Stand In For My Sister As Mrs. Weston Chapter 05
I got the address for the gaming cafe Trevor frequented from the housekeeper.
I pushed open the door. A wall of cigarette smoke hit me in the face.
I scanned the room and spotted Trevor in the corner.
He was with a couple of bleach-blond punks, a cigarette dangling from his lips, cursing at some video game.
The second he saw me, pure irritation flickered across his face.
“What are you doing here? God, you’re so annoying.”
The punks stood up, crowding around me.
“Hey there, pretty lady. You here for Trevor?
“He doesn’t know how to treat a woman. How about we teach him some manners for you?”
They grinned at me, nasty and leering, thinking they could scare me easily.
I didn’t even look at them.
I walked straight to the front counter, pulled a stack of cash from my bag, and slammed it down on the desk.
“I’m buying out the whole place for the afternoon.
“Everybody out. Now.”
The cafe owner’s jaw dropped. He immediately started nodding and scrambling to clear the place.
The punks just stood there, stunned. They clearly hadn’t seen that coming.
Soon, it was just Trevor and me in the café.
He looked at me, a flicker of panic in his eyes.
I walked up to him. I didn’t yell. Didn’t lecture.
I just looked at him, calm and steady.
“You think playing video games and running with guys like that makes you cool?”
He jutted his chin out, stubborn and silent.
“Fine.”
I nodded.
“Let me show you what happens to people who actually try to live that life.”
I dragged him out of the café and drove straight to the most dangerous block in the city.
Trash laid everywhere. The sharp smell of drrugs hung in the air.
I pointed at the scruffy, lifeless gang members wandering around.
“See them? When they were your age, they probably thought school was useless too, that running the streets was cool.
“Now they can’t live normal lives. They’re addicted to drrugs. All they did is steal, rob and fight. One wrong move, and they lost their lives.”
I pointed at a nearby alley where a group of young men fought with knives.
“Is this the life you want?”
The rawness of it hit Trevor like a physical blow. He’d grown up pampered and privileged. For the first time, he looked genuinely shaken, lost.
He looked at those people fighting just to survive, then down at himself.
That arrogance in his face finally flickered and died.
I didn’t notice the car parked not far behind us.
Inside, Jodi had her phone up, snapping away, capturing photos of me and Trevor in this block.
Jodi moved fast.
Darla called before Trevor and I were even home.
I answered, and her shrill shouting came blasting through the phone.
“Have you no shame, Bethany?
“How dare you drag my grandson to there?
“You’ve dragged the Weston family name through the mud!”
She hung up before I could get a word in.
Then my phone pinged.
She’d added me to a group chat called “The Weston Family.”
Inside, she’d posted several of the photos Jodi had taken.
There I was, standing on the street, in a plain T-shirt and jeans, with the chaos of the block behind me.
