Forgetting Popper (Los Rancheros #3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

page for me. “This is your last
known account balance.” I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he
swallows. He definitely looks nervous.
    “This says one hundred thousand dollars. I
don’t see the problem,” I tell him as I look over the numbers.
    “Do you know what you’re mortgage is, Sadie?”
he asks me, dumbly I think.
    “My house is paid for,” I tell him
deliberately.
    “No. It’s not. Who told you that?” he shoots
back.
    “Brian . . .” I say, looking closer at the
withdrawals. “So this is tens of thousands of dollars put into
their accounts.”
    “Yes. Brian and—”
    “Tammy,” I finish.
    “I’ve been trying to get you in here for
months because this is what the numbers say every month. You charge
everything, correct?” he asks. I think back to my entire adult
life, where I’ve never thought about anything but what I wanted and
sliding over a black AmEx card.
    “I . . . I suppose,” I say, looking at the
number more carefully.
    “You thought you had your parents in an
assisted living facility in Oregon, I assume?”
    “Assume?” I croak. Of course I thought they
were taken care of. What kind of person does he think I am?
    “They’ve been in a state facility for the
last five years. When’s the last time you checked your
finances?”
    I blink. “I don’t understand,” I mumble,
flipping through the statements, looking for another zero or
comma.
    Batty’s big hand comes down on top of my
endless flipping. “Brian and Tammy have been syphoning off money
from you since you were fifteen years old. They haven’t been taking
the ten percent they signed for.”
    “So you’re saying?” I ask numbly.
    “That you’re broke.”
    I sigh loudly and close my eyes. “Where are
my parents?” I mumble.
    “When’s the last time you saw them?” he asks.
I wave my hand.
    “A long time ago. I thought they were
comfortable. You’re saying they’re in some half bit place waiting
to die?”
    Having spent time in the oncology unit of a
hospital, I understand people giving up hope on someone. I thought
my parents were getting the best money could buy.
“So they’re where?” I ask. I was an accident. My parents had their
kids, were happy, then had a rambunctious spitfire they didn’t know
what to do with. Me.
    “You need to go see your folks. I understand
you intend to quit the band?”
    I lean forward. “You’re saying my brother and
sister stole all of my money and put our parents somewhere that
cost the least amount of money possible?” I ask him, still
incredulous.
    Batty meets my eyes without flinching. “Yes.
I’m sorry, Sadie.”
    I swallow back my emotions. “So . . . my
siblings have been stealing from me since I was a teenager,
treating me like shit, while I thought our parents were taken care
of?” I ask him, just to clarify. At this point, I’m sure I’m
repeating myself, but what the actual fuck?
    “Yes.”
    “And what business is this of yours?” I want
to know why he had someone look into me.
    “Because I pay your salary. At first, I
thought you were just heartless and didn’t care. But after seeing
you with the kids, I knew you weren’t aware of your parent’s
care.”
    I shoot up from my chair. “Of course I didn’t
know!”
    Batty raises his hands. “Sadie—”
    “Shut up.” I run my hands through my greasy
hair as I pace. “Let me think.”
    Batty is quiet in his big leather chair. I
ignore him to think of my almost ten million dollar house on the
beach, my expensive car, everything I’ve pulled out my credit card
for, while my parents were what? Being fed? I don’t fucking
know.
    “Can I sue them?” I ask feebly. My, have the
self-righteous have fallen.
    “Absolutely. It may take years, but I can get
you the information you need,” Batty answers readily.
    “So, in the meantime I do what? I quit. I
can’t go back to singing for that band, Batty. Maury . . . I
can’t,” I drift off.
    “Absolutely fucking not. Maury is a pedophile
as far as