Reading His Mind (7 page)

He nodded.

“You see, the thing is, I am in this elevator with you and you look so….” I couldn’t think of a word. “And you smell so….” Again, nothing. “All I can think of is my dad saying I’m ungrateful after all they did for me.” Either the wine or the Jack inspired the true-confessions part of me to come springing forth. “I’m wondering what exactly it is they did for me.” No longer censuring my words or thoughts, everything I thought tumbled out in a rush. “I mean, I should be having hot elevator sex right now, but once again, my parents have found a way to ruin every single thing.”

“Hot elevator sex?” His voice cracked a little.

“Yeah, you know, backed against the wall, skirt over my head. Elevator sex.” Images of Jace and I together, living out my words, flashed in my mind as the elevator crawled downward. Had I not been so distraught over my parents, the King of Clubs security people—who undoubtedly saw many an amateur porn movie on the elevator monitors—would have been able to add another to their naughty files.

“I will take you home, but I reserve the right to revisit the topic of hot elevator sex later on.”

Laughing, I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Deal.” His cologne tickled my olfactory nerves.
What the hell. Stop being ridiculous
. My mental pep talk continued in my head.
You are a grown woman. Who cares about them? He smells good. And he wants you there. Don’t let them ruin anything else in your life
. This dinner would be as hard for Jace as it promised to be for me, and I’d given him my word. Besides that, I really did want to see Mel’s face when he strolled in with me.
And he smells so good
. “You know what? Let’s go to dinner.”

Grinning, he took my hand and kissed it. “I like that idea.” He pushed the button to send the elevator up. “But we are still going to be talking about hot elevator sex later.”

I held up the peace sign. “Scout’s honor.”

He leaned over, sealing the deal with a kiss. “I knew you way back when. So, how come I have never heard about your mom and dad?”

I shrugged. “They aren’t exactly the kind of parents a girl can be proud of. They forgot about us, so we forgot about them.” Rather we’d tried.

He raised his brows in question.

“We moved around a lot when I was a kid. My first day of school was when I went to live with Grandma.”

“Really?”

I nodded against his chest. “I was home schooled, if you can call it that. A lady from the carnival my parents worked for at the time taught me how to read when I was eight. It took forever, but then I just read anything I could get my hands on.” The thoughts of all I’d missed bothered me the most. “Almost every town has a library, so while Susan and Richard partied, after I finished working, I hauled myself down to the library for learning, reading, and wishing. My first home without wheels was with Gran.”

“So, you lived in a trailer. A lot of people do.”

I wanted to believe his words were supportive, to make me feel better, not a defense on my parents’ behalves. Plus, he’d lived the sheltered life of a Laugherty. I doubted he could imagine even a tenth of what my life had been like.

“No. Not a trailer. An RV. A house on wheels but with a motor moving me from town to town where I never had time to make a friend or have a pet or be a normal girl.” Dizziness seeped in, and I swayed. He slid an arm around my waist. I continued my tale of woe. “Once they discovered Mel was normal, they sent her to Gran right away, but they kept me, so I didn’t even have her for a long time.” Boy. Did I sound pathetic or what? “Anyway, it wouldn’t have been all bad except for the loneliness. Since Susan and Richard were always busy trying to score weed, I spent most of my time alone. Then, he got this evangelist thing and…it’s all a scam. His is, anyway. He pretended to heal my uncle Ron, my aunt Lila, and me so people would believe he was some prophet of God with hands blessed by the angels, and they bought it. I mean, those people whipped out cash like he was selling youth, you know? I was ashamed to be a part of it. One day, I just stopped being helpful. I told them I couldn’t do it anymore. I told them I guessed I’d grown out of it. Then they sent me to live with Gran, too.”

The
Reader’s Digest
condensed version of my life still sounded bad, and he’d scored a front-row seat to the fallout.

By the time we approached the long, over-flowered banquet table, everyone, including my parents, had already been introduced and seated. Jace’s mother sat next to Max on one side while my mother perched next to Mel on the other. One empty seat remained, reserved for Jace. I turned to leave, my strength having vanished. He propelled me back to his side, and we waited for the initial surprise to pass.

“See?” my mother hissed to Melody. “I told you she was here.”

“Well, Mother”—the venom in my tone couldn’t have been stronger without my becoming a snake—“pardon her if she didn’t quite believe you. We might have a trust issue or two where you’re concerned.”

“Oh, for the love of mustard,” Melody groaned, her voice a whisper. I shot Jace a knowing look. “My wedding dinner is going to be a disaster.”

I shrugged. My grandmother stood, greeting me as though she didn’t think me a slight against God. She pulled me in for a tight hug, pinning my arms at my sides. When she stepped away, she reached up to kiss my cheek. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, Grandma.”

She motioned for a waiter, demanding he bring another chair. “You sit by me.” She smiled, and nostalgia washed over me. “I’ve missed you so much.”

I considered her with new eyes before I spoke. “I missed you, too.”

“Are you well?”

“Most days.” I scrutinized her, investigating the similarities and the changes in the woman I’d once thought I’d known, knew I hated, and the little old lady hugging me. Grandma hadn’t changed much, still looked way younger than her seventy-plus years. Her middle had thickened, but her hair, as always, seemed perfectly styled. She wore a lavender floor-length dress designed by some magical angel of fashion just for her. “You look like home to me.”
Note to self: wine and whiskey make you mushy
.

She patted my forearm. “I hoped you would come back to me sooner and forgive me for what I said to you.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Oh, look at me, blubbering like a big, fat old baby. Sit. This is a joyous day. My one girl is getting married, and my other is right where she belongs—with me.” Was that a pointed look she shot at my parents?

My mom frowned, and I felt a surge of
love
for my grandma. My father nodded in Jace’s direction. He sat, with raised eyebrows, waiting for an introduction that would be a very long time coming. As a matter of fact, if left up to me, it wouldn’t happen at all.

After twenty seconds, his face bunched, his eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned. “Are you going to introduce us?”

“Nope.” Petulance, at twenty-six, seemed outlandish even to me, but for the love of God, I couldn’t stop it.

Melody, ever the suck-up, smiled at dear old Daddy, adoration written in her every feature. “Dad, this is Max’s brother, Jace. Jace, this is our dad, Richard Brenner.”

My father shook his hand with exaggerated vigor. “This beautiful creature is my lovely wife, Susan. We are Melody and Lyric’s parents.” A fact they’d ignored to this point. I felt like a pony at the fair, hauled out for show, so my parents could demonstrate what wonderful parenting skills they possessed. I was ten years old all over again.

Jace nodded to my mother, while I sat stone still, hoping the earth would swallow my parents and deposit them in China. Alas, no such luck. They chose instead to chitchat with, of all people, me. “So, Lyric, what brings you to Las Vegas?”

They knew I hadn’t been invited to the wedding and seemed to flaunt it in my face. It brought out the mean in me.

I narrowed my eyes, tilted my head at my mother. “Well, after my sideshow days were over, and you shoved me off on Grandma, I went out and got a real job. I’m working here.” Her underwhelming interest in my life compelled me to answer. I just didn’t feel obligated to be nice about it.

Turning her attention to the more interesting part of my evening, she said, “I can see why Lyric snatched you up. You’re a handsome little charmer, aren’t you?” She flashed her pearly smile his way.

“I didn’t think you had any of the wandering spirit in you.” My father beamed his over-bleached teeth in my direction, trying to glorify what passed for my childhood. He, too, turned to Jace. “As soon as our beautiful babies were born, we wanted their lives to be an adventure. We wanted to show them the country, and that’s just what we did. We bought an RV and started traveling before they were even a month old. Poor Melody was so sickly, we had to send her to Susan’s mother, but Lyric took right to it.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Melody hadn’t been sick a day in her life. Her only affliction had been normalcy. “That’s what we’re calling my childhood, an adventure?”

Heavy drinking became a requirement for survival. I waved over a waiter. Milliseconds later, I had the straw of yet another Jack and Coke in my mouth. I held onto the waiter’s sleeve while I removed the straw and chugged the drink, then sent him off in search of another.

My father ignored me, continuing his fairy tale undaunted. He made carnival life sound romantic—which didn’t provide an accurate depiction. “She loved traveling, seeing new things. Why, I believe, without all that life experience she would never have gotten at school, she wouldn’t be where she is today.”

“It was a delightful life.” My mother picked her moment to chime in. “But Lyric never appreciated it. She has always been a tad spoiled.”

Spoiled?
“More like ruined,” I muttered. Jace smothered a laugh with his napkin.

Her head hung lower as though, for once in her life, she elected to take responsibility for her actions. “I suppose that’s my fault. I wanted her to have everything she ever wanted. I even home schooled her.”
Oh. My God
. “With all the traveling, she would’ve been so far behind. I had no choice.” She had no more home schooled me than I had become the queen of America. The patting of her own back continued, while I watched in helpless amazement. “In the beginning, I thought she might be a little”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“slow.”

“It was probably all the pot I was secondhand inhaling.” This time my grandmother chuckled.

“No matter how hard I tried, she wouldn’t take to her lessons.” My father joined in the Lyric bashing and my mother clucked her tongue in agreement. “But then, Susan put all of her time in with Lyric, and our baby girl started whizzing right through. And here she is, a stunning, successful woman.”

I could have been living in cardboard box under an overpass for all they knew. I almost expected them to stand up and lead an ovation on my behalf of my successes, which they took credit for.

Disbelief clouded my vision. I clutched my butter knife, wishing for a Ginsu to cut out their lying tongues. Prying my fingers off the utensil, Jace gloved them with his. Grandma seized the knife, mixing it in with her silverware. It took a quick little squeeze from him before I realized my mouth gaped. I snapped it shut.

My parents hadn’t quite finished torturing me, though, and my mother shot me an anything-but-friendly smile. “It is good to see you have put on a bit of weight since the last time we saw you.”

“I was eleven the last time you saw me.” My voice lost its conviction. I sounded weak and hated myself for it.

“Yes, well, you do have to be careful, dear.” The evil written all over her face spoke volumes of the person she’d become. “You’re starting to get a little chunky around the middle. It’s not healthy. You can’t let yourself go if you want to stay as beautiful as your sister.”

Jace opened his mouth to speak. This time, I squeezed his hand.

“Lyric,” my mother continued, her voice too loud for the table’s size, “quit glowering, or you’ll get wrinkles.” She paused for a second, for effect more than anything. “Well, more wrinkles.”

“I am not glowering, Susan. I’m thinking.”
Thinking of a way to make you disappear
.

My father ignored me, instead continuing to romanticize my upbringing. “Yeah. We traveled all over the country with our girl.” He hauled his pants up a notch under the table.
You can take the clown from the rodeo
….

Their story wasn’t fiction in its entirety. One percent of truth mixed in with their fantasy. We’d traveled the country, but in a dingy, outdated RV we’d shared with four other pot-smoking carnies. The adventure had been in keeping my brain cells intact through the marijuana haze.

My parents spun grand yarns of carnival life. They left out the part where my mother forced me to stand outside their “work” tent, eavesdropping on patrons’ conversations, then troll inside to feed my father details he could use to part innocent fools from their money. They didn’t mention the fact that they locked me in the trailer during the day until I aged enough to climb out the window, while they drank or smoked more pot until time for work. I sat in wonder that these self-proclaimed prophets of God were one tiny lie from their pants spontaneously combusting.

“Are you okay?” Jace whispered.

“I’m fine.” I tried for a smile, knowing I looked constipated but beyond summoning the ability to care.

“Uncle Joe is here with us.” My father’s headline left him wide open.

Uncle Joe, my father’s younger, less bright brother, was just another prop in the religious farce. Before I could help myself, I blurted, “Is he playing the cripple or the blind guy?”

“Lyric!” My mother’s face flamed, her eyes glittering with anger. “You have always been such a mean-spirited child!”

Enough
. “Listen, Susan and Richard, as much fun as this is, you wear me out.” I blew out a long breath. “Maybe we should all concentrate on Melody and Max. This is their celebration.” I pushed to my feet and grabbed a glass of wine from Jace’s brother, Dylan, as he brought it to his lips. “I would like to propose a toast to the happy couple.”