Another crappy Sunday. Third one in a row to be exact. An hour into my shift I was told to go home—by Joe. He’s back from vacation along with the unease his presence brings. It was busy but he still sent me away, making me question what I did to earn his sudden spite. The uncertainty turns to irritation and I drive away fuming.
Halfway home, my phone rings but this time I answer it without even checking the screen.
“Where have you been?” My mom’s screech fills me with immediate regret. Why did I choose today of all days to pick up?
“What are you talking about?”
“You think because you move out you don’t have any responsibilities here anymore?”
Yes. “And what responsibilities are those?”
“Rent!”
I bark out a disbelieving laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I pay rent where I live, which is at my apartment, away from you.”
“I raised you, you ungrateful bitch!”
“Yeah, thanks for that, but I don’t owe you anything. I let you keep the child support check even though you technically aren’t supporting me anymore. That’s more than enough.”
“All you’ve ever done is take, take, take. Take my money, take all the food, take up space in every place I’ve ever scored us, you name it. Now that you’re out from under my roof you think you’re off the hook repaying me? I’ve been paying your way for years! It’s time you return the favor.”
Favor? Is she serious? I can’t believe the crap she’s spewing. I was wondering what kind of bullshit she’d pull next but I had no idea she was busy spinning out of control trying to come up with what she could hold over my head. What she could use against me. And the best she could think of was my childhood? It shouldn’t shock me that she’s kept tabs over the years but I never thought she’d throw it in my face as an actual debt. She’s reaching, even for her. She probably knows it, too, but it’s the only leg she’s got to stand on so she’s going with it.
I’m not though.
“You’re un-fucking-believable, you know that?”
“Watch your mouth! You’re still my daughter.”
Don’t remind me.
“That’s right,” I sigh. “I am your daughter. A child you didn’t have to have, I know. You should’ve aborted me like you’ve told me a thousand times. For whatever reason you didn’t though and here I am. Tell me how much the abortion would’ve been and I’ll pay you that amount. Will that make things right between us?” Since not going through with it is the biggest regret of her life apparently, maybe the price tag for my birth will help her come to terms with her choice once and for all. “After that, I won’t owe you anything, anymore.”
I hate the tears that form so I blink them away, not ready to give in yet.
“Well, it’ll help but it won’t be enough. I’ve been carrying you for eighteen years. That’s a hell of a lot more than you’re offering. I gave you life after all.”
A sob rips through me before I can stop it. “Then come and take it back!”
Hanging up, I toss my phone in the cupholder, then slam my hand down on the steering wheel. I let her get to me. I let her win.
Fuck.
She got me to lose control when I’ve worked tirelessly not to. It’s a lonely place living without power and my mother thrives from having company. She welcomes the once composed into pure hysteria with open arms. She’s been pushing my entire life to get me into her manic world. I’ve always been able to stay calm and wait out the worst of it, knowing there were no alternatives. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, unlike my sister. I’d be just as unwanted with my father as I was with Rianne, and at least I already knew that evil. Better the devil you know than the one you don’t, right?
I make my way into my apartment on auto pilot without any recollection of even getting here. Trying to rein in my emotions is like separating each one into a different jar. It must be done carefully, taking complete concentration.
With a deep inhale, I glance around the small space. I finally have something that puts me out of her reach, making this studio the most sacred thing in my life.
The crap at Hot Spots and now the drama next door has been chipping away at my façade for weeks without me even realizing it. She caught me in a moment of weakness and I won’t let it happen again. I can’t.
I’ll rebuild what’s been damaged and make myself stronger. I can be strong. I will be strong. I am strong.
* * *
Groggy after being woken from a nap, I drag myself out of bed to answer my door. I’m not even surprised when I find Coty on the other side. I figured he’d come looking for an explanation for yesterday’s disappearing act. I didn’t expect him to show up bearing gifts though. He holds up plates full of the best food known to man—taco truck beef tacos. It’s too good of an offering to send him away and judging by his smug grin he knows it.
“Are you hungry?” Well, now I am. “I thought I’d bring dinner to you since you won’t let me take you out.”
I give him a once-over and, of course, he looks good. A white tank that shows his sexy tattoos with relaxed athletic shorts. He has sneakers on though foregoing his preferred barefoot look.
I open the door wider as an answer.
“You just wake up or something?” He points at my hair when I scowl, explaining, “Bed head.”
Indignantly, I continue past him to check myself in the bathroom. Seeing he’s right, I unwrap my tight bun, letting my hair fall loosely around me. It’s one of the rare occasions it’s actually holding a curl and I ignore the frizzy pieces tickling my face to rejoin him.
“If you think this is bad, you should see my sex hair.”
He just stares at me as I accept one of the plates. I thought it was a good joke. Not my best, but I’m working at half speed still. I’ll try again when I’m fully awake.
He clears his throat to suggest eating outside to which I agree instantly since the only other place to sit is my bed and that’s just not happening.
I don’t bother showing him around since it’s literally one room, so we head out on the balcony to dig through our food.
“Did you get any limes?” Pretty sure the first rule in eating taco truck fare is one must have an abundance of limes. It’s downright sacrilegious otherwise.
Thankfully, Coty pulls out a takeout container with six lime wedges.
I look up at him blankly.
“What?”
“Where are yours?”
He laughs. “We can’t share these?”
At my incredulous look he hands them over, wisely choosing to go without.
Coty breaks the comfortable silence after a while.
“How are you? I thought you’d still be working.”
I wince, ignoring his question. “So did I. I’m not sure what’s going on.”
“Hey, I’m sorry about last night if I made you uncomfortable. You said you just want to be friendly, then I pressed the issue when I shouldn’t have. We like having you as a neighbor and I’m happy to be friends with you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to avoid us.” He smiles sheepishly. “Or me specifically.”
I shrug a bare shoulder. “That’s reasonable. I like living here, too.” More than you know. “I just don’t want there to be any weirdness.”
“Zero weirdness,” he agrees.
“You won’t do your caveman routine?”
He puffs out a breath. “I’ll try my best, neighbor girl.” He winks, and I act like it wasn’t forced.
I thank him for dinner, then shift to my back, soaking up the last rays the sun is offering up for the day.
After a few minutes, I crack an eye to find Coty biting his lip, looking at the sliver of stomach peeking out between my white cut-off shorts and off-the-shoulder striped shirt. I pull my shirt down, watching as his eyes cut to mine. Busted.
He stretches out next to me on his side with his head propped up.
I close my eyes again.
“Tell me something.”
I hear him roll to his back. “Like what?”
“Anything you want, friend.”
He chuckles, but doesn’t indulge me right away.
At his prolonged silence, I open my eyes. His head is turned my way while he gazes over at me. I couldn’t look away if I tried, so I greedily take my fill of his saccharine eyes.
As soon as he speaks, I’m mesmerized by his relaxed voice. The calm cadence of his words soothes me in a way I didn’t realize I was craving. I never want him to stop. I tell him so and he obliges.
He tells me about his childhood. His school and the picture-perfect student he was even while riding dirt bikes like a hellion every weekend. He tells me about his job. He loves it but wants more. Something to give him more purpose.
He’s just getting to romantic relationships when Beckett yells from the parking lot.
We both sit up to find Beckett, Marc, and some girl standing next to the motorcycles. The guys are wearing their jackets with jeans but the girl is wearing tiny shorts and a tight tank top. Judging by the cheesy smile Beckett’s wearing, he’s more than happy with her attire. She’s putting on Beckett’s spare helmet and it reminds me of the time I wore it.
I tilt my face down on my knees watching them.
“You in or what?”
Coty shakes his head, loosely wrapping his arms around his folded legs. “Not tonight.”
My heart warms. He’s ditching his friends. For me?
They look to me.
“Hey, neighbor girl.”
“Hello again.” To Coty I say, “You should go. I don’t want you to miss out on your special Sunday night ride.”
“Will you go, too?”
I shake my head. If we’re going to be friends, I can’t ride with him. It’s too enticing. He’s too enticing. The physical contact, however ordinary they try to make it seem, clouds my judgement.
Without taking his eyes from mine, Coty calls out, “Have fun without me, boys.”
They, including Coty, do their usual “ride it” chant and then we listen as the bikes take off before I move to stand.
Coty looks up, curious.
“It’s uncomfortable out here.”
“So uncomfortable.” He chuckles. “I didn’t want to say anything.”
I grab his hands to help him stand but once he’s up, he doesn’t let go immediately. When I try to pull away, he unfairly uses his superior strength, gently bringing me forward again.
“Are you okay? You’re always beautiful but today you look…tired.”
Just what every woman wants to hear. “You woke me from a nap.”
He runs his hands up my wrists, then to my elbows, warming my skin.
“That’s not what I meant,” he says softly.
I quirk an eyebrow. The truth is I am tired. I’m tired of living this life that wasn’t meant to be. I can’t escape my mother’s abuse even being out from under her thumb. I’m tired of fighting to control the constant emotions working their way out. I’m tired of having to watch my every move. The rigged game that is my life has left me worn out and reeling. I’m tired of having to justify a life that I haven’t even been allowed to fully live yet.
That’s what goes through my mind when I reach up and kiss Coty on the cheek. Inhaling sharply, he presses his cheek closer.
“I could use a friend.”
“You got one.” His eyes flick between mine. “Let’s go to my place. It’s empty and has lots of seating. And a TV.”
“Hey.” I smack his arm.
“I mean it does though. You can pick a movie and I’ll make popcorn.”
Well, when he puts it like that.
I choose a comedy that I haven’t seen before but Coty swears will be my new favorite. Doubtful, considering I fall asleep halfway through.
I wake up to Coty holding me under my knees and shoulders. Too tired to argue, I snuggle in closer as he takes me back to my apartment, mindful not to bang my head against any doorways. Marc holds their door for us to pass through, then Beckett’s at mine, unlocking it with my keys I brought over. He pushes it open for us then disappears from sight.
Coty lays me down gently, tucking me into my bed.
“Goodnight, Angela.”
He presses a sweet kiss to my hair, but I’m fast asleep before I can even thank him.
What feels like only a short time later there’s knocking. Or tapping. No, definitely knocking. Incessant knocking. Knocking I wish would go away. Instead it grows louder. More demanding.
I peel my eyes open to realize the sound is coming from my door.
Thinking it’s Coty again, I throw it open only to find the space empty.
Maybe it was a dream?
Footsteps on the stairs catch my less-than-alert attention and I croak out, “Hello?”
The footsteps halt.
I hesitate, listening, but nothing happens. With my heartbeat in my ears, nearly blocking out all other sound, I shut my door, locking the deadbolt. If it was Coty, he would’ve said something, anything, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have been going down the stairs at—I glance at the clock—one o’clock in the morning. None of the guys next door would’ve.
I grab my phone, twisting it between my hands. Who could I even call? I don’t want to wake Drew. By the time he’d drive over here, the person could be gone—hopefully. And I don’t have the neighbors’ numbers. Shit. I’m seriously rethinking not having a social media account right now. Don’t those have alerts like texts do?
Over at the window, I look outside, hoping to catch whoever it was coming out of the stairwell. When nobody emerges, I check around the parking lot. Living in apartments though, there’s no telling which cars belong and which ones don’t. Just as I’m about to look away I see taillights pulling out of the entrance. I can’t tell the make and model from here but one thing’s for sure, it’s a truck.
