"He's not trying to woo me." I swallow.
"Uh-huh, because men aren't always thinking about sex? Let's see… EA… I'd imagine maybe he'd give you a little wax figurine of a woman in a coffin or a book made out of his own skin or perhaps just something simple like a notebook full of criticisms."
I force a laugh. "No, he's just… I don't know. He took me to dinner, and he's been pulling out chairs and giving me these little touches—like brushing his hand over my arm when he likes a line I write. He's just touchy and stares at me with this really weird look…" The traffic light turns red, and I brake, staring out at the strip mall busy with people spending their money.
"Aw, EA's in love." She tosses her head back, laughing as she slams her palm on the dashboard. "Bless him."
Obviously this seems funny to her, but the more I replay the way his dead eyes will lock on me from across the room, the more my stomach knots. I panic a little. "Janine, I'm serious. There's something weird about him."
"Oh, there surely is."
"It makes me uncomfortable."
She glances at me, her smile fading. "He can do that. When I first started working with him, every once in a while, he'd give me the heebie-jeebies. He's just… difficult—complicated. Antisocial and awkward. But it's not like he'd ever force himself on you or anything. He's a good guy deep down inside. Just a bit of a weirdo, you know?"
"He ate raw deer meat today while staring at me."
A scowl forms on her face. "Yeah, well, that's just gross."
"I don't know if I can finish this book with him if I'm honest. I can't explain it. You'd just have to be there to understand how weird all this is." The light turns green, and I gently press down the accelerator.
She shakes her head. "You gotta finish it. Please, for the love of God and my sanity, finish this book with him. How far in are you guys?"
"About forty thousand."
"Okay, so what, two more weeks if you guys get after it? I'll come stay up there and snuggle you if I need to. I promise, honey, he's odd, but he's harmless. I've worked for him for five years. I mean, hell, I've cussed him out a time or two, and I'm still here."
My phone rings. Janine keeps talking as I dig around in my purse, attempting to keep my eyes on the road.
"Let's just go grab some food. I swear that cabin is enough to creep out Alfred Hitchcock, you know? Out in the middle of God's country and all those damn animal heads staring at you. And then throw in EA and his antics…"
“Sure.”
She points out of the window. "Applebee's okay with you? They have the best raspberry cosmo—"
"Yeah, it's fine." I stop at another traffic light and grab my phone from my purse, staring at the number flashing on the screen. I press Ignore, but she calls right back.
“You can turn,” Janine says.
I glance away from the phone and floor the gas, nearly fishtailing as I turn into the parking lot. There’s a spot right to the side of the entrance. I pull in and put the car into park, my phone still ringing.
Janine glances from me to my phone and back at me. "You gonna answer it?"
"No." I hit Ignore again. And immediately, my mother is calling again.
Janine raises a brow. "Someone really wants to talk to you…" She opens the door and steps out of the car. "If you need a minute, I'll just be at the bar."
The door slams shut, and I watch Janine sashay to the front of the building. The phone vibrates again, Bush’s “Comedown” playing from the small speaker. Listening to the song, to the beautiful lyrics, I stare at the number, wondering what the hell she wants. Mother's never been persistent with anything in her life, being a parent included.
My pulse picks up, that angry heat flooding my face when I press Answer and raise the phone to my ear. "What?" I can't control the hate in my voice. I really can't.
"Baby," she slurs, "I'm so proud of my baby."
"Excuse me?"
"Your writing." A hacking cough comes across the line. "Momma's so proud of you."
My skin crawls like I imagine it would if I were covered in a pile of writhing maggots. She must have heard about me getting that job with Edwin. Fucking bitch.
"I bet you are," I scoff.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"I guess now you want to try to be the supportive mother you should have always been, huh? If you think I will ever forget the shit you did to me, the shit you put me through—"
“I did the best I could," she says.
"Well, could've fooled me. Telling your daughter she's worthless and pathetic and will never amount to anything. Stupid. Ignorant…" I can still hear the disdain in her voice when she'd shout those words at me. "A mistake. A pain in your ass. That's the best you could do, Mother, really?"
"We all make mistakes. I am proud of you. I always knew you'd be something great. My little girl, a New York Times best seller…"
Closing my eyes, I shake my head in disbelief. She really thinks I’m going to hit a list with Edwin and give her something. "What are you fucked up on right now? Meth, crack, heroin, or are you just drunk?"