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“And she never punished you?”
“No. She’s a psychologist.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She grins. “But it took me a little while to catch on. See, she must’ve known about that saying, ‘strict parents make the best liars,’ as well, so she gave me a way to get it out without being a bad parent. It was ingenious, really, because no matter what I did, I knew I’d have to tell her while we were watering the plants, so in some sense, she kept me from doing the really bad stuff like hard-core drugs and sleeping around when I was younger.”
“Smart mom.”
“Yeah, she is. How about you? Was your mom strict? I mean, raising three boys, she probably had to be.”
“My mom wasn’t strict,” he says, taking a sip of his water.
His expression switches from happy to somber. The mood change has me probing further.
“You said she lives around here?” I pick up my wineglass.
“She lives at the women’s correctional facility in Parrish.”
Wineglass midway to my mouth, I freeze. “What?”
“She’s serving twenty-five to life for killing my father.”
I lower the glass from my mouth, which is still partially open.
I’m not sure what to say, but an apology falls from my lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My father abused her for years. One night, she tried to protect herself and shot him.”
“And she went to jail for it?”
“Yes. My father comes from old money. My mom’s public defender was no match to his high-priced lawyers.”
Mouth still open, I stare at him. “What happened to you and your brothers?”
“We went into the system.” He settles back in the chair. “We lived with a nice family for the first year and a half, but then our foster dad got sick with leukemia, and between the medical bills and his health, they had to give us up. At the time, I was fourteen. It was difficult to place us all together. A nice couple from Miami took me in. Cole ended up with a rich couple in Hollywood. Lix, well, he never made it out of Fort Lauderdale. He jumped around in different foster homes until he was arrested for a misdemeanor and ended up in juvie.”
“Oh, that’s awful.” I’m stunned by what he said and that he told me at all. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“We survived. It wasn’t all bad. My foster father, Callen, owned a construction company and taught me everything he knew. He’s a good man, but he’s also a functioning alcoholic. It didn’t interfere with his job or me. He was good to me. He just liked to drink.”
“So you kept in touch with your brothers through the years?”
“No. We lost touch along the way.” He looks as if debating whether to continue.
Forget about the toothpaste. I want to know more about his life and what made him the man he is today.
It’s all making more sense. His childhood and who he has become because of it. It answers the question as to why he does the escort service.
I release my breath, and to my utter surprise, he starts talking again.
“When I graduated from high school, I’d saved enough money to buy a foreclosed home. I flipped it. Then I bought another one, and by the time I was twenty, I moved out and started my own construction company. One day, Cole showed up at my door. He moved in, and we started working together. I taught him everything I knew. We looked for Lix, found him at the boy’s detention, and when he turned eighteen, we were there waiting for him when he was released. We’ve been together ever since.”
“I’m glad you all were able to find each other. Your mom, she’s why you started the escort service?”
“We kind of fell into that. I was doing an addition for a woman.” He pauses. “Jane.”
Jane? There she is again. Like Brett, she seems like a big part of what they do.
