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from my mother and her drama.
“Once you make your deposit for the month, we can start looking around for shops to buy.”
“Are you fucking serious?” she asked. “We’re there? Finally?”
“Yep. Checked the account yesterday when I made a deposit. Between the two of us, we’ve raised one hundred and thirty thousand dollars.”
“Once I make my deposit,” she said.
“Yep. Once you do that,” I said, grinning.
Lindy was going in with me on the clothing store. We were best friends since we were in middle school. At the bar, she was another under-aged girl who looked decent in a tight leather top and short-shorts, which meant she would rake in tips as well as men who would come to drink our disgusting concoctions. She loved the idea of an affordable biker-wear store, especially since leather jackets and the lace-up shoes were always so damn expensive everywhere.
The two of us had worked our asses off to save up the money we had. We never splurged on ourselves, and never spent a penny that didn’t need spending. We didn’t have credit cards, and we drove piece of shit cars that barely got us to and from our jobs. That’s the only way we’d been able to save up so much money in only two years. Well, that, and the money Lindy always seemed to accumulate from her various boyfriends over the years. She was a trooper.
Lindy was also the girl who could fix anything, from busted up laces and beat-up motorcycle helmets, all the way to motorcycles themselves. If it was in the biker world, she could fix it. I wanted her not only as someone I could trust to help run the place but as someone who could help open the patch shop I would eventually implement.
“You girls still talkin’ about that stupid shop?”
And my mother was back.
“Hello, Gracie,” Lindy said.
“Your top’s too tight,” my mother said.
“No luck with the guy in the corner?” I asked.
“Cock’s too small.”
“Fuck, Mom. Seriously?” I asked.
“You fucking asked. Keep your mouth shut if you don’t wanna know.”
“And yes, we were talking about the shop,” Lindy said.
“It’s a stupid idea. It’ll never work,” my mother said.
“We’ve already saved up—.”
“Lindy. No,” I said, shaking my head.
“Saved up what?” my mother asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You’re living in my house and under my roof. You’re supposed to be helping me with bills,” my mother said.
“And I do. I pay the electric bill, the water bill, and I stock the fridge. Plus, you drink for free. Whatever I do with my money outside of that isn’t your damn business.”
I pulled another shot glass from beneath the counter and poured her a shot. She threw it back, and I promptly refilled it as Lindy’s eyes grew wide.
“How much has she had already?” she asked.
“Not fucking enough,” I said.
“Okay,” my mother said breathlessly. “Let’s go see if his cock grew a bit.”
“I don’t think you understand how alcohol works,” I said.
