Then he spoke.
“Any love I had for you, and newsflash,” he bit, “there was still love, Mom. You killed it. You. Bonus info, reaching out goes both ways. After you sold me and Tab to Dad then spread that fucked-up brand of love you have for Tab instead of telling us we lost a grandparent not long after she lost her fuckin’ fiancé, you didn’t reach out either. Now, if you survive this, and this shit is serious and the threat is very real so that not happening is a possibility, you’re still dead to me. Forever. No turning back. I’ll have kids, and you won’t know them, like you don’t know Playboy. I’ll make a woman mine . . . a woman, Mom, who is not a fucking thing like you, and you’ll never meet her. I have no idea who shoved that stick so far up your ass it tore through your heart, makin’ you unable to give love, and not worthy of anyone lovin’ you. My advice, not that you give a shit, pull that stick out. Not for me. I’m gone for you. But in the years you have left, you’ll need somebody. Not someone to use. Not someone to abuse. Someone who cares enough to make sure you eat your Jell-O at the old folks’ home. Let go of the hate, Mom, before it buries you. And get outta Colorado. If you got it in you to do one thing for me and Tabby, save us from you bein’ delivered to Chaos under a sheet.”
He disconnected.
Shoved the phone in his back pocket.
And looked to Hop.
“Let’s roll.”
Rebel
“So tell me about his member. He has a beautiful member, am I right? All the rest of him carries through to his crotch?” Essence asked.
It was after I sent Meryl what she needed.
After naptime.
After a late lunch delivered by Jag (one of the brothers, a recruit who’d helped hijack me, and yes, you guessed it, he was gorgeous—young, but hot).
We were hanging out in Essence’s kitchen, drinking fresh-brewed tea we’d poured over ice and shooting the shit, both of us standing, leaning full body on our forearms into the massive butcher block she used as an island.
My kitchen was a riot of color everywhere, à la Essence.
Essence’s kitchen was enormous, but nearly all white.
That was except for the butcherblock, the sky-blue paint on the walls behind her glass-fronted cabinets, little button knobs on her cabinets and drawers that were all different colors and styles, and a cornucopia of bright, mismatched, square tiles that covered the floor in front of the work area, the rest of it was wood.
“One could say God likes him,” I answered on a smile.
“Far out!” Essence shouted.
One of her cats, a poofy ginger one with a smushed face called Groucho, even though she was a girl (Essence was into gender-neutral naming) jumped up, sat, swished her tail on the block and stared at me.
We both ignored her. Cats anywhere—island, counters, enjoying the show when you went to the bathroom—was the way it was anywhere near Essence.
“He’s great, Essence,” I told her.
“I was getting that impression.”
“I really like him.”
“Not much not to like,” she said, lifting her glass to take a sip.
I shook my head. “He’s more than handsome, honey.”
“I hope so. Though he’s really, really handsome, and I wouldn’t normally say this, but he’s so handsome, back when I was in my prime and I could land a cutie like that boy, it’d probably take me a whole year to get over him if he was a jackass.”
I grinned.
“Well, he’s not a jackass . . . at all,” I said as my phone binged with a text.
I looked down.
It was from Rush.
I opened it.
Not gonna make lunch. Pick you up. 5:30.
I wasn’t surprised he wasn’t going to make lunch, considering it was coming on two thirty.
Still, it was sweet he touched base.
And it was cool having my first-ever text from him.
Cool. Hope you’re having a good day. See you later, honey. I texted back.
“Him?” Essence asked.
I lifted my head to look at her. “Yeah.”
“I knew because your aura turned all red and green and lots of pink.”
I totally had to download an aura chart.
“With some white,” she said softly in a way I knew that was more significant than the others.
“What’s white?”
“Balance.”
For some reason, that took the breath out of me.
“I like this for you, my Rebel,” she told me.
“I like it too,” I whispered.
“And you know, if he grows up to look like his father, you got years of goodness ahead of you.”
I grinned again. “I know. I mean, seriously. Talk about a DILF.”
She grinned back but noted, “Not to be a wet blanket, but this means, Rush becomes your old man, all the girls’ll think he’s a DILF.”
I did not care even a little bit.
If Rush became my old man, he’d be mine.
We both turned from staring giddily in each other’s eyes when Roscoe strolled in.
He was followed by a cat.
He stopped.
The cat stopped.
“Fuck, you’re drinkin’ tea,” he muttered. “Got any beer?” he asked Essence.
“You need to be on your game, keeping us safe,” I reminded him. “Not downing beers.”
“Babe, I drink beer with breakfast,” he retorted.
“You lie,” I said.
“I’d suggest you spend the night with me and find out, but Rush’d have my balls, so you just gotta trust me.” Back to Essence. “Beer?”
“I think Boz left some brewskis in the fridge,” Essence told him.
He went to the fridge.
The cat went with him.
He got his beer and left.
The cat went with him, as well as Groucho jumping off the butcher block to follow.
“I think you’ve been dethroned,” Essence remarked, staring at the doorway Roscoe disappeared through. “There’s a new cat king.”
This kind of bummed me out.
I loved her cats.
My phone binged again.
I looked down at it.
Amy.
I opened the text.
Sorry, doll, we can’t make it Sunday. Raincheck?
Oh boy.
“What?” Essence asked.
“Amy,” I told her, picking up my phone to text back.
“And this is why your aura went gray,” Essence mumbled.
Everything cool? I texted to Amy.
“We were having brunch on Sunday. She’s cancelled,” I told Essence.
“From your aura, and the expression on your face, I’m guessing this is not a good thing,” Essence noted.
My phone binged again.
Fine. All fine. I’ll call soon and we’ll chat. Love you!
“She’s so lying,” I murmured and texted, Okay. I’m here if you need me. Love you back!
“Lying about what?” Essence asked.
Off the hook for brunch. Not sure that’s a good thing, I texted Rush and looked to Essence. “Paul’s kind of been hitting the bottle a lot since we lost Diane.”
“Ah,” she mumbled.
“I’m worried,” I told her.
“You would not be you if you weren’t.”
“Okay, when I said ‘kind of,’ I meant he’s maybe borderline alcoholic, with about a week until that’s minus the ‘borderline,’” I admitted.
“Ah, hell,” Essence mumbled.
“I was going to have a chat with him at brunch.”
Essence’s face wiped clean.
“I promised Amy,” I defended myself. “She says he won’t listen to her.”
My phone binged.
Text from Rush.
They cancelled?
Yeah, I texted back.
“Rebel, child,” Essence called.
I looked to her.
“If the borderline gets ixnayed, Amy needs to step up.”
“She says she can’t get through.”
“Well then,” Essence replied, “she has to try harder.”
It appeared Essence was in Rush’s camp when it came to this.
I should not be surprised. She had the wisdom and experience of age.
He had what I was sensing was an old soul.
My phone binged.
Rush.
Not your gig. Let it go, he said.
See?
We’ll talk later, I replied.
I turned my attention back to Essence. “Wanna help me pick out a ‘meet the sister’ outfit for tonight?”
She allowed my subject change, God bless her.
“So you’ve met the dad. And the stepmom. And now you’re meeting the sister?”
I nodded.
“Well, dear, his unusual name doesn’t need explaining.”
I grinned at her again.
My phone sounded.
And when we talk later, I’ll tell you it’s not your gig. Let it go. So, babe, let it go.
Hmm . . .
It was a text, and Rush and I had precisely eight bubbles on our text string, so I couldn’t really know.
Still, that tone didn’t seem like him.
Essence yelling, “Roscoe!” made me look again at her.
She looked at me.
“I like having an escort everywhere, even to your cottage. It makes me feel regal. I wish we had some crowns.”
I didn’t think Roscoe would dig on escorting two chicks wearing crowns.
He came in, neck of the beer bottle in the fingers of one hand, Groucho upside down purring loudly cradled in both arms.
Okay.
He was a cat king.
Maybe he wouldn’t mind crowns.
“We need to go to Rebel’s to pick out an outfit,” Essence announced.
Roscoe scowled.
Nope on the crowns.
Essence snatched up her glass. “Let’s go!”
She bounced toward Roscoe not missing a step even when it looked like he wouldn’t get out of her way.
At the last minute, he got out of her way.