"Please, there must be something that can be done? Some paperwork that could just be transferred? No one knows I won yet. It could be done. The person I want to transfer it to is on the list of finalists, Tenleigh Falyn."
He cocked his head to the side, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. "I saw where you live. I saw the life you lead. I came from circumstances just like yours. That picture over there," he pointed to a photo on the wall of a small, crumbling shack, "that's a picture of where I grew up. I had to claw and fight for every inch I received in life. I know it's the same for you. I'd never give up what I had to fight for . . . for anyone. You shouldn't either. Especially not some damn woman."
We're not the same, you and I. We're nothing alike.
"She's not just some woman, Sir. She's more than that. To me, she's everything."
He laughed, but it sounded cold. "Clearly." He considered me for another minute before he continued. "Unlike you, I'm not a man who does something for nothing. That's why I'm standing behind this desk," he walked around the large, mahogany piece of furniture and placed his fingertips on the inlaid leather top, "and you're standing on the other side of it begging me for my help in a pair of shoes that wore out two years ago. That's not how I got to be where I am today. I never give anything away for free. Am I clear? If I do this, I'll expect to be compensated."
"You're part of giving out a very generous scholarship every year. That's—"
"PR, son. Tyton Coal took a hit when the Dennville mine cave-in happened. Things like this encourage people to forget. People forget, stock goes back up. I become a very rich man."
Bastard. How had anyone ever wanted this man?
I took a deep breath, forcing the rage back down my throat. "Please, Sir. I'll do anything. If you'll help me, I'll do anything. I'll pay you back. I'll set up some kind of payment plan. Anything."
He considered me for so long, I began to think he wouldn't answer at all.
"You'll work for me. I'm short on below ground miners. I'm always short on below ground miners. You sign a contract to work for me for the four years Tenleigh's in school and I'll have the scholarship transferred to her, the housing, everything."
Fear slammed into my chest and I almost stumbled back. Below ground miner. I couldn't do that. It was the one thing I couldn't do. The only thing I couldn't do. And then how would I eventually make my way to where she was? If I was here . . . stuck . . . again.
Tenleigh.
Tenleigh.
"I'll do it," I croaked out. "You have a deal."
His face spread into a slow smile. "Figure you at least have the blow job of your life coming for this one. If she's anything like her batshit crazy mother, it might even be worth it." He laughed as if we were friends. He laughed as if there were anything remotely funny about that.
My jaw tightened and I fisted my hands down by my sides. I shook my head. "I'm not telling her. She can't know. She'll never let me do this if she knows. She won't take it. Tenleigh, she—" I stopped talking. She's fierce. She's loyal. She's a fighter. She smells like wildflowers and mixes mountain talk with SAT words. And she's so unbelievably beautiful. But I wasn't going to give this pig anything of Tenleigh. "She can't know," I finished.
"Relax. It was a joke, son." I stood there, unsmiling, letting him know I hadn't found it funny. "I'd prefer her not know anyway," he continued. "Or anyone for that matter. I don't want it getting out that the scholarship is transferrable, under any circumstances. So let's keep this between you and me. You keep it quiet, you sign a contract to work for me, and the scholarship goes to her. You quit, you die, the scholarship is rescinded. Are we clear, son?"
Stop calling me son, you piece of shit. I'm the son of a man who worked himself to the bone, day in and day out for the piddly salary you paid him. He went deep into the dark earth every day for his family, for pride, because he'd do anything for those he loved. That's the blood I have coursing through my veins. I am not your son. I'm Daniel Barrett's son.
"We have a deal. I'll work for you. I won't tell her."
"What are you going to do? How are you going to keep it from her?" he asked with interest.
"I'm going to break both our hearts." My voice sounded dead even to my own ears.
He stood looking at me for another second as if I was some form of alien that had come down from a distant planet. Finally, he held out his hand. I walked forward and grasped it. We shook. It was done. I felt as if I'd just made a deal with the devil. And now I was going to hell.
**********
Tenleigh stood in my doorway, moving her head from side to side. She opened her mouth once to speak, but then snapped it closed. "Can I come in?" she asked. I hesitated.
"Tenleigh, my house, it doesn't look so nice."
"None of our houses look nice."
"I know, but what I mean—"
"Let me in, Ky." Her voice was weak.
Shit. As I drew in a much-needed breath, I felt ashamed she would see what my place had become—or rather, what it had not. But it was time to own up to what I'd done. I moved aside and she passed in front of me. I shut the door and turned to her as she looked around. I never bought new furniture or a stove. The pipe still hung from the ceiling like a daily reminder of the life I never got to live. I never unpacked the boxes I'd packed almost four years ago. I still didn't even have a bed. I slept on the floor in a pile of blankets, a couple space heaters nearby to keep me alive in the winter. There were containers sitting everywhere to catch the water that leaked from the roof.
He cocked his head to the side, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. "I saw where you live. I saw the life you lead. I came from circumstances just like yours. That picture over there," he pointed to a photo on the wall of a small, crumbling shack, "that's a picture of where I grew up. I had to claw and fight for every inch I received in life. I know it's the same for you. I'd never give up what I had to fight for . . . for anyone. You shouldn't either. Especially not some damn woman."
We're not the same, you and I. We're nothing alike.
"She's not just some woman, Sir. She's more than that. To me, she's everything."
He laughed, but it sounded cold. "Clearly." He considered me for another minute before he continued. "Unlike you, I'm not a man who does something for nothing. That's why I'm standing behind this desk," he walked around the large, mahogany piece of furniture and placed his fingertips on the inlaid leather top, "and you're standing on the other side of it begging me for my help in a pair of shoes that wore out two years ago. That's not how I got to be where I am today. I never give anything away for free. Am I clear? If I do this, I'll expect to be compensated."
"You're part of giving out a very generous scholarship every year. That's—"
"PR, son. Tyton Coal took a hit when the Dennville mine cave-in happened. Things like this encourage people to forget. People forget, stock goes back up. I become a very rich man."
Bastard. How had anyone ever wanted this man?
I took a deep breath, forcing the rage back down my throat. "Please, Sir. I'll do anything. If you'll help me, I'll do anything. I'll pay you back. I'll set up some kind of payment plan. Anything."
He considered me for so long, I began to think he wouldn't answer at all.
"You'll work for me. I'm short on below ground miners. I'm always short on below ground miners. You sign a contract to work for me for the four years Tenleigh's in school and I'll have the scholarship transferred to her, the housing, everything."
Fear slammed into my chest and I almost stumbled back. Below ground miner. I couldn't do that. It was the one thing I couldn't do. The only thing I couldn't do. And then how would I eventually make my way to where she was? If I was here . . . stuck . . . again.
Tenleigh.
Tenleigh.
"I'll do it," I croaked out. "You have a deal."
His face spread into a slow smile. "Figure you at least have the blow job of your life coming for this one. If she's anything like her batshit crazy mother, it might even be worth it." He laughed as if we were friends. He laughed as if there were anything remotely funny about that.
My jaw tightened and I fisted my hands down by my sides. I shook my head. "I'm not telling her. She can't know. She'll never let me do this if she knows. She won't take it. Tenleigh, she—" I stopped talking. She's fierce. She's loyal. She's a fighter. She smells like wildflowers and mixes mountain talk with SAT words. And she's so unbelievably beautiful. But I wasn't going to give this pig anything of Tenleigh. "She can't know," I finished.
"Relax. It was a joke, son." I stood there, unsmiling, letting him know I hadn't found it funny. "I'd prefer her not know anyway," he continued. "Or anyone for that matter. I don't want it getting out that the scholarship is transferrable, under any circumstances. So let's keep this between you and me. You keep it quiet, you sign a contract to work for me, and the scholarship goes to her. You quit, you die, the scholarship is rescinded. Are we clear, son?"
Stop calling me son, you piece of shit. I'm the son of a man who worked himself to the bone, day in and day out for the piddly salary you paid him. He went deep into the dark earth every day for his family, for pride, because he'd do anything for those he loved. That's the blood I have coursing through my veins. I am not your son. I'm Daniel Barrett's son.
"We have a deal. I'll work for you. I won't tell her."
"What are you going to do? How are you going to keep it from her?" he asked with interest.
"I'm going to break both our hearts." My voice sounded dead even to my own ears.
He stood looking at me for another second as if I was some form of alien that had come down from a distant planet. Finally, he held out his hand. I walked forward and grasped it. We shook. It was done. I felt as if I'd just made a deal with the devil. And now I was going to hell.
**********
Tenleigh stood in my doorway, moving her head from side to side. She opened her mouth once to speak, but then snapped it closed. "Can I come in?" she asked. I hesitated.
"Tenleigh, my house, it doesn't look so nice."
"None of our houses look nice."
"I know, but what I mean—"
"Let me in, Ky." Her voice was weak.
Shit. As I drew in a much-needed breath, I felt ashamed she would see what my place had become—or rather, what it had not. But it was time to own up to what I'd done. I moved aside and she passed in front of me. I shut the door and turned to her as she looked around. I never bought new furniture or a stove. The pipe still hung from the ceiling like a daily reminder of the life I never got to live. I never unpacked the boxes I'd packed almost four years ago. I still didn't even have a bed. I slept on the floor in a pile of blankets, a couple space heaters nearby to keep me alive in the winter. There were containers sitting everywhere to catch the water that leaked from the roof.
