mother screech as she banged on the doorframe.
Shit.
My mother.
Now. Of all the freaking times the woman could show up, she chose now .
With Jack just upstairs.
Shit.
"Mom?" I called through the door. "Er, Belinda? Now's not a good time. Can you come back later?"
"I'm not going to come back later, you stupid piece of shit. Open the motherfucking door now! You're my sister and you know I won't go away until you let me in, you stupid cunt!" she screamed.
Okay, so the language and the scream let me know that she had a man with her. A man that didn't know her age or that she had a daughter. Plus, since the language was so raw, this guy was a bad-ass, which was the only kind of man my mother respected. That is, if a woman like her could work up any respect at all, even for another of her species.
"What's going on?" I heard Jack whisper from the joint of the dog-legged bend in the staircase.
"Uhm, family issues," I muttered, trying and failing to keep the derision out of my voice. Not to mention, my embarrassment at him having a front row seat to the drama about to unfold before his eyes. I don't know if she sought it out or created it all on her own, but Belinda Emerson and the car wreck of her life were drama personified.
My mom banged on the door again, making even the boarded up window next to it rattle.
"Open the motherfucking door, Lacey or I swear…" I heard her bellow the unfinished threat.
I opened the door, and used my foot to brace against it, only allowing a hands-breath of space to show.
She was, as always, dressed inappropriately. This morning's choice was a bright red spandex number that spanned her bloated curves, showing way too much skin for Auburn, for morning wear, for any and all other reasons you could come up with. I would've called it a tunic. I think she meant to wear it as a dress.
Her makeup was smeared and her hair, which she always wore teased out to there and beyond, was more wild than usual.
And, as usual when around me, her face held a sneer.
"Well, there she is. Miss Queen of Everything," she greeted. Which, by all accounts, was one of the nicest greetings she'd given me in years.
"What do you want?" I asked, hoping to circumvent the family reunion she was trying to stage for whomever was also within hearing distance, i.e., her latest man.
"I need money, missy, and I need it right, the fuck, now," she yelled. "She was my mother and…er, our mother and I deserve at least half of what she left you!"
"Mom…" I started.
"I told you before! Don't you ever fucking call me 'Mom', you cunt," she hissed, leaning in and pointing a long red nail at my face, trying to whisper but failing. Even from a distance of three feet, I could smell her. The cheap booze, the lack of a personal hygiene that was still bleeding through the cloud of some kind of perfume applied with a heavy hand was what hit my nose.
I just wanted her to go. To go back to whatever hole she'd crawled out of and just leave me alone. Yet, I'd known when Ms. Russell said my mom had filed a motion against Grandma's will that she'd be creating trouble.
I just hadn't figured on face-to-face trouble with my new guy seeing her shit-storm in all its glory.
"Goddamn, Lynn," I heard a slurred deep voice yell from behind her. "I knew you were just some tired, old whore that likes to screw her way to the good life. You ain't no thirty. Shit, you're pro'lly closer to fifty. Fuck, babe. Give it up."
At the sound of the man's voice, Jack came completely down the stairs and wrenched the door out of my hand. Luckily, I moved my foot away just in time.
"Go away," he said firmly, in his deep, deep voice. "Go, the fuck, away now ."
This was a nightmare.
One that could send a girl to an institution.
Or a nunnery, even if you're not a religious sort.
Take your pick.
"Oh. My. God," my stupid, out of her too-good-to-take-her-meds, bi-polar mind, Mom uttered staring at Jack, stumbling back as she spoke. "It's fucking Jax Wynter. My
Shit.
My mother.
Now. Of all the freaking times the woman could show up, she chose now .
With Jack just upstairs.
Shit.
"Mom?" I called through the door. "Er, Belinda? Now's not a good time. Can you come back later?"
"I'm not going to come back later, you stupid piece of shit. Open the motherfucking door now! You're my sister and you know I won't go away until you let me in, you stupid cunt!" she screamed.
Okay, so the language and the scream let me know that she had a man with her. A man that didn't know her age or that she had a daughter. Plus, since the language was so raw, this guy was a bad-ass, which was the only kind of man my mother respected. That is, if a woman like her could work up any respect at all, even for another of her species.
"What's going on?" I heard Jack whisper from the joint of the dog-legged bend in the staircase.
"Uhm, family issues," I muttered, trying and failing to keep the derision out of my voice. Not to mention, my embarrassment at him having a front row seat to the drama about to unfold before his eyes. I don't know if she sought it out or created it all on her own, but Belinda Emerson and the car wreck of her life were drama personified.
My mom banged on the door again, making even the boarded up window next to it rattle.
"Open the motherfucking door, Lacey or I swear…" I heard her bellow the unfinished threat.
I opened the door, and used my foot to brace against it, only allowing a hands-breath of space to show.
She was, as always, dressed inappropriately. This morning's choice was a bright red spandex number that spanned her bloated curves, showing way too much skin for Auburn, for morning wear, for any and all other reasons you could come up with. I would've called it a tunic. I think she meant to wear it as a dress.
Her makeup was smeared and her hair, which she always wore teased out to there and beyond, was more wild than usual.
And, as usual when around me, her face held a sneer.
"Well, there she is. Miss Queen of Everything," she greeted. Which, by all accounts, was one of the nicest greetings she'd given me in years.
"What do you want?" I asked, hoping to circumvent the family reunion she was trying to stage for whomever was also within hearing distance, i.e., her latest man.
"I need money, missy, and I need it right, the fuck, now," she yelled. "She was my mother and…er, our mother and I deserve at least half of what she left you!"
"Mom…" I started.
"I told you before! Don't you ever fucking call me 'Mom', you cunt," she hissed, leaning in and pointing a long red nail at my face, trying to whisper but failing. Even from a distance of three feet, I could smell her. The cheap booze, the lack of a personal hygiene that was still bleeding through the cloud of some kind of perfume applied with a heavy hand was what hit my nose.
I just wanted her to go. To go back to whatever hole she'd crawled out of and just leave me alone. Yet, I'd known when Ms. Russell said my mom had filed a motion against Grandma's will that she'd be creating trouble.
I just hadn't figured on face-to-face trouble with my new guy seeing her shit-storm in all its glory.
"Goddamn, Lynn," I heard a slurred deep voice yell from behind her. "I knew you were just some tired, old whore that likes to screw her way to the good life. You ain't no thirty. Shit, you're pro'lly closer to fifty. Fuck, babe. Give it up."
At the sound of the man's voice, Jack came completely down the stairs and wrenched the door out of my hand. Luckily, I moved my foot away just in time.
"Go away," he said firmly, in his deep, deep voice. "Go, the fuck, away now ."
This was a nightmare.
One that could send a girl to an institution.
Or a nunnery, even if you're not a religious sort.
Take your pick.
"Oh. My. God," my stupid, out of her too-good-to-take-her-meds, bi-polar mind, Mom uttered staring at Jack, stumbling back as she spoke. "It's fucking Jax Wynter. My
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