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Through his teammates.
“How about you, hun?” she asked Dex directly.
“Yeah, coffee,” he muttered without looking at her. She poured while Dex tried to get a grip on his emotions. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be here in his space. In his life.
One of the guys asked Ruby if she’d seen the game last night.
“Of course I did. Quite the barnstormer.”
“Yeah, we have this guy to thank.” Foreman nudged Dex. “He’s playing like a dream.”
He couldn’t bear to look at her. Would she look proud, or would she keep a vapid blankness so as to ensure he wouldn’t blow up in her face?
I made it, he wanted to yell at her. No thanks to you.
He kept his head down, even when he put in his order for a Denver omelet, even when she set it before him, like some twisted parody of his childhood when she’d serve up Sloppy Joes and a glass of milk.
Eat up, Dexy. You should be in bed before Kane comes over.
Already tipsy, alcohol fumes wafting off her, she’d sit and watch him eat and as soon as that last morsel passed his lips, it was, “Okay, Dexy. Go do your homework now.” Banished to his room with Loki, he’d put on his headphones and try to analyze math problems that meant nothing to him and stuff that had happened to other people and seemed so far away from his life.
He’d hoped they’d get to stay in this apartment longer than the last one. Ruby had a habit of losing her jobs, usually because she was too hungover to make it in on time. But this last one, a receptionist at a tire repair shop on Chicago’s North Side where Kane was her boss, seemed to be sticking.
Or maybe it was because Kane was sticking it to his mom.
Dex didn’t like the guy and the feeling was clearly mutual. But if his mom was happy and somehow managed to remain employed, what did he care? This way, they could pay the rent and stay longer. And all he had to do was put up with a few sharp comments and the occasional slap across the mouth, the last one coming the week before when Mom had gone to the bathroom and Kane thought Dex was backtalking. Just because Dex wouldn’t get him a beer from the fridge.
Better not to tell her that Kane got physical. Because there was a delicate balance to be maintained. Keep Mom happy. Keep Kane happy. Keep his mother in a job, even one where the boss might overlook her tardiness and vodka-perfumed breath. Keep them in this apartment, this one place they could call home, because Dex was sick of moving. Sick of change. Sick of being the new kid everywhere he went.
But it didn’t matter in the end because the balance was too precarious. All Dex had to do was stay out of Kane’s way, but even then, self-sabotage was his bag. He would see how far he could push, then push a little more. Until someone got hurt and the blood started to flow …
Back in the present, he looked up, realizing that someone was talking to him. Not her, but one of the guys.
He forced a smile as if he knew what the hell they were yammering on about. She was gone, thank God. Hadn’t even stuck around to congratulate him, which was fine. He didn’t need her praise.
After lunch, Dex told the guys to go on ahead because he needed to use the bathroom. He headed back to the table where Ruby was clearing.
“What’s going on?”
Silently, she continued stacking the plates, her focus on the task at hand.
“Laughing and joking with the guys? Is this your way of getting to me?”
She sighed. “I’m just doing my job. The guys are friendly and my job is to be friendly back. We work for tips, y’know.”
“Well, here’s a tip: stay away from my friends.” Something else occurred to him. “Have you told anyone that you’re my—” He hesitated, unable to say it aloud.
“Your mother, Dex.” The words came drenched in acid, but then the next ones were softer, regretful. “Have I told anyone that we’re related or that I’m sorry for everything I put you through or that I wish more than anything we could?—”
“Nah ah, not doing this. You shouldn’t be here. I’m building a life and I sure as hell do not need you here screwing it up again.”
She looked like he’d struck her.
He felt like he had. His entire body was in some sort of meltdown, and all he had to do was say sorry and give her a kind word. That might fix how he was feeling, or it might make it worse. He didn’t know, so going for the knife—ha, the irony—was the best way to escape this onslaught of emotion.
“Dex, I need to talk to you. To tell you things.”
“And I need you to stay away. I won’t come in here again until I know you don’t work here anymore. I’m not saying you have to quit. Everyone needs to pay the bills, but as long as you’re here, I won’t be.”
