Love or War?

Chapter Eight

In orchestra the next day Bradly strolled up to me as I sat in my seat, absently playing the same for bars of the Mozart Impressario Overture.

"Hey Kitty Ka-"

"Quit calling me that," I snapped, then added, "please."

He looked the same, cocky, superficial, sure of himself. What was one date though, in light of everything else?

"I can't play today, my D string snapped." He held out his violin and the string dangled limply, looped around the fine tuners.

"That sucks, Brad." I caught Jeffrey eyeing us warily and then sighing as Mr. Ferro walked out of his office.

"So, for Friday night I was thinking that we could hit up that new pizza place East West Avenue and then catch a movie?" He sounded sincere that I wondered how he even had another, more cunning and violent side. The war side.

"Okay class!" Mr. Ferro said before I had a chance to answer Brad. "Lets talk about the Fall Concert." There was cheering and he paused, waiting for it to die down.

"We're playing the first movement of the Hayden 82, the Overture to the Marriage of Figaro, and the Mozart Impressario Overture.

"Be here, Tuesday night, at 6:30, concert dress, all the usual, guys, nothing new."

He was right. It was never anything new.

•~•~•~•~•~•

When I walked into the salon that afternoon, Mom was waiting there for me at the desk. I dumped my stuff behind the chair and faced her.

"Hun, I have some news!" For a moment I thought she might tell me about the divorce, but he sounded too happy. I gave her a questioning look.

"I'm promoting you!" she cried, and I gripped the counter, confused.

"To what?"

"Manager!" Wait, what? Manager?! All I'd ever done was work the desk! What did I know about being manager?

"Uh, isn't there anyone else who's, I don't know, more qualified?"

"Come on baby, you know what to do, you've been watching me since you were born!"

"Where are you planning on going?" I asked, suddenly irritated.

"I don't have as much time as I used to, angel, which is why I'm passing the job on to you!"

This divorce was ruining my life.

"Can't you hire someone else?"

"I'm hiring someone else to work the desk and help out also. A lot of the employees have been complaining that there aren't enough people around to help." She rolled her eyes and looked around at the nearly full salon.

"Work the desk this week, but staring next Wednesday you're manager!" She clapped her hands excitedly and walked away. I flopped down into my chair - soon to be someone else's chair - and groaned.

"It's gonna be fine Kitty Kat," Aaron cooed, gently rubbing my shoulders. so sighed, leaning into his hands before burying my face in my own.

"What do I know about being manager?" I repeated.

"We'll help you, don't worry," Ryan proclaimed from behind Jenna - a college sophomore who loved our salon. I stared at the ceiling, my head throbbing.

"Promise?" I asked unhappily.

"Promise," replied half of the guys in sync.

Maybe my real family was dysfunctional, but this one wasn't.

•~•~•~•~•~•

After school the following day, my Dad was finally home. I poked my head into his office and saw him sitting at his desk, staring at his computer screen intently, surrounded by boxes piled up to his head.

I was going to miss seeing him here when he left for... wherever he was planning on escaping to.

"Hey Dad," I said, smiling at him as I slowly crossed the room. His head snapped towards me and it was like something out of a horror movie. His bloodshot eyes, and the heavy bags beneath them. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days and I tried to remember when I had last seen him.

"Get out of here Katherine, I'm working," he said harshly and I felt myself shrinking inwards.

Katherine.

He never called me that.

"Sorry," I squeaked, "I just wanted to say hi." I don't know what I was expecting; this divorce was flipping my life upside down and backwards.

"Why are you still here? Get out!" he barked and I scrambled for the door. I'd never seen my Dad so upset, so angry. I bolted into my room and dove under my sheets like a little kid running from the dark. I couldn't believe I was afraid of my own father.

The man who took me out for ice cream and came to my soccer games and cello recitals. For the first time through this whole divorce, through the secrets, the lonely nights and the pain, I cried.

I cried and I cried and I cried until my eyes stung and I feared my lips would permanently taste of salt.