Pressing Buttons (#1 in the Sinful Series)

The call rang through the apartment, ripping through the dead silence of the small, pristine place. I ignored it at first, believing it to be no more then scammers, and returning to my reading.

It silenced for a few moments before starting again, demanding. I glared at the phone from the sofa, not entirely thrilled with whomever felt the need to call at 10 at damn night.

Rolling my eyes, I placed my sticky note in the page before making my way over to the phone.

“Hello?” I answered, a bit aggravated.

A calm, deep voice was on the other end, speaking quickly and quietly. When they were done, and the click signifying the end of the call sounded, I still held it to my ear, not believing, not even noticing the silent drops of saltwater training down my cheeks.

Only when the phone dropped from my hand what felt like years later, did I fall to my knees, letting my earth shattering cry rip through the night.

====================

The funeral was 2 weeks later, taking place in a shaded corner of the cemetery. I wore smeared mascara and a flowing black dress. One of the ones she always wanted me to wear. I used to laugh when she suggested it, telling her I would never be caught dead in something so feminine. She used to laugh when I said that, telling me she wouldn’t give up.

We used to do a lot of things, I thought, as the men lowered her carcass into the ground.

We used to do a lot of things, my mother and I.

====================

It had been two months since my mother’s death. Two months I’ve done little besides stare at the wall, memorizing the crevices, bumps, and stains. I had no friends or family to check up on me, making sure I was okay.

It was strange life with her. She always made sure we lived life secretly, always keeping extra bags packed, fake IDs and cash on hand. She always said she did it so we could live spontaneously, leaving whenever the desire took us. Somehow though, I always got the distinct impression that she was less worried about running to something, and more worried about running away from something.

Or someone, my subconscious adds.

I shook my head, clearing the thoughts. Ever since the reading of her will, since I found out about my father and the 3 million dollars she had leftover in her trust fund for me, my head buzzed with questions.

Why would she want me to go to my father? Why did they split up in the first place? Is he who she was running from? Where did all the money come from?

I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t sit in this house with questions, when I should be out there, getting the answers. I’ve been pathetic long enough.

I closed my eyes. I am Jade Karly. I am not a coward. I’m not done yet.

I opened my eyes, lifted myself off the ground and went to pack my things.

====================

I pulled my small, beat up truck into the parking lot of a cheap looking motel, five miles from the address my mother gave me in her will.

It had taken me days to drive here, to the town of Auburn City, Utah, from my small home in Florida. Auburn was an exception to the desert of Utah. It was surrounded by trees, which looked pretty cool with all the 30 story high buildings.

I turned off my truck, and made my way into the small motel office. If the motel looked as old as the pyramids, the office looked like it was made in the Big Bang. Dust and cobwebs covered the place, rats scurried along walls, and mold covered almost every corner. There was a skinny teen at the desk, one hand stuck in a bag of pork grinds, the other flipping a page in what I was sure to be a Playboy magazine.

Looking up at me, he snaps to a standing position, pork grinds falling onto the floor.

“He-hello. Welcome to the, uh, Auburn Motel. Di-did you want a room booked by the, umm, hour or one for a night or two?” he stammered.

I would’ve burst out laughing if my mother was here. She would’ve said something along the lines of, ‘I know. You are temporarily blinded by our beauty. Don’t worry, happens to the best of them. Just don’t give yourself a heart attack.’

I looked down, willing the tears to dissipate.

“Um, a room for the next two nights if you don’t mind. I might not even be here that long.”

He nodded, handing me a key from the desk drawer next to him. I took it and left the office quickly.

====================

I had finished my lunch at a small diner when I decided it was a better time than never to meet my father. I had changed into my dirty blue ripped jeans, a plain white T, and my leather jacket.

I paid for my soggy grilled cheese, and left. I started my truck and began to drive down the road, following the directions the GPS gave me to get to my father’s house. For a second, I began to wonder if my father even remembered me. Maybe he had his own shiny new family, forgetting about his damaged one. Fury shot threw my system at the thought.

There would be no way I would go quietly into that good night if he planned on keeping me in his past after my fucking mother just died. He would hear every question I had, and answer them, wether I had to sleep on his damn doorstep or not.

The thoughts from my head suddenly vanished from my head as Siri commanded me to turn into the parking lot of what looked like a warehouse. I raised an eyebrow, but obeyed, parking near the entrance.

After double checking the address twice, I shrugged, deciding maybe he just worked here.

I walked into the warehouse, immediately coming up to a set of black curtains. I narrowed my eyes before walking in.

The sight that greeted me was not what I expected.