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CHAPTERONE
LEX
“Brenda, why are you so wiggly?” I sigh loudly, my gloved hands trying to hold her head still. “You’re ninety years old. You should not be moving this much. You’re going to break a hip or something.”
She wiggles some more, and I purse my lips, trying to apply the last of the hair dye to her bobbing head.
Brenda chuckles a little, her mouth quirking into a sassy smile. “Ninety’s notthatold. Plus, I’ll be sitting still when I’m dead. Got to move while I still can.”
“Do not talk about dying,” I mutter as I squeeze the last of the red dye onto her white hair. “You’re going to live another thirty years. I looked it up. It’s possible.”
She smiles up at me and I blink down at her. I’m not fucking joking. Brenda will live forever if I have anything to do with it. I’m going to go all mad scientist on this shit. I have the goggles and everything. I could probably even manage the wacky hair too if I put some effort into it.
Brenda chuffs a laugh. “You’re a hoot, Lex.”
I sniff. “Yes, I know I am. I happen to know this about myself. I crack myself up all the time.”
She resumes wiggling and I just sigh, letting her. In a way, she reminds me of my best friend, Emery. That guy never sits still. He’s a human pogo stick. Maybe that’s why I love her so damn much. Is it possible for old ladies to have ADHD? Is that a thing?
“My grandson is so different from you, and yet, you’re so alike. I can’t wait for you two to meet. You will be electric together,” she says after a moment.
Oh, I’ve heardallabout her grandson—the elusive asshole who makes no time to visit his grandma. No, that dick just left her here to rot while he travels the United States, living the high life. He’s in Florida right now, supposedly doing some accounting work. She has shown me all the pictures he sends. There is no way that man is hunched over a calculator crunching numbers.
Nope, that juicy hunk of man-meat has left his grandma here alone while he fucks his way across the country. I can almost guarantee it because my accountants haveneverlooked likethat.
Listen, here’s my issue with this asshole. If I had a family member, anyone like Brenda, I’d never leave them. I would have a hard time even going on vacation. I would probably take them with me…just straight up buy an RV and tote them around.
As it is, I have cameras all over the hallways of this facility, making sure they’re all safe. No one is hurting my ladies. If they do, I know of ways to dispose of bodies. With just a press of a button, they’d disappear without a trace, never to be found.
“Well, I don’t know if I want to meet him,” I reply. But there’s no conviction in my voice because the truth is, if Brenda wants us to meet, we’ll meet. Like I’d ever say no to her. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Stop scratching your head. Jesus, now look. Your fingers are red. It looks like you’ve murdered someone.”
Her pale blue eyes meet mine and she smiles. “Lex, you’re much too bossy. I have seventy years on you. You can’t tell me what to do. We’ve been over this.”
“Well, I boss you around anyways, and you always listen to me. Plus, you told me you love me. Too bad, so sad, you’re stuck with me. I was love deprived as a child.” I gently place a shower cap over the top of her head just as there’s a faint knock on the door.
Brenda moves to get up and I hiss at her to sit her ass down. These ladies are all over the place. Goddammit, if one of them falls….
As it is, Brenda’s walker sits discarded in the corner. I bought it for her three months ago and she uses it to house her potted plants. I’m a little insulted, to be honest. That thing has fucking all-terrain wheels on it.
I walk the ten feet to the door and wrench it open.
“Vikki, Martha, what a lovely fucking surprise,” I say, and Vikki giggles, pulling me into a tight hug.
“How’s my boy?” she asks and my heart warms. Yeah, I’ve never been anyone’s boy. My mom was a crack addict who loved getting high more than she loved me, and my dad is in prison for life. I’ve never met the dude. Honestly, I’ve felt more parental love in the last six months from these three women than I have in my entire life. So, sue me for sticking around. My therapist says I need to fill that hypothetical affection jar inside of me. And let me tell you, it’s pretty fucking full at the moment.
Who would have thought that installing the security cameras and upgrading the Wi-Fi at a senior living facility would lead me down this path to finally finding a family?
Not me, that’s who.
“Martha, love the hair,” I say, admiring the bright silver locks I’d dyed two days ago. We match now. “I’m dying Brenda’s right now. It’s blood red.”
“How creepy. Can’t wait to see it,” Martha says and pulls me in for a long hug. When we pull apart, I show them inside, holding onto Martha since she seems a little wobblier these days.
Goddammit, why couldn’t I have met them ten years ago? Even a year ago would have been better than this. Why does it feel like each day they grow older and older? What the fuck am I going to do if one of them ever…? I shove the thought away.
Not happening. Thirty more years for each. I decree it.
I make them each a cup of green tea as they settle into their seats, chitchatting about whatever the fuck is going on around here. I’ve researched this shit and it’s the healthiest. I’m trying to get them to commit to being a vegetarian like me, but Martha holds onto meat like a caveman and Vikki gives two fucks about her health.
