Mafia King's Contract Breeder
Chapter 2 The Admission Letter

Chapter 2: 2 The Admission Letter

Lara’s POV

"I’m home!"

I turned the key in the lock. Then the second lock. And the third. Closing the front door behind me, I locked it all up again and drew the latch for good measure.

Home was a narrow, two-storey terraced house with walls as thin as paper and bare concrete floors. I heard a thud from upstairs.

"Chloe?"

I was just about to go upstairs when the locks began to turn behind me.

A moment later, a round, middle-aged woman with frizzy blonde curls pulled open the door, chuckling and red in the face.

Meet: my mother, Mrs Christina Brinson.

She took one step inside, her face turning from gleeful to crestfallen the moment she caught sight of me.

"Lara, my love," she said in her hoarse, smokey voice. "You’re back early."

I held out my hand.

"Give it to me."

My voice was ice cold, not a muscle in my face twitching.

"What?"

"The money."

"I ain’t got money!" My mom lifted her voice as though volume equaled innocence.

"Give it here. We need to buy groceries. How much did you win?"

"I wasn’t gambling," said the great liar, bustling past me to the kitchen. "We bought groceries yesterday. How much can two skinny girls eat?"

"No, we haven’t bought groceries since last week. There’s nothing but dry pasta and lentils in the cupboards." I followed her, not taking my eyes off her for even a second.

Mom pulled open the fridge door and immediately slammed it shut again, turning around to face me.

"Alright, Lara, you better pick up some groceries today then."

I shouldered past her and opened the fridge door. The horrible, putrid smell of curdled milk hit me in the face, driving my temper higher.

After the night that I had, this was what I had to return to.

"Christina fucking Brinson!" I roared. "Why is the electricity off? I gave you money to pay the electric bill on Tuesday!"

I narrowed my eyes, scanning her from her faded pink t-shirt to her sweatpant bottoms. I pounced on her, diving for the pockets. My mom dashed away faster than I would have thought possible for her age and weight.

An empty cereal box fell off the kitchen table with a clatter as Mom’s elbows caught in the cramped space.

"Oi! Stop that! I’m your mother! Kids these days don’t know the meaning of respect," she grumbled as she dodged away from me, my attempts to grab at her parried by flabby arms.

"I’ll respect you as my mother when you fucking act like it," I snarled. "Now give me the money so I can pay the fucking electric bill and buy groceries. And you’re cleaning the damn fridge!"

"Fine! Fine! Stop molesting me, you little perv!"

Mom finally gave.

She reached not into the pockets of her baggy sweatpants, but lifted her t-shirt and pulled a wad of cash from her bra.

"Ew."

I grimaced, but closed my fist around the cash anyway.

"What do you mean, ew, these titties made you," mom grouched.

I could tell from her tone that she still had money, because she didn’t sound nearly devastated enough by me taking it. But I really could not be bothered to pick another fight for the rest of it. Not today.

Instead, I ignored her and went upstairs, as I had originally planned to.

"Lara."

I smiled.

"Morning, honey."

My sister Chloe popped her head out of the room that we had shared ever since we had been little girls. We inherited the opposite set of colouring from mom and dad - I had dad’s red hair and green eyes, Chloe was blonde and blue-eyed like mom. But unlike Mrs Christina Brinson, who had completely given up on taking care of her appearance since dad went to prison, my sister’s blonde hair hung in neat, straight sheets, blue eyes clear and untouched by the filth of the world.

"I have good news," she said, beaming brightly.

I gasped. All the anger and frustration that I had been feeling faded away.

At least something was going right.

"Your admission letter arrived already? Which one?"

Chloe nodded enthusiastically.

"Greenwood Community College! Look!"

She took out the hand that she had been hiding behind her back and waved a stack of paper at me. Green, glossy paper, inviting Chloe to study art at Greenwood Community College.

"That’s incredible, darling, well done!"

I hugged Chloe, squeezing her hard. My little girl was almost as tall as me now!

"I am so proud of you. You work so hard, and you deserve the world, honey."

Chloe’s smile faltered a fraction. She nodded quickly.

"I couldn’t have done it without you, Lara."

I brushed past the praise, biting my lip as a question occurred to me.

"But wait. Greenwood was your safe school. What about the other colleges that you applied to, the better ones? What was the name of that fancy one – Clarinton? Have they not responded to you yet? We should wait until you get all your responses, so that you can choose the best one."

"They turned me down," said Chloe.

Too quickly.

Way too quickly.

And I knew that she would be at least disappointed, if that was the case. Chloe had worked day and night on the art portfolio that she sent the school. Her best work.

"No, they didn’t."

"Lara–" Chloe groaned. She crossed her arms, holding the admission papers from Greenwood in front of her like a shield.

"You’re lying," I said, putting a hand on my hip. "I’ve known you since you were in diapers, babe. How did you think you could pull that one over me?"

Chloe made a face, turning back into our room.

"Lara, just drop it, please. Greenwood is fine. Great. Achievable."

"We didn’t work this hard so that you could settle for second best, Chloe."

There used to be two beds, but there was only one now, because I worked all night. I just crashed in Chloe’s bed during the day. It made space for a small desk by the window, piled high with textbooks, with graphic drawings pinned up all over the walls. Flowers. Animals. And portraits, too. Chloe made me look so good in her paintings.

Chloe sat down on the bed. I sat down beside her and shook her shoulder.

"What is it? Just tell me."

Chloe let out a defeated sigh. She could never say no to me for long.

Although she was only three years younger, I had practically been her mother growing up.

"Okay, fine. But if I tell you, you’ll respect my decision about which offer to accept."

"Sure," I agreed easily.

"Clarinton gave me an offer."

"They gave you an offer! That’s huge! That school is the most selective arts academy in the country. It’s just a sign of how talented you are!"

"—But they turned down my application for scholarship. And it’s three times the price of Greenwood, so–" she shrugged. "That’s that."

"But do you realise how incredible that is?" I said. "Clarinton really only accepts rich kids for programmes like art. Their alumni have art hanging in the national galleries. And you made it from the slums."

It was a miracle.

Chloe smiled slightly, leaning against my shoulder. I put my arm around her.

"Thanks, sis. But it’s too expensive."

"No, it’s not."

I started running the numbers in my head. Three times the tuition of Greenwood, which I had saved up for Chloe already. Add the cut that I had saved for myself, and that would give Chloe enough for her first year. If I carried on at The Red Door for another year or so...

"We have the money, Chloe, you can go. Don’t worry about it," I said decisively.

My little sister stiffened in my arms.

"Lara, I said no."

"You don’t need to give this up. Think about your future. Being an artist is crazy hard, and the opportunities you can get at Clarinton are completely on a different level."

"Where are you going to get the money, Lara?"

"That’s for me to worry about."

Chloe fell silent for a moment.

"I know you’re not actually a bartender."

"What?" I stopped short in my mental calculations.

Chloe had only been fifteen when I started working at The Red Door, so I told her that I worked late into the night because I had a bartender job instead of giving her details that young girls don’t need to know. God knows she had already been exposed to far too much fucked up stuff just from having Mr and Mrs Brinson for parents, let alone the festering den of crime that we lived in.

"I’m not a kid anymore! Some boys in my class– they’re running with the gangs– they told me what you do."

My blood turned to ice.

I had always feared this moment, terrified that Chloe would see me differently when she learned where my money came from. Maybe she would be ashamed of what I do and think that my money is dirty.

"And?" I said lightly, refusing to meet her eyes.

"How do you think that makes me feel?" Chloe shouted, her voice shaking.

I flinched.

"Chloe—"

The words caught in my throat.

My sister would be a famous artist one day, I knew it. She must be ashamed to have a whore for a sister.

"–I’m a burden on you! I’m always keeping you down just because I exist, and I don’t want that."

Chloe’s voice cracked with tears. She dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders heaving as she held back sobs.

That was what she was worried about?

"That’s not how it is at all," I said firmly. "I do what I do of my own free choice. You are not a burden."

I pulled her to face me by her shoulders.

"Hey. Look at me."

Chloe’s blue eyes, usually so clear, swirled with guilt and conflict as she looked at me.

I smiled brightly.

"Whatever you’re imagining, it’s not that bad, alright? I know how to take care of myself, I don’t take any shit. Don’t feel bad for me, that’s ridiculous."

"Really?" she said doubtfully.

"Really. I like what I do. It’s easy money. And you should do what you really want, too. Now honestly, do you want to go to Clarinton Academy?"

Chloe hesitated, biting her lip. I could see the answer. I always knew the answer.

"But Lara, I don’t need you to–"

"It’s not a problem, sweetheart. Don’t hold yourself back."

I was dreading the moment when I had to face Rob again the next night. But I would do what needs to be done.

At least one of us should get our dreams, right?