll be at work late so I won't be home when you get here in the afternoon. I’ll be back at 10, and you better leave your phone down here. I’m not having you stay up until 1 am every night.”

“Fine. Can I drive my motorcycle?”

“No. We’ve been over this, Timothy.”

“Moth,” I correct for the thousandth time. He used to be a hippie just like my mom. Moving to LA and becoming some big-shot rich guy doesn’t mean he can call me by the name I don’t like. “And I have a license for it.”

“I don’t care. The answer is no, and you need to get to your bus stop, so hurry up.”

I huff and pick the plate up, throwing away the rest of the food he cooked for me. “This is f*****g ridiculous. I’m almost an adult.”

He grabs my wrist and looks at me for a moment. “You’re mad because you’ve been allowed to do whatever you want since you were little. This isn’t being overbearing or ridiculous. Do you really think it’s outlandish for a parent to want their kid to eat healthier, get enough sleep, show up to school, do their homework, and not die on the back of a motorcycle? I’m crazy for trying to do what’s best for you? Maybe you’d rather have me get stoned so I’ll ignore you and the fact that you’re failing every single class, but I’m not your mother.”

I yank my arm away from him and shove his chest, barely making him stumble. “Don’t talk s**t about her. You’re the one who left your f*****g family to be some deadbeat drunk in another state. You can’t come back in and start acting like you care.”

I grab my things and leave the house, walking to the bus stop. Once I stop there, I sigh, trying to ignore the other people standing around me.

“Moth, hey.” I hear a girl say. I turn my head and smile at her. I forgot her name, but I remember her showing me my classes yesterday. She must be on the welcoming committee.

“Hey…”

“Imogen. Everyone calls me Ginny though.” She looks me up and down before covering her mouth and snickering softly. “Can I help you?”

“Go ahead,” I mutter.

Ginny smiles and takes the safety pin out of my pants before taking the belt off of her skirt. It fits her, so it doesn’t fall down as she slides the belt into the loops in my pants. “You can keep this one. I have plenty at home.”

I smile. “Thanks. I’m not used to dressing fancy. Back home, my school hardly had a dress code, let alone a uniform.”

“Yeah, it can be annoying, but you’ll be able to wear what you want during spirit week, and at dances.” She moves her hands up and unbuttons my shirt, averting her eyes so as not to look at my chest as she does.

I glance around quickly to make sure nobody is looking. I don’t want them to think I’m trying to have a quickie with this girl. Once she fixes them, she tucks my shirt into my pants, fastens the belt, and starts working on the tie.

“I’m not into school dances. I had to move before going to the only one I’ve even considered.”

“You don’t go with your girlfriend?”

“Boyfriend, and no. My school only did homecoming and prom, so I never went. My boyfriend suggested doing a decade dance every year, and they approved it. I won’t be able to go since I’m here, but I hope he enjoys it,” I explain. I’m not sure why she’s wasting her time helping me. Maybe she has a little crush. “Why are you helping me? You have a thing for delinquents?”

“Ew, no. I’m dating the captain of the lacrosse team. Why wouldn’t I help? I’m the student leadership chair in the student council.” She informs me, stepping back as the bus heads down the street.

“I’m not going to be too great for your popularity then. They called me a street rat all day yesterday.”

“You’re not unpopular enough to affect me. Top dogs can do whatever they want.” She nudges me slightly as the bus stops. “If I were you, I’d just do my best to fit in. I’m not sure how diverse your school was back home, but here you have to blend. If not, you’ll be everyone’s target.”

“I don’t think you preppy rich kids can do much harm.”

She laughs softly as we climb on the bus together. “I guess you’ll have to learn the hard way.”