Not Us: Isla & Brixton

Chapter 8

Isla's POV

Goldie dropped me off at my building before going back to her place in Soho. I knew my family was already inside. I had no idea what had been done and what hadn't. I also knew I had limited time to get all his shit out and get the locks changed. He was arrested yesterday, which means he'd probably be out at some point today on bail. Same with Sasha. I tried my key and it didn't work.

That's one thing off the list.

I knocked on the door and Daddy opened it up. He wrapped me in a hug. When he didn't come back right away, I felt many more arms and hands wrapping around us. I knew it was Mama and my big brothers. All four of them. I knew Wilder was staying in the city since his new restaurant just opened here, but I didn't know where the other three and Mama and Daddy were staying.

Daddy pulled away, and we all moved to the living room to sit and talk. We needed a plan.

"What's the plan baby girl?"

"I want him and everything he bought out. I want to bring stuff in that's my style. I'm going to press charges of adultery on both of them. I've got Brighton working on the divorce papers and the 'Alienation of Affection' lawsuit against that floozy." Mama and Daddy nodded. My brothers all looked ready to pummel the asshole if he ever showed up. They'd always been incredibly overprotective. I was the unexpected baby that Mama got pregnant with on birth control. Daddy had always wanted a little girl. He used to tell me he was tired of boys who looked like him. He wanted a girl who looked like Mama.

Daddy clapped his hands, pulling me out of the memory. "Boys. We start with the furniture," Daddy handed me a pad of sticky notes. "Darlin' put these on whatever goes. We'll take care of it."

"Nothing can be broken or he can say I owe him a replacement. Also, Mama, I need to make a list and take photos of everything as proof that everything went fine and I didn't damage anything." Everyone nodded and we got to work. It might not take all day with this many people working on it. Maybe a trip to IKEA after we were done?

The fellas were moving the furniture and boxes and suitcases down to the lobby, and 'helping' packing Stanley's stuff up. We'd filled the two suitcases he had pretty quickly. We then got to filling the boxes, which I think my twin older brothers, Sonny and Wilder found in the dumpster around the corner of the building. His shoes, paperwork, everything that wouldn't fit in the suitcases went into those stinky dumpster boxes. Anything he bought with his credit card was making its way downstairs. I took photos of everything, Mama was making a detailed list.

Daddy called the building manager and explained what was going on and that a locksmith would be by to change the locks and that Stanley Taft was no longer a resident of the building. He also explained to the doorman, who he left a generous tip to, to make sure nothing was taken until either Anita or Stanley showed up to collect his belongings.

"Might want to call him, or his mother to come get his stuff," Mama suggested when we were about halfway through packing. I nodded at her and pulled out my phone. She followed me into the kitchen, the quietest room in the place. I pulled up Anita's contact info on my phone. After four rings, she answered not bothering to say 'hello' and all pretense of politeness was thrown out the window.

"You've got some nerve calling me, you little—"

"There's no need for name calling Anita. He was cheating. There's proof. Undeniable proof. I was just letting you know that his stuff is being set downstairs in the lobby of the building. It needs to be picked up. The locks have already been changed." I interrupted her. Because honestly, her son was in the wrong. I did nothing to deserve this. And if I had to guess, it was at her urging that he did what he did. She'd never liked me. Always thought I was some country bumpkin who didn't know proper etiquette or anything.