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Same old story. Slightly different words. He managed to hmm and ahh at the right times, but really his attention was directed at the woman standing next to an oversize shopping bag, who was currently pulling a red neckerchief out and holding it in front of her face like she was doing the dance of the seven veils.
A mischievous grin pulled at her lips as she waved the neckerchief back and forth, her hips rolling sensually as she lifted it over her head and slowly turned in a circle, still gyrating and dancing to a beat nobody else could hear.
Everybody was staring at her, and either she didn’t notice or didn’t care. The latter, probably. She was having too much fun, twirling and waving and making him grin and shake his head.
“Jackson, did you hear me?”
“Sorry, Mom. I’m in the mall, it’s loud. I can call you back later.”
“No, please,” His mom’s voice was almost a shout. “I just need a little help, sweetie. A couple of thousand will do. I’ll pay it back, just as soon as my friend gives me the money back.”
Jackson realized he’d missed most of her story. Not that it mattered, he’d bet two thousand dollars it was all made up. “I spoke to Dad, he already gave you money.”
Lydia slowly spun to a halt, and tied the scarf around her neck, then leaned forw
ard and lifted her hands to her lips, blowing him an exaggerated Marilyn Monroe style kiss.
An old man sitting on a bench nearby started clapping.
“She’s crazy, but she’s hot,” a younger guy said, walking by.
“This is for something else,” his mom said. “And he promised not to tell you. I need it for something else.”
“What?”
There was silence as she most certainly thought up an excuse. “My water heater is broken.”
“So call the landlord.”
“I have. And he’s repairing it. But I can’t live without hot water, Jackson. I need to move into a motel for a few days.”
Damn, she was getting worse. This had to be the third time this year she’d called him for money, and it was only mid-March. And god only knew how often she’d called his dad. Everybody knew Ryan Lewis was a soft touch when it came to his ex-wife. Especially his ex-wife.
“I’m not giving you any money.”
“What? But I’m your mom, sweetheart. I really need your help.” She sounded almost panicked. “I promise I’ll give it back. I will. Please, sweetie.”
A man walked over and was talking to Lydia. He said something to her and she started to laugh. And damn if she didn’t remind him of his mom in that moment.
Growing up, Jackson’s mom had always been the life and soul of the party. He could remember how excited he’d get when she’d tell him he didn’t have to go to school that day because they were going on an adventure. She’d take him to Disneyland without telling his dad where they were going, or on a whale watching tour when he should have been studying in second grade.
And then she’d left. Suddenly and painfully. He’d watched his dad wither beneath her loss, the same way Jackson had. As though the light had been sucked out of their life.
When the man walked away and Lydia smiled over at him again, Jackson didn’t smile back. Because none of his thoughts were making sense.
“I’ll think about it,” he said, his voice almost robotic as he spoke to his mom.
“Oh thank you, darling. I knew you loved me really.” She gave a little laugh.
“I have to go. I have work to do.” His voice was dull.
“But I thought you were at the mall,” she said. Realizing she’d gotten what she wanted, she quickly changed direction. “Never mind, maybe I misheard. I have to go, too, but I’ll send you a text right now. Love you, baby.”
“You, too.” He ended the call and stuffed the phone back in his pocket, his mind still dazed by his sudden revelation about Lydia Paxton.
Though he knew part of it was untrue – she wasn’t like his mom. She was too kind, too empathetic for that. But it didn’t matter, because the protective shield he’d built up, the one that stopped him from feeling hurt or abandoned ever since his mom had left him, was slowly rising back up.
It only had one job. The same job it always had where relationships were concerned. To stop him from getting hurt.
