You'd never really known your biological mom; she disappeared when you were very young. You'd grown up with a single father, who wasn't terrible at the job, but wasn't the most emotionally present person either. Still, you never wanted for anything material; dad made a ton of money, and he set up a very substantial trust fund in your name.
At 16, you're a shortish, slender lad with a deep hunger for affection. That's probably why you were so drawn to Beverly. When she looked at you, you felt seen, you felt cared about. When she asked you a question, it felt like she really wanted to hear your answer, she wasn't just filling conversational space. When she held you, you felt safe. When she tickled you, you laughed, and didn't feel self-conscious about looking silly, because Beverly made it okay.
Then one day, you get home from school and there are police cars in front of your house, not to mention a couple of black government SUVs full of humorless men in suits. Some of them question you pretty sharply about what you kow about your dad and his money. It turns out that the money you'd always taken for granted came from stock fraud, securities fraud, mail fraud, insurance fraud, bank fraud, and two cases of identity fraud. Long story short: your dad is a fraud and the cops can prove it, so they're taking him away.
After the cops pull away, you're left in the house alone. You sit stunned, trying to comprehend what your life would be like now. A knock came at the door. You open it to find Mona, one of your dad's lawyers. "Hi, I'm here to help figure out what your life will be like now," she says.
She comes in, and you catch a whiff of the musky, dark perfume she favors. You think you remember her saying once that it came from Morocco. She's a tall, dark-haired woman with olive skin and high cheekbones. She favors dark suits cut to make the most of her body, but wears her hair up in a very professional high bun.
"So, the good news is, you're not going to be on the street," she begins. "Your trust fund is not part of the assets frozen by your father's arrest, and neither is this house. There's a homestead exemption under... never mind, it's complicated. The bad news is, your dad's going away for a long time because, and I say this as the only one of his lawyers not arrested as an accessory, he is SUPER guilty."
"Wait..." you manage, still several laps behind in processing the day's events, "the only one of...?"
"Well, from my own perspective, that's the other good news: I got a promotion. Yesterday, I worked for Halberstram, Halberstram, Van Dorne, & Giancarla. Tomorrow, I'll be running Giancarla & Mossberg, because Danny Mossberg's deserved a partnership for years. Today, I'm here to reassure you that things are going to be very, very hard and scary for you for a little while, but in the end, you're going to be all right."
You don't like the idea of things being very, very hard and scary. That sounds incredibly unpleasant, by definition. You're alone in the world now, and you don't know how to even understand what's happened.
Mona sees your confusion and fear, and tries to be reassuring. "Look, you're in a bad position now, I get that. But you have two things going for you that most people in bad positions don't have. You have money, and you have, if I say so myself, a very smart lawyer."
"I... I don't understand," you finally say. "You say I'm in a bad position... I don't get what that means."
Mona's face falls a bit, and you realize, with embarrassment, that she feels sorry for you. She must have been assuming that you understood your situation, and has been talking to you like you're someone who knows what's going on. Now she has to dumb it down to a level she wasn't prepared for.
"Uh, the issue is," she begins carefully, "you're still a minor. I mean, for legal purposes. And you have no legal guardian. So someone has to... be responsible for you. Technically, you're supposed to go to a foster home or something, but--"
That's as far as she gets before you run out of the house. You can't face the idea of being thrown to the mercy of the system, you can't imagine who you're going to be now. The structures that kept your life held up have been jerked out from underneath you, so you run to the one person you can trust: Beverly.
You reach her doorstep, panting from your run, and even as you reach to knock, she opens the door, having seen you coming through the window. She's just in an old sweatshirt and pajama pants, but at that moment she's the most beautiful creature you've ever seen, and you would do anything for her. She holds her arms out welcomingly, and you fall helplessly into her embrace
She holds you close as your panting turns to sobbing, and, resting your head on the infinitely comforting cushion of her breasts, you choke out everything that's happened to you, and the terrible position you find yourself in. She murmurs soothing words in your ear, keeping you safe within her arms and promising she'll find a way to make everything all right. Somehow this ends up with you in her bed. Not the way you'd so often imagined being in her bed, but with her tucking you in. The exhaustion of the day overwhelms you, and you're drifting off even as Beverly plants a gentle kiss on your temple.
The last thing you hear is her saying "You just sleep, sweetie, I'll make sure you're taken care of."  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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