Mockingbird (A Stepbrother Romance) (10 page)

I grab her wrist.

"Stop."

"What? Come on, I"m giving you a freebie."

I zip up.

"Oh my God. Are you a cop?"

I sit back down and sigh. "Believe me, that's about the last thing I am. Besides, I'm allowed to lie if you ask me that. I mean I would be, if I was a cop, which I'm not. Sit."

I pat the bed next to me. She gets off her knees and sits next to me, and I can't stop staring at her impressive cleavage.

"Look, if we're not going to do it, maybe you shouldn't stare at my boobs like that."

"Sorry. I didn't think you'd get high and mighty about it."

"What, just because I let guys pay me for sex, everybody gets to stare at my boobs? No."

I sigh. "I guess I should go then."

"I wasn't kidding about the dinner break thing. You look like you need to talk."

"Uh, okay. Can you, ah, put on some clothes?"

She shrugs, making her breasts bounce nicely in their bra. She puts on quite a show walking over to the dresser, where she bends at the hips and I look away before I stare at her ass too long. When I look back she's slipped into sweats and walks over to drop on the bed.

"I could really use a pint of ice cream," she sighs. "So what's up."

"Um," I say.

"Okay, let's say, hypothetically, I'm a criminal."

"Soliciting a prostitute is a felony, yeah."

"Not like that. I steal things. Big things. Look, this shit is complicated and I can't tell you much."

"I had you pegged for somebody like that. You're not even old enough to gamble."

"Yeah."

"I'm old enough to be your mother."

"You are not."

"Barely. What are you, nineteen?"

"Twenty."

She shrugs. "I'm thirty-seven. "

"Wow. Really?"

She gives me a sharp look.

"Right. Anyway there's this girl, and I don't know what to do."

"I take it you're trying to rob her?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. That's a hell of a thing, isn't it?"

"Not her, but when we do the job it'll hurt her mother a lot, and I’ll have to leave, but I really like her."

"How do you mean, like her? Like you liked me down at the bar, or like-like?"

"You just said like about fifteen times."

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Answer the question."

"I've never… I've been with a lot of girls. Just putting my hand on her hip feels better than sleeping with some of them. There's just something about her that…"

I stop when I realize I'm being laughed at.

"You really are young, aren't you? Oh honey."

I sigh. "Yeah. I don't know what to do."

"Do what feels right. You only get one shot."

She's lying back on the pillows, her arms folded under her head. Dressed in sweatclothes, she just looks like somebody's mom, maybe after a night on the town.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

"Is somebody making you do this?"

She snorts. "What, like a pimp? No. Look, I was an engineer for ten years. I lost my job in the recession, my husband divorced me…"

"Kids?"

"Yeah. I have custody, but kids are expensive, and it's more expensive to move. I get some child support and alimony but it's not enough, so I suck dicks for $500 a pop. A grand for everything, extra $500 for Greek, but only if I trust the guy. Repeat customers only."

"Oh," I say. "Not judging you or anything."

"Good. You go ahead and keep not judging me."

"I… will?"

She shrugs. "I was going to let you go Greek… Jesus, listen to me. I was going to let you do anal if you wanted."

My eyes widen. "Uh, thanks? Just so you know, it's not you. You're very attractive."

"I know, I gave you a hard on. That's a pretty solid indicator. Get it? Solid indicator?"

I have to laugh at that.

"I think I'll get going. Enjoy your lunch break."

"Dinner."

"Whatever. What's your name, anyway?"

"I tell people it's Jenna but it's really Laura."

"Okay, Laura. Here."

I pull out the rest of the cash I brought. With winnings minus drinks and tip for the bartender it adds up to about six thousand. Laura stares at the pile of bills, wide-eyed.

"Take the night off. A few nights, if you can."

"Thanks."

I stand, straighten myself up, and leave the room. The door closes behind me with a heavy finality, and my head swims a bit when I comprehend that I just left six thousand dollars laying on her bed. Too late to go back and get it, now.

What the fuck am I even doing here?

Pockets empty, I wander back down to the parking garage.

I hope Diana is having a better day than I am.

Chapter 6: Diana

My mother can be such a
bitch
.

"What the
hell
was that?" she shouts at the top of her lungs, not five minutes after Apollo and his father (whose name I haven't picked up yet, now that I think about it) drive away.

"Well, what happened was…"

"I know what happened. I want to know why you were on his lap."

Exasperated, I throw my hands up. "Maybe because I find him attractive and I thought he liked me. I didn't know his father was taking you out. We just met."

"It's
we
now?"

"Yes. Wait, no. What? Mom, 'we' is the plural used to refer to two humans."

Her look could cut glass. At that moment, Charity decides to walk into the kitchen, clutching her head.

"Hi," she mumbles."How did I get here?"

"Go back to sleep, Charity," Mom snaps at her.

"Oh. Okay."

She wanders back out to the couch, flops down, and is snoring inside a minute. I go over to roll her onto her side, remembering Apollo's caution against letting her vomit in her sleep. If she throws up on the antique sofa,
 
I guess that would be my fault, too. Mom keeps quiet while I tend to my friend, at least. She doesn't start up on me until I walk back into the kitchen and start cleaning up the boxes. Mom gives me the death glare, her fists planted on her hips.

"Do you think I'm going to just drop this?"

I stand up from the garbage can and glare at her.

"Mom, I'm an adult. I met a guy I liked. I kissed him. It's not a big deal."

"You didn't just let him kiss you, he was groping you. In my house. Have you even been on a proper date?"

"No, but-"

"It doesn't matter. I forbid you to see him. You can't be carousing with my boyfriend's-"

I cut her off, wide-eyed. "Your
boyfriend?"

"I'm divorced. I'm not dead. I won't have you carousing with my boyfriend's son. It's unseemly."

"Why?"

"Because it
is
. I won't have it, do you hear me? You won't have to worry about college, I'll toss you out of my house
now.
"

The plate in my hands falls free, slides through the air and shatters on the floor.

"You had to bring that up, didn't you? I've made up my mind. I don't want to be a history major, Mom. I don't want to work in a museum. I don't want to be
you
."

Her face pinches in fury, but I see a hint of tears at the corner of her eyes, too, and that hurts. I should take back what I said. I should try to explain myself.

"Get out. Get out of my sight, right now."

I bite my lip and clench my hands into fists instead, and storm out of the room, up the stairs, and into my bedroom, where I lock the door. I throw myself across the bed and grab a pillow and hug it to my chest, and squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn't work. Burning tracks rake down my cheeks anyway. She has no right to talk to me that way.

Just once I want her to acknowledge my achievement, not just act like it's
expected
of me. The thing with Apollo only makes it worse. So what if his father is dating her? It's not like we're
related
. I choke the pillow for a while longer, until my rage subsides and I just lay there staring at nothing. I should have kept my mouth shut and did what she told me. Why did I bring this on myself?

We used to be close. We used to be friends. I want that back. Why does
everything
have to make things worse?

She'll come around. She's upset about what I said. I'll apologize. I know she wants me to follow in her footsteps but I'm my own person, and I don't have to. I'd be miserable. I have to find a way to make her see that,
 
but right now I'm drawing a big blank.

By the time I manage to drift off to sleep it's some obscene hour that's closer to dawn than dusk, and I know I won't get much sleep.

I must have forgotten to set the alarm. After a dreamless
 
night I wake up groggy around eleven thirty, swing my legs off the bed and realize I slept in my clothes. I need to get cleaned up, but I need to know the lay of the land first. I hear voices in the
 
kitchen and work my way down quietly to find my mother sitting at the kitchen table, eating pancakes with Charity, who does not seem to grasp the significance of the fact that I am not also eating pancakes with them. Charity groggily looks over and waves at me, then slops more maple syrup on her pancakes and stuffs her mouth.

"Your friend eats like a horse," Mom says, as if she was addressing someone else.

"Thanks, mmm mmmmph," Charity blurts out through a mouthful of food.

Mom smiles at her, thinly.

"I never get to eat like this at home," Charity goes on, having swallowed.

"Do you now?" Mom says, her voice dripping with venom.

"Nah, I have to cook for myself. I tried making pancakes once and it turned into a big lump and got all crusty."

"How awful."

"I get the point," I mutter. "Any left?"

"No, I cooked all the batter."

She rises, undoing her apron. "When she's done, drive her home, will you?"

Before I can answer, she strides out of the room and heads up to her office. I sigh.

"What?" Charity mumbles through her food.

"Nothing, just finish eating."

She takes her time and drinks about a half a gallon of milk with it, and cranberry juice. Apparently my mother recommends it as a hangover cure.

When she's finally finished, we head out to the car.

"What's going on?" she says, as I start it up and sigh.

"You remember Apollo?"

"Who?"

"The guy that carried you out of the party last night."

"What party?"

I smack my forehead on the steering wheel and sigh, and it turns into something between a laugh and a sob.

"It's a long story."

I lay it out for her as briefly as possible as we make the drive back to town. Charity nods attentively the whole time.

"Yeah, that's weird. I mean, is there a protocol for that at all? Daughter dating mom's boyfriend’s son?"

"A protocol?"

"You know. A procedure."

"Charity, for God's sake."

She shrugs. "What do you want me to say? You're probably not going to see this guy again. His father is probably on his ass to keep him away from you. Isn't he older than us anyway?"

"By two years. What's the big deal?"

"I don't know. Shouldn't he be in college?"

"I don't know."

"What do you know? Do you know anything about this guy you started a bitter argument with your mother about?"

I sigh. "I… no. That's not the point. It's not him. Not just him. She wants to control every little part of my life. She's always telling me what to do, demanding reports on where I go, trying to pick my friends, trying to push Lucas on me."

"Have you ever told her about Lucas?"

"She doesn't believe me."

Charity sighs.

"You know, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but…"

"What?"

"I wish I had a mom like yours. My mother doesn't make me pancakes. She doesn't make me anything. She's either drunk or she's never home. I can't remember eating dinner with her after my Dad died."

I bite my lip. I don't know what to say to that. We pull up to Charity's house, and her uncle comes charging out.

"Young lady, where have you been?"

I step out and tell him the story before Charity gets a chance.

"What have I told you about going to parties like that? You don't even like that Lucas boy, and you were at his house?"

"Everybody goes to Lucas' house," she sighs.

"Do I smell marijuana?"

"No," we both blurt at once.

Don't look at her. Don't look at her. Damn it, she looked at me.

Her uncle sighs. "In the house, young lady. Now."

Charity meekly rushes inside, leaving me to face down her kin.

"Thank you," he sighs, catching me off guard. "She should know better. Sometimes I feel like I need to watch her every minute, but I can't. She's got to grow up sometime. All I can do is make sure she gets there and try to instill some wisdom in her. It's plainly working," he grunts, in a wry tone. "Sounds like you really saved her bacon. Thank you, Diana."

"Yeah. Anytime. I have to go."

"See you around, I hope. I don't know what she's going to do when you're gone."

As he turns and heads back up to the house, I head back to the car, drop into the driver's seat and lean on the steering wheel to catch my breath. Every time I breathe it feels like I'm sucking hot coals into my lungs, and my eyes burn. I sit back and think of what I'm going to say when I get home. I need some air.

I park on Main Street and get out, and walk. It's completely dead on Sunday. The town has Blue Laws, meaning nothing can be open except the pharmacy and gas station, so all the stores are dark. A hot breeze blows, and I feel like I'm walking through some desolated town in a cheesy post-apocalyptic movie. I certainly feel as bereft. I walk down the street to the bookstore, stop in my tracks, and blink a few times.

Part of me
expected
to see Apollo sitting on the bench out front, staring into the store. I should go, really. I should turn around and leave, not antagonize my mother anymore. If I talk to him she'll hear about it. Instead, I walk over and sit down next to him, staring straight ahead as he is. He's drinking something from a big bottle in a paper back. He burps, and I smell the acid sting of alcohol on his breath.