Beware of the Parker Boys *UNDER EDITING*

Chapter Five

Grabbing a water from the fridge, I hear the sound of the TV playing in the bedroom. I find Dalton, Garran, Lucas, and Rodger all scattered on the various pieces of furniture, 'Step Brothers' playing loudly on the screen.

I take a seat in an open chair, twisting the cap off the bottle and I take a drink. My eyes peek over the tipped bottle, embarrassingly meeting Rodger's from across the room and I quickly look away, feeling my cheeks burn slightly.

There is a light feeling in the air as we watch the hilarious film, I have made myself comfortable by snuggling into the plush chair with a soft blanket. When the movie is over, we all stretch, saying soft goodnights before returning to our rooms.

I check my social media and messages on my phone as I lay in bed, reading a message from my father that I wasn't sure how to respond to.

Dad: Stick around the house tomorrow, something will be dropped by in the morning.

Locking the iPhone, I plug it into the charger and roll over.

Something will be dropped off in the morning.

Was it something from the apartment in Cali?

I rack my brain, trying to guess what that 'something' would be. Giving up, my eyes grow heavy, the comfortable bed making it easy to drift off to sleep.

*

The next morning, I am awakened by a light knock on the door, the noise stirs me, rubbing my eyes I find the clock reading ten forty five. There is another knock, this one a tad louder and quicker paced.

"Come in." I murmur, sitting up, raking quick and nimble fingers through to fix my bed head.

Thomas, the boy who brought my bags to the room when I arrived here, sticks his head inside the now open door.

"Hey, there's a delivery guy downstairs that needs you to sign for something."

I removed the blanket from my legs, my feet meeting the cool hardwood floors.

"I'll be down in a second." I tell him, hurrying to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Fingers sliding down the banister, I headed for the front door, meeting the man dressed in an obvious uniform. He holds a handheld machine, and a vanilla folder in both of his hands.

"Can I help you?" I ask him, stopping in the open doorway.

"You're Brooklyn Carter?" He asks me, already pushing the handheld into my hands.

"Yes, what is this for?" Looking at the screen, I find the signature box waiting for me to scrawl out my name with the plastic "pen".

"I just need your signature, all the paperwork is in this folder," He holds the folder in the air for presentation. "Then you can have the keys."

"Keys?" I stood blubbering like a fool, asking nothing but questions since I had been left without an explanation.

He pulls a set of car keys from the front pocket of his work shorts, causing me to peak around the side of the house. In the driveway already unloaded, sat a black 2018 BMW.

Something will be dropped off in the morning.

My mouth stayed gaped open, Thomas coming to stand behind me, his lips smacking as he chews a bite of something he had in his hands.

"Damn B, sweet ride." He whistles, nodding towards the shining dream.

Absentmindedly, I sign for the package, taking the keys and paperwork as the delivery man gives the informational speech that came with the job.

I shut the door upon his leaving, not leaving the house to check out the vehicle that supposedly was mine.

Where was he getting all this money?

"The new car trick, huh?" Thomas stands with his back against the wall beside the front door. "Don't worry, we've been there and done that."

The thought of their numerous nice vehicles littered about outside crosses my mind.

"Has your dad always worked away from home?" I ask him, tucking the envelope under my arm.

His posture stiffens slightly, mouth stops chewing, making me regret the question.

"Off and on, but when Lidia left, he stopped coming home for long periods of time."

"Lidia?" My voice is soft. Almost coming out as a whisper, but it was loud enough for him to hear me. His head tilts upwards ever so slightly, allowing his eyes to meet mine.

"Our mom."

Nothing had been said about their mother, and I had never asked. It was obvious she hadn't been around for some time, she was in none of the family photos, nothing in the house hinted that it belonged to a woman other than random things of Wendy's and now mine.

"I'm sorry." This time, it does come out as a whisper. I knew that my apology wouldn't bring him much comfort, I understood the probable ache he felt for his own mother.

"Your mom isn't around either, I'm guessing?"

We hold each other's gaze for a moment, his eyes reading my answer before I have to say anything out loud. He pushes away from the wall, popping the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth.

"Sounds like we've all got a lot in common, B."