hotel that he actually offered to pay for, but I refused, figuring the last thing I needed was to owe someone money. He’d warned that he was sending a cab.
He’d actually had the nerve to say to me, “I know you’re smarter than this, honey, so I’m going to give you forty minutes to get over yourself, and when a cab pulls up in front of your house, you’re going to get your sweet ass in it.”
What in the hell?
So when the cab pulled up and honked for a straight minute, I’d ignored it, and it had eventually driven away.
Yeah, it was kind of nice of him to offer to pay for a hotel and to send a cab, nice in a really weird and overbearing kind of way. But it was something, his domineering niceness, that I couldn’t allow myself to give a lot of thought.
I had a restless night on the couch and spent a good part of the morning going through Mom’s mess of a bedroom—and finding absolutely nothing of any use, not even a crack pipe. However, the closet did hold a few items I wished I hadn’t seen.
One was a framed photo of me when I was around eight or nine years old. The other was a trophy—about two feet tall, still shimmery and glittery. They were mementos of a past I could no longer claim.
After placing those items in the back of the closet, covering them up with old jeans, I got ready to head to the bar. I didn’t really care about how I dressed, but I took my time with the makeup, carefully blending it until the scar sloping down my cheek was less red, more pink, and almost invisible if someone was far enough away. I could leave the house wearing ratty sweats and a T-shirt full of holes, but I never left home without having the thick makeup smacked across my face. Once I was done, I called up Clyde, knowing there was only one other place where there could be any info like bank accounts or evidence of where she could’ve run off to.
He showed a little after noon, and I’d been waiting for him on the stoop. I hopped into his truck, a Ford that was a lot older than Jax’s, and buckled myself in before he could get his massive size out of the vehicle.
“Baby girl—”
“Like I said on the phone, I need to go to the bar. I wouldn’t have called you if I had my car.”
“Jax is taking care of your car.”
I wrinkled my nose as I plopped my purse in my lap. “That’s reassuring,” I muttered, which was bitchy, because even though he was a wee bit bossy, he had been helpful.
Shifting his girth around in the seat, he twisted toward me. “Baby girl,” he began again. “Are you really staying in this place?”
I sighed as I slid my sunglasses on. They were nice. Total knockoffs, but I thought I looked good in them. “In the reputed crack house? Yes. I’m not getting a hotel room.
“Calla—”
“Jax already tried to take me to one. He even called a cab!” Even though I waved my hand around, I didn’t miss the way Clyde’s lips twitched. “Mom . . . she really screwed me over. Like bad. And I’m figuring that what she’s going through is pretty bad, too.”
Clyde pressed his lips together as he threw the truck into reverse. “It is bad.”
A breath shuddered through me. “Is it as bad as Jax told me?” There was a little part of me that was hoping that Clyde would tell me that Jax tended to exaggerate.
No such luck.
Even though I didn’t elaborate, he grunted out an affirmative. “I don’t know exactly what he said, but I’m imagining that he didn’t tell you all of it.”
I closed my eyes, just listening to the tires eat away at the road. God, what was I doing? Maybe I should’ve just gone to the hotel and headed back to school, called up Teresa— No . I stopped myself there. She and Jase had a lot of plans this summer. Traveling. Beaches. Sun and sand. I wasn’t going to mess that up by dumping my problems on her—on them. Plus there was something completely out of control about crashing on friends’ couches that I couldn’t deal with.
Minutes passed before
He’d actually had the nerve to say to me, “I know you’re smarter than this, honey, so I’m going to give you forty minutes to get over yourself, and when a cab pulls up in front of your house, you’re going to get your sweet ass in it.”
What in the hell?
So when the cab pulled up and honked for a straight minute, I’d ignored it, and it had eventually driven away.
Yeah, it was kind of nice of him to offer to pay for a hotel and to send a cab, nice in a really weird and overbearing kind of way. But it was something, his domineering niceness, that I couldn’t allow myself to give a lot of thought.
I had a restless night on the couch and spent a good part of the morning going through Mom’s mess of a bedroom—and finding absolutely nothing of any use, not even a crack pipe. However, the closet did hold a few items I wished I hadn’t seen.
One was a framed photo of me when I was around eight or nine years old. The other was a trophy—about two feet tall, still shimmery and glittery. They were mementos of a past I could no longer claim.
After placing those items in the back of the closet, covering them up with old jeans, I got ready to head to the bar. I didn’t really care about how I dressed, but I took my time with the makeup, carefully blending it until the scar sloping down my cheek was less red, more pink, and almost invisible if someone was far enough away. I could leave the house wearing ratty sweats and a T-shirt full of holes, but I never left home without having the thick makeup smacked across my face. Once I was done, I called up Clyde, knowing there was only one other place where there could be any info like bank accounts or evidence of where she could’ve run off to.
He showed a little after noon, and I’d been waiting for him on the stoop. I hopped into his truck, a Ford that was a lot older than Jax’s, and buckled myself in before he could get his massive size out of the vehicle.
“Baby girl—”
“Like I said on the phone, I need to go to the bar. I wouldn’t have called you if I had my car.”
“Jax is taking care of your car.”
I wrinkled my nose as I plopped my purse in my lap. “That’s reassuring,” I muttered, which was bitchy, because even though he was a wee bit bossy, he had been helpful.
Shifting his girth around in the seat, he twisted toward me. “Baby girl,” he began again. “Are you really staying in this place?”
I sighed as I slid my sunglasses on. They were nice. Total knockoffs, but I thought I looked good in them. “In the reputed crack house? Yes. I’m not getting a hotel room.
“Calla—”
“Jax already tried to take me to one. He even called a cab!” Even though I waved my hand around, I didn’t miss the way Clyde’s lips twitched. “Mom . . . she really screwed me over. Like bad. And I’m figuring that what she’s going through is pretty bad, too.”
Clyde pressed his lips together as he threw the truck into reverse. “It is bad.”
A breath shuddered through me. “Is it as bad as Jax told me?” There was a little part of me that was hoping that Clyde would tell me that Jax tended to exaggerate.
No such luck.
Even though I didn’t elaborate, he grunted out an affirmative. “I don’t know exactly what he said, but I’m imagining that he didn’t tell you all of it.”
I closed my eyes, just listening to the tires eat away at the road. God, what was I doing? Maybe I should’ve just gone to the hotel and headed back to school, called up Teresa— No . I stopped myself there. She and Jase had a lot of plans this summer. Traveling. Beaches. Sun and sand. I wasn’t going to mess that up by dumping my problems on her—on them. Plus there was something completely out of control about crashing on friends’ couches that I couldn’t deal with.
Minutes passed before
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