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“Just take it easy on this then,” Davey said, pushing my glass away. “Maybe soda the rest of the night?”
Soda at a bar didn’t sound fun, but I told them what they wanted so they’d lay off. I didn’t need their reasoning. I needed more drinks, and after they left, I had a few more that made things triple when I eventually pulled my phone out of my pocket at the end of the night. I meant to use an app for a ride-share but ended up in my university email account. A few touches, and I hit the subject line.
“You’re an asshole,” I grumbled out, typing the very phrase. I was bumped in the crowded bar, but still managed to find LJ’s email address to put into the recipient line. The address auto populated with just his L since I’d recently sent him an email to come to my office hours about the extra credit.
Snorting at how easy it was, I thumbed down to the text area, my fingers moving in rapid fire.
“Dear Mr. Asshole, congratulations. Your assholery—” I backspaced, trying to figure out if that was a word or not. I shrugged, typing on. “Your assholery won you this round. Congratu-fucking-lations. You may think because you’re sexy as fuck you can walk around this place like a damn god, but you can’t. You know why? Because I see you for who you truly are. You’re a big, stupid turd you TURD and I may not be able to fail you but I’ll be watching you and you better watch out! I’m CC-ing Professor Douglas on this email and now he’ll know what an asshole you are too. Haha. HA! I win this round you dick. And you think you’re going to break me? Well, I’m going to break you, you… DICK.”
I didn’t even type my name at the end. He’d know who this came from since I sent it. Instead, I popped Professor Douglas’s email address in the CC line and jovially hit send.
Laughing at how much trouble he’d get into now that the professor knew the truth, I thumbed through my contacts. I had been going to send for a ride-share, but suddenly tears filled my eyes. I was a sloppy drunk. I knew I was, and suddenly I didn’t want to be alone.
I needed my mom.
Chapter Nine
Billie
I woke up with the most epic hangover and truly no idea why my mom was shaking me. It took me a moment to realize I was back home, in my mom’s house, and splayed out on her couch like I’d collapsed there. I had my clothes on and everything, blankets wrapped around my legs while my mom nudged me with a frown on her face. I groaned, lifting my head. “How did I get here?”
I really didn’t remember, the pounding inside my noggin telling me why. Last thoughts I recalled, I’d been at the bar with Davey and Griffin. I’d been drinking… well, a lot because my boyfriend broke up with me.
Emotion immediately heated my throat, my eyes welling at the memory. He’d said he wanted a break, but this had come only after he found LJ basically all over me. I told him nothing went on there, but even still, Sinclair said he needed space. He said he had his own shit to work out or something…
His excuse was complete crap, and I felt on the brink of tears again. Hugging a pillow in my arms, my mom pulled one of those numbers I usually did when she left my sorry butt on the couch and jerked the curtains open.
I hissed like a vampire from the sun, cowering like a wounded animal. This scene was terribly familiar as I’d just done that with Mom at the beginning of term. Well, she was sober now, her hands on her trim hips and disappointment twisting her brow. She was also fully dressed, in her pumps and cute dress. She pouted. “You don’t remember me coming to get you last night? Well, basically this morning? I actually came away from a party sober to get you.”
I didn’t remember any of that. Not calling her or even seeing her last night. I palmed my eyes from the bright sun. “I don’t remember. What time is it?”
“Um, almost nine o’clock. Don’t you have classes today?”
Fuck, not my class this early, but I did have my recitation for Professor Douglas.
My head sagged forward as I attempted to even think about doing anything today, my mom’s smoke filling the room. She had a cigarette, the end red from her lipstick.
“Honestly, what’s gotten into you, my love?” She sighed. Something else she hadn’t done until after her and my father’s divorce—smoke. She puffed a cloud. “And you get at me for drinking too much.”
I totally did because she did drink too much. Gripping the couch, I stood, shaking my head, and Mom joined me in her cute, little dress. She frowned. “Is this a cry for help?”
I didn’t think so, but then again, maybe it was. I’d gotten drunk, basically wasted with colleagues, and then called my mom like a little baby to pick me up. If that didn’t scream cry for help, I didn’t know what did, but sighing, my mom put her arm around me.
“I don’t want to rush you out, but I’m having a gathering later, a brunch,” she said, hence why she was actually put together before noon. “I have some help coming over to get the house together, but I’ll cancel the whole thing if you need me to.”
No, she was so not pulling a me right now. Trying to be the shoulder to lean on when the other was falling apart. And I definitely wasn’t her, a sad woman moaning over the sad loss of her man. I loved my mother, but that’s exactly what she did, and still did, after Daddy left. My mother, God love her, pissed her days away to social events, al
cohol, and at least a fair amount of the opposite sex. That was if her tryst with LJ was any indicator.
“I’m fine.” I wavered a bit, ignoring her hands. I patted the air. “I swear just… let me go. I got it.”
She said nothing, sighing again. I supposed she didn’t have a choice.
I guessed she knew what it felt like now to watch someone broken.
*
Professor Douglas caught me on the way to recitation. His and the TA offices were on the way to my classroom and what a fine time for the educator to see me. I’d showered at Mom’s house, but I was still hung the hell over. I also hadn’t had any clothes over at my mom’s house and had to wear some of hers, the yellow sundress and heeled pumps the best I could do at trying to appear at all professional. It was the longest dress she had, the belled skirt stopping mid-calf. I would have went for some of her pants, but unfortunately, everything I tried on in her closet basically looked painted on my ass. I’d like to say Mom’s sultry personal tastes came after my dad and her divorce, but my mom had always been that way. She knew she looked good and wanted to flaunt it. Unfortunately for me, that left me with very little options when trying to come to essentially my job and look like I didn’t step out of a beach catalog. I was even wearing sunglasses, my head still pounding from last night.
