Read Online Random Acts of Love (Random #5) by Julia Kent - Free Book Online
Authors: Julia Kent
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I’ve heard about Mom’s c-section and my heart surgeries as a tiny baby make me bite my tongue and not make fun of what Trevor calls the “Joe-o-Rama” of my parents’ hallway. It was like a photographer vomited nothing but me everywhere.
A new picture made me halt, though. It was from our big concert last December, the one where the snake tried to eat Mavis the chicken. I’m on stage with Darla, arm around her waist. Trevor’s on top of the snake, prying open its jaws, and Liam and Sam are off to the side. The photo is one of those in-motion moments caught perfectly in time. I’d never seen this photo.
It was amazing.
“Where did you get this?” I asked Dad, who stopped and turned, following my eyes.
He raised an eyebrow. “Garrett McCarthy. He said he went to your performance and hunted down a professional photographer there. Had a bunch of these made up. Sent one to all the parents.” Dad was tall and dark, like me, but he was massive. A tight end gone soft. His thick eyebrows turned down and deep brown eyes met mine. Man, he looked tired. Grey sprinkled in his eyebrows and hair. Never saw that before.
“Nice.”
“He sent one to Sam’s parents, too.”
We stood in silence, eyes locked. Dad and Mom were there with me when we found Sam after his dad beat the shit out of him.
“Why?” Garrett knew about Sam’s past.
“Said his mom was struggling. His Dad’s in a long-term rehab facility.” Dad’s voice dropped. “He’s never getting out. The alcohol destroyed him. Swiss cheese brain, from what I heard. Garrett thought she’d appreciate it.” Dad sighed. “I know Sam has every right to cut off his parents, and I know why, but I can’t imagine.” He reached down and squeezed my shoulder, voice choking. “I can’t imagine.”
“Can’t imagine what?” chirped Mom from behind us.
“Having your own kid cut off contact.”
“Joey!” she screeched. “Are you thinking about doing that? Why? Because I talked about my vagina with you?”
Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Why in the hell would you do that, dear? No boy needs to hear his mom talking about her private parts.”
I was suddenly thirsty and slipped out from between them, racing down the stairs to the kitchen.
A wall of shining steel greeted me. Huh. Last time I was here, the appliances were all white. Mom must have remodeled. Every room in the house had been remodeled since I was in middle school. Maybe she had a secret schedule hidden somewhere, a rotation of renovation that required her to completely overhaul the entire house every decade. We had contractors who practically lived here. At once point, I started calling the plumber “Dad” because they looked so much alike.
And the plumber was here more.
I opened the refrigerator door. It made a pneumatic click, then a wheeze, like opening the airlock hatch on a space ship. The door had a seltzer water dispenser and I half expected a hand job option there, too. That would be a cool feature, but I had to settle for grabbing a half gallon of raw milk and a bowl of organic, wild blueberries to stave off hunger.
“Those are for my smoothie, Joey!” Mom shrieked behind me as I shoved a handful in and downed it with milk. “And use a glass, for god’s sake. Who knows where your mouth has been, and I don’t want to have to tell the doctor I got herpes from my own child.”
I choked, spraying tiny blue balls and milk in an impressive fan of horror.
She shook her head and sighed, now calm. “And Cecilia just came this morning. You always pick the day before her day off to make a mess. It’s like you’re torturing me on purpose.”
Milk dribbled down the front of my chin and shirt like I was the lead in one of my roommates’ favorite porn videos. She wasn’t even looking at me any more, her attention averted, fingers tapping the screen of her smartphone.
If I were at any friend’s house, in my own apartment, or at Trevor and Darla’s place, I’d clean up the
A new picture made me halt, though. It was from our big concert last December, the one where the snake tried to eat Mavis the chicken. I’m on stage with Darla, arm around her waist. Trevor’s on top of the snake, prying open its jaws, and Liam and Sam are off to the side. The photo is one of those in-motion moments caught perfectly in time. I’d never seen this photo.
It was amazing.
“Where did you get this?” I asked Dad, who stopped and turned, following my eyes.
He raised an eyebrow. “Garrett McCarthy. He said he went to your performance and hunted down a professional photographer there. Had a bunch of these made up. Sent one to all the parents.” Dad was tall and dark, like me, but he was massive. A tight end gone soft. His thick eyebrows turned down and deep brown eyes met mine. Man, he looked tired. Grey sprinkled in his eyebrows and hair. Never saw that before.
“Nice.”
“He sent one to Sam’s parents, too.”
We stood in silence, eyes locked. Dad and Mom were there with me when we found Sam after his dad beat the shit out of him.
“Why?” Garrett knew about Sam’s past.
“Said his mom was struggling. His Dad’s in a long-term rehab facility.” Dad’s voice dropped. “He’s never getting out. The alcohol destroyed him. Swiss cheese brain, from what I heard. Garrett thought she’d appreciate it.” Dad sighed. “I know Sam has every right to cut off his parents, and I know why, but I can’t imagine.” He reached down and squeezed my shoulder, voice choking. “I can’t imagine.”
“Can’t imagine what?” chirped Mom from behind us.
“Having your own kid cut off contact.”
“Joey!” she screeched. “Are you thinking about doing that? Why? Because I talked about my vagina with you?”
Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Why in the hell would you do that, dear? No boy needs to hear his mom talking about her private parts.”
I was suddenly thirsty and slipped out from between them, racing down the stairs to the kitchen.
A wall of shining steel greeted me. Huh. Last time I was here, the appliances were all white. Mom must have remodeled. Every room in the house had been remodeled since I was in middle school. Maybe she had a secret schedule hidden somewhere, a rotation of renovation that required her to completely overhaul the entire house every decade. We had contractors who practically lived here. At once point, I started calling the plumber “Dad” because they looked so much alike.
And the plumber was here more.
I opened the refrigerator door. It made a pneumatic click, then a wheeze, like opening the airlock hatch on a space ship. The door had a seltzer water dispenser and I half expected a hand job option there, too. That would be a cool feature, but I had to settle for grabbing a half gallon of raw milk and a bowl of organic, wild blueberries to stave off hunger.
“Those are for my smoothie, Joey!” Mom shrieked behind me as I shoved a handful in and downed it with milk. “And use a glass, for god’s sake. Who knows where your mouth has been, and I don’t want to have to tell the doctor I got herpes from my own child.”
I choked, spraying tiny blue balls and milk in an impressive fan of horror.
She shook her head and sighed, now calm. “And Cecilia just came this morning. You always pick the day before her day off to make a mess. It’s like you’re torturing me on purpose.”
Milk dribbled down the front of my chin and shirt like I was the lead in one of my roommates’ favorite porn videos. She wasn’t even looking at me any more, her attention averted, fingers tapping the screen of her smartphone.
If I were at any friend’s house, in my own apartment, or at Trevor and Darla’s place, I’d clean up the
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