Costars (New York City Bad Boy Romance) (81 page)

“Really?”
I ask. “You don’t like him?”

“What?”
my mom asks, “Why would you say that?”

“You
just said that you wouldn’t waste a minute with him,” I remind her.

“No,”
she says, “I meant that I would be bent over the arm of the couch with my pants
around my—”

OMG.

“Is
there any way I could get you to not finish that sentence?” I interrupt with a
shudder.

“Do
you love him?” she asks.

“Can
we talk about something else?” I return.

“If
you don’t, that’s okay, sweetheart,” she says. “I just want to know that you’re
well taken care of.”

“I
like him,” I tell her. “I think love is a ways off, though.”

I
was lying to myself…to my mom. I hoped the questions would stop by saying that.

“Is
there potential for it?” she asks.

I
was wrong.

“I
don’t know,” I tell her, “maybe.”

“Oh,
I hope so,” she says. “The two of you would have the most beautiful
grandchildren. Don’t you think?”

“I
really haven’t given it that much thought,” I answer.

“No,”
she says. “I was talking to
him
.”

I
spin around and sure enough, Eric’s in the doorway with a bottle of diet cherry
cola in his hand.

He
pretends like he doesn’t hear the question and, opening the bottle and handing
it to my mother, he says, “I think this was the last one, but if you like, we
can pick you up some from the store so you have them while you’re here.”

“That’s
very kind of you,” my mom says and I know the smile on her face is in reaction
to the hot redness of my face. “I was just asking my daughter if she thought
the two of you had a future together and she didn’t seem to have a clear answer
to the question. I was hoping maybe you might.”

It’s
been so long since I’ve dated anyone that I’d forgotten about her little gambits
with my significant others.

She
did something similar with Will when I was in high school, only that time it
took the form of asking him whether he had any useful knowledge about the
female anatomy. After he left and I demanded an explanation, she just told me
that it was a character question.

When
I pressed her on the subject, she said that there was no right answer. If he
said yes, he would be admitting that he’s either slept with me or some other
floozy (she made sure to include the word “other” before the word “floozy)
before he and I got together. If he said no, then he was an idiot. The truth,
she said, was in
how
he answered, not
what he answered.

“I
don’t know,” he says. “The relationship’s still very new, but I’m hopeful.”

He
looks at me and then winks. And that’s all it took to fill my body with warmth.

“And
what are you hoping for?” my mom asks.

“How’s
your treatment going?” I ask, knowing it to be a futile exercise.

“The
doctors are hopeful,” my mom says.

I
did kind of open the door for her on that one.

“Thank
you for the cola, dear,” my mom says and for a minute, she stares off at the
TV.

A
doctor comes in the room, but doesn’t say anything. He just checks her SATs and
walks back out again as quickly as he entered.

“When
I was Jessica’s age,” my mom tells Eric as she continues to stare at the
television screen, “I never thought that I was going to meet the right man.
Then,” she says, turning toward me, “your father came along.”

“That’s
very—” I start, but my mom isn’t done.

“Then
I
knew
I was never going to meet the
right man,” she howls.

Eric
and I look at each other uncomfortably for a moment, waiting for my mom to stop
laughing.

Finally,
she catches her breath and says, “Your sister was here earlier. Did you hear
that insect she’s been dating managed to slip one by the armed guards?”

Eric
cocks his head, not understanding, but my answer to my mom’s question clarifies
things well enough, “Yeah, she told me she’s pregnant.”

“Now,
there’s a grandchild I already know is going to need some counseling,” my mom
says. “It wouldn’t be so bad if your sister’s boyfriend wasn’t such a twat.”

“Mom!”
I exclaim and Eric quickly turns away, unable to hide the fact that his
shoulders are sharply moving up and down.

“He
is, dear,” my mom says. “I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone who’s that
high-strung, and I raised
you
for
crying out loud.”

“I
think your daughter is wonderful,” Eric says, finally able to contain himself.

“Which
one?” my mom asks. “The one that carrying twat seed or the one that’s so caught
up with work, she forgot to have a life?”

“I
planned on having a life when I was younger, Mom,” I tell her, “but you did a
pretty good job convincing me that nothing I ever did was going to be good
enough.”

I’d
hoped that the conversation wouldn’t devolve into this, but I really should
have known better. Even from her hospital bed, my mom’s still the queen of
nastiness.

“It
made you try harder, though, didn’t it?” my mom asks.

“It
made me feel like I couldn’t do anything right,” I tell her. “It made me think
that the best I could ever hope for was that a man would take pity on me and
save me from my own stupidity!”

“Now
dear,” my mom says, “do try to not raise your voice in front of the help.”

“The
help?!” I exclaim.

Eric’s
eyes are wide, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I
will have you know that this man is the best thing that’s happened to me in a
long time and no, I don’t know where our relationship’s going, but he’s a
decent person and he actually cares about me enough to try to help me feel
better when I’m worried about you and your bullshit!”

“So,
you think this is going to be it for you, do you?” she asks.

“That’s
way over the line,” I tell her. “He’s my boyfriend, and I’m not going to sit
here while you talk about him this way. Come on, Eric, we’re going.”

I
stand and march to the door, but a sound from my mother’s bed stops me in my
tracks.

Boiling,
I spin around to find her with a wide smile on her face and laughter coming out
of her throat.

“What
is so funny?” I ask.

“You
never did understand,” she says, laughing. “I’m not the demon you think me to
be, dear. Now sit back down and let’s talk for a minute.”

“I
don’t want to sit back down,” I tell her. “I’m glad the surgery went well, and
I hope you can get back home soon, but—”

“Jessica?”
Eric interrupts.

“What?!”
I yell, turning back toward him.

“I
think I get it,” he says.

“Get
what?” I ask.

“He’s
your boyfriend, dear,” my mom says behind me.

“I
hardly think that’s a call for you to make,” I start, but then it hits me.

My
mom just gives words to the thought, “Well, you said so yourself. Didn’t you?”

I
guess I did.

“Sometimes
people need a little pressure to realize what they want and what they feel,” my
mom says. “You
were
always a little
tougher to crack than your sister. It’s a good thing Eric’s here, otherwise you
might have just thought I was being cruel for the sake of being cruel. Say what
you want about how you feel, dear, but you just stood up for him in a pretty
profound way. You don’t usually do that sort of thing unless you really care
for someone.”

“Even
if that was your goal the whole time,” I tell her, “that doesn’t mean you have
the right to talk about people that way.”

“And
you’re still defending him,” my mom says and starts making kissing motions with
her mouth.

“Come
on,” I tell Eric and I storm out of the room.

He
follows me down the hall, but I’m to the elevator before he catches up.

“Are
you okay?” he asks.

“I
don’t know,” I answer. “I’m angry and I’m frustrated and I’m embarrassed—okay,
mostly I’m embarrassed.”

“There’s
nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I
know,” I tell him. “Well, I could have thought through introducing you to my
mother a little more carefully.”

“Hey,”
he says, “if nothing else, I think we just had the talk.”

I
look up him and, as the elevator doors open, he smiles and takes my hand.

“I
think I’d be okay with being your boyfriend,” he says.

“Romantic
as always,” I scoff and we get on the elevator.

Chapter Eighteen

A Constellation of Little
Surprises

Eric

We
pull up to Jessica’s parents’ house and sit out front, the car still running.

“I
realize that we probably should have had that talk in private,” she says. “In
my defense, I kind of tried to do it before we got to the hospital.”

“It’s
all right,” I chuckle. “All things considered, I’m just glad it happened.”

I
lean over and slowly press my lips against hers, but only for a moment.

“I
have to warn you about my dad,” she says while looking into my eyes.

“You
know, your mom really wasn’t that bad and you warned me about her. I think I’ll
be all right,” I answer.

“She’s
the more overtly abrasive of the two, but my dad is by far more protective. I’m
just saying stay on your toes. He has a way of trapping you in an uncomfortable
situation before you’re even aware you’re in it,” she says.

“I’ll
just be my usual charming self,” I tell her. “That usually works pretty well
for me.”

“Yeah,
yeah,” she says. “Just remember that I warned you.”

I’m
not going to lie, I am a little nervous now, but I’m just here to help her
collect her things. We probably won’t even be here that long.

We
get out of the car and I follow Jessica up to the door.

“Just
think about everything you’re about to say before you say it,” she says.
“Better yet, think about everything my dad says before you decide to say anything
back.”

“Jessica,”
I tell her, “it’s going to be fine. I’ve met the guy before and he seemed nice
enough then.”

“Yeah,
that was before he got all curious about the nature of our relationship,” she
sighs. “Well, here we go,” she says and opens the front door.

We
walk in and she calls out to her dad, letting him know that we’re here.

“I’ll
be down in a minute!” he shouts back from somewhere upstairs. “I thought you
said you were going to call first!”

“Shit,”
she says. “I kind of forgot about that. My dad’s one of those guys who thinks
that boxers are appropriate attire in the home. The family’s used to it, but
just in case he comes around the corner with his gut hanging out, I just want
you to be prepared.”

“I’m
sure it’s endearing,” I tell her.

We
stand in the entryway, Jessica says to “minimize the chances of coming into
view of hanging brain,” and a few minutes later, there are footsteps coming
down the stairs.

“I
was already getting dressed when you came in,” her father says as he comes into
view, thankfully fully clothed. “Ah, Eric,” he says. “It’s nice to see you
again.”

“Nice
to see you again, too, sir,” I respond.

“You
didn’t tell her, did you?” he asks.

“I
did not,” I answer. “Your secret’s safe with me?”

“What
secret?” Jessica asks, turning alternately to me and then to her dad and back
to me while fidgeting with her watch.

“I
wouldn’t worry about it,” I tell her. “How are you doing tonight, sir?”

“Oh,
call me Harold,” he says. “Do you like cannabis?”

There’s
a question I didn’t expect.

“I
don’t know,” I tell him. “I can’t say that I’ve tried it.”

“Would
you like to?” he asks.

“Dad…”
Jessica moans.

“Right,”
Harold responds. “Well, you said you wanted to come by and pick up some stuff.
What did you need?”

“I
just wanted to grab some things from my closet,” Jessica says. “Eric’s going to
give me a hand—we really don’t have that much time.”

“I’m
sorry to hear that,” Harold says and turns to me. “Early morning tomorrow,
huh?”

“What?
No,” I answer.

Jessica
elbows me in the arm.

“What?”
I ask, turning toward her.

“We’re
just going to head upstairs real quick,” she says to her dad. “I’m sorry we
can’t stay longer.”

“Well,
maybe your friend here can keep me company while you’re upstairs getting things
together,” he says. “How does that sound, Eric?”