Read Online Live Fast Die Hot by Jenny Mollen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jenny Mollen
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in on the con, even if it was just jockeying to get the best table at Nobu. Watching her in action was like watching James Bond walk into a party, tango his way into a backroom safe, steal a top-secret device, down three glasses of champagne, and then slip into an escape submarine off a nearby dock.
Fifteen minutes later, my mom popped back out of the lobby carrying a pair of crutches and a plate of pineapple that she’d probably taken straight off someone’s table in the dining room. She offered the valet a piece that she expected him to eat out of her fingers (which he did), then got back in the cart and took off.
“All right, Choppy! We have crutches. They belong to Allen the Bartender, but he claims his ACL is pretty much healed, so you can borrow them for the week.”
Bartenders loved my mom. She could drink like a Scotsman and was always able to persuade the table next to her to do a shot out of her navel. As long as you kept her fed and didn’t pour tequila on her after midnight, she kept her clothes on and was a gift the whole family could enjoy.
When we got back to the condo I used Allen the Bartender’s crutches to hop inside. I guessed that Allen was six feet tall, because every time I leaned on the crutches, my feet left the ground and I was suspended in the air like a gymnast on the parallel bars. I found a chair and Jason handed me Sid. He was smiling and warm from lounging in the sun.
“Do we think he’s hungry again?” I said, searching for something I could offer him that Jason couldn’t.
“I don’t think so.”
“Maybe he wants to take a nap?”
“No, he just woke up.”
Sid started fussing and reaching for his toys on the floor. I placed him on the ground and propped up his back with a pillow.
“Choppy! Not that pillow, that’s Rocky’s.”
I looked over to see Rocky fuming in the corner. He chewed on the same small toy he’d had since birth: the Baby Shoe. Rocky was obsessed with it and never let it out of his sight. Over the years, my mom had had to dismantle it and re-stuff it with a look-alike toy several times. I thought of the way my mom had discarded anything in the house that wasn’t bolted down when I was a kid. This included my She-Ra: Princess of Power action figure, my Sweet Sea mermaid doll, and my cocker spaniel, Rusty.
Rocky and his baby shoe stayed back at the condo while the rest of us headed out to the beach. I tried getting the hang of my newly acquired crutches, but I kept tripping over my one good leg. Jason futzed with the crutches, attempting to lower them, but it was no use, they were too tall. I didn’t want to stand (or
hang,
really) in the way of his scuba plans, so I urged him to get out on a boat and take a few dives. John disappeared to the golf course, and before I knew it, it was just me, my mom, and Sid.
I lost myself in the sterling-silver rings trapped around the Moc’s overgrown toe knuckles, deformed from years of bar-hopping in python pumps. I watched as they repeatedly buried themselves in the sand, then reappeared like the crooked talons of a parrot, eternally perched on an invisible branch. I flashed to an image of her when she was young—so hopeful, so arrogant. I remembered the waves of flaxen hair that cascaded down her back, her ruffled string bikini, her acrylic French-manicured nails. I remembered how I would lie next to her on the beach for hours, longing for her to notice me, silently watching her skin bronze in the sun. When she wasn’t home, she was out on a date. I’d find myself in her still-warm room with no expectation that I’d see her before bed. I’d sneak into her closet and try on her low-cut dresses. I painted myself with her Christian Dior lipstick, I drowned myself in her Calvin Klein Obsession eau de toilette. I wanted all of her and yet she kept me at such a distance. I fought off sleep, I fought off her suitors, anything to spend one more moment in her presence.
As I returned to the present, it dawned on
Fifteen minutes later, my mom popped back out of the lobby carrying a pair of crutches and a plate of pineapple that she’d probably taken straight off someone’s table in the dining room. She offered the valet a piece that she expected him to eat out of her fingers (which he did), then got back in the cart and took off.
“All right, Choppy! We have crutches. They belong to Allen the Bartender, but he claims his ACL is pretty much healed, so you can borrow them for the week.”
Bartenders loved my mom. She could drink like a Scotsman and was always able to persuade the table next to her to do a shot out of her navel. As long as you kept her fed and didn’t pour tequila on her after midnight, she kept her clothes on and was a gift the whole family could enjoy.
When we got back to the condo I used Allen the Bartender’s crutches to hop inside. I guessed that Allen was six feet tall, because every time I leaned on the crutches, my feet left the ground and I was suspended in the air like a gymnast on the parallel bars. I found a chair and Jason handed me Sid. He was smiling and warm from lounging in the sun.
“Do we think he’s hungry again?” I said, searching for something I could offer him that Jason couldn’t.
“I don’t think so.”
“Maybe he wants to take a nap?”
“No, he just woke up.”
Sid started fussing and reaching for his toys on the floor. I placed him on the ground and propped up his back with a pillow.
“Choppy! Not that pillow, that’s Rocky’s.”
I looked over to see Rocky fuming in the corner. He chewed on the same small toy he’d had since birth: the Baby Shoe. Rocky was obsessed with it and never let it out of his sight. Over the years, my mom had had to dismantle it and re-stuff it with a look-alike toy several times. I thought of the way my mom had discarded anything in the house that wasn’t bolted down when I was a kid. This included my She-Ra: Princess of Power action figure, my Sweet Sea mermaid doll, and my cocker spaniel, Rusty.
Rocky and his baby shoe stayed back at the condo while the rest of us headed out to the beach. I tried getting the hang of my newly acquired crutches, but I kept tripping over my one good leg. Jason futzed with the crutches, attempting to lower them, but it was no use, they were too tall. I didn’t want to stand (or
hang,
really) in the way of his scuba plans, so I urged him to get out on a boat and take a few dives. John disappeared to the golf course, and before I knew it, it was just me, my mom, and Sid.
I lost myself in the sterling-silver rings trapped around the Moc’s overgrown toe knuckles, deformed from years of bar-hopping in python pumps. I watched as they repeatedly buried themselves in the sand, then reappeared like the crooked talons of a parrot, eternally perched on an invisible branch. I flashed to an image of her when she was young—so hopeful, so arrogant. I remembered the waves of flaxen hair that cascaded down her back, her ruffled string bikini, her acrylic French-manicured nails. I remembered how I would lie next to her on the beach for hours, longing for her to notice me, silently watching her skin bronze in the sun. When she wasn’t home, she was out on a date. I’d find myself in her still-warm room with no expectation that I’d see her before bed. I’d sneak into her closet and try on her low-cut dresses. I painted myself with her Christian Dior lipstick, I drowned myself in her Calvin Klein Obsession eau de toilette. I wanted all of her and yet she kept me at such a distance. I fought off sleep, I fought off her suitors, anything to spend one more moment in her presence.
As I returned to the present, it dawned on
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