She rolled out of bed to get ready for classes and trudged into the small bathroom and cranked on the shower. She let out a sigh as she shampooed her hair, thinking about her mother. Somehow Amber had become the parent figure in their relationship. She’d looked after her mom since Mom and Dad had split up years ago. It hadn’t been pretty and her mom had been a mess. She’d been in no shape to look after her teenage daughter, and Amber’d had to pull it together and take care of both of them. They’d been publicly humiliated and left with nothing after her father’s epic fall from grace.
Also, she was so close to finishing her degree. It was only a few months and she’d be done and working full time. She’d already started sending resumes to the places she was most interested in working with, hopeful of hearing soon about interviews.
So maybe she could keep working at the Sin Bin. Surely those hockey players wouldn’t be there that often. And if they were, she could handle it. She’d learned over the last few years how tough she was and that she could handle pretty much anything.
So why was Duncan Armstrong getting to her so much?
Yesterday, when he’d come to pick up his keys, she’d been softened up by how nice and normal he and his friends had been Saturday night. She’d enjoyed talking to them. She liked his sister, who seemed really down to earth and fun. So for some crazy reason, she’d impulsively invited him to stay for coffee.
And he’d turned her down.
He couldn’t get out of there fast enough, apparently.
Well, she’d done the same to him. He’d asked her out. She’d turned him down. Now they were even.
She rinsed her hair, applied conditioner while she used her favorite ylang ylang bodywash to scrub all over and shave her legs, then rinsed again.
She didn’t want to think about Duncan Armstrong. About his square chin, gorgeous eyes, and boyish smile. About his ripped body and sense of humor.
She would not think about those things.
All day she tried not to think about those things, through Issues in Urban and Regional Economics class and then Power and Culture in American Cities. She tried not to think about those things while she was working on her thesis in the library. But then the phone call from her mother really made her forget those things. For a while, anyway.
“Hi, sweetie,” her mom greeted her when she’d stepped outside the library to take the call. “How are you?”
“I’m good, Mom. You?”
“I’m okay. A little short of money.”
As usual. That’s what this call was about. “Did you get the check I sent?”
“Yes. Thank you so much. I had to put it on my credit card. The credit card company wouldn’t let me use my card. Oh my God, that was so embarrassing!”
“Mom.” Amber closed her eyes. “I told you not to use the credit card.”
“I don’t have much choice. It’s the only way I can make ends meet.”
“Mom, your ends would meet a lot easier if you didn’t spend so much money on things you don’t need.”
They’d had this conversation so many times. Mom just didn’t get how to manage money. Amber had physically cut up her mother’s credit cards more than once, but somehow Mom always ended up with new ones. Trying to maintain a lifestyle she’d had early in her marriage with no money had dragged her deep into debt, and Amber’d been working for years to try to help bail her out. While supporting herself and paying for college. Now she had student loans and was in debt herself, despite working two part-time jobs. She was also exhausted all the time. But the end was in sight.
“I do need those things,” Mom said. “I try to keep it reasonable but I…need to keep up appearances.”
Mom was still trying to attract a rich husband six years after her first marriage had ended. Mom worked part time at an art gallery, which didn’t pay well but had the right kind of image. She didn’t want to look like she needed to work, and she didn’t have much in the way of education or training to get a better paying job. She’d married when she was barely out of high school and had never had to get a job.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Amber sighed. “But Mom, I can’t do this forever.”
Silence. “I know, baby. I don’t expect it forever. Someday…”
The first time Amber had told her mom neither of them could rely on finding a rich husband to support them, her mother had burst into tears. So Amber didn’t say it now, even though she was thinking it. Yes, she knew her mom was weak and needy and fragile. She wasn’t going to change; Amber had given up on that.
“I know, Mom. I’ve got a photo shoot this week that’s good money and I’ll see if I can squeeze in an extra shift at the restaurant.”
“You should just quit school and model full time.”