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Chapter 6
Drake
Mymotherstrokedmyface. “Every time I see you, you’re even more handsome. You must have the girls going crazy.”
Crazy’s right. Only the wrong girl.
I loaded groceries into the cupboard and fridge. It was my weekly visit to my mother’s council flat in Lewisham. We’d moved there when I was ten, after my mother, unable to work, could no longer afford the mortgage payments for our Brixton home, where I was born and which had come with a backyard.
Now that I was earning a good wage, I paid for my mother’s food and bills. She struggled on her disability pension, and an apartment for her in Bridesmere sat at the top of my wish list.
“You’ve put on more weight, too.” She looked pleased.
That was how weird life was: my mother wanted me chubby while the rest of the world preached how being buff and lean would win us a healthy, happy life. Though pumping iron and running made me feel less anxious and healthier, I really didn’t care how I looked. Especially after witnessing how body-obsessed people wasted so much time staring at themselves in the mirror, craving perfection.
I made us a cup of tea and sat down in front of the television. My mother could move around on good days, but on bad days, which she associated with the weather, was riddled with pain.
“Thanks, love.” She picked up her cup and took a sip. “So, have you asked out that girl you like?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. She seems like trouble to me.”
“She’s young. They’re all trouble at that age, darling. If you like her, though, you should at least get to know her.”
Wise words. Perhaps I was being too presumptuous about Manon. If only she didn’t work at that sleaze bar, and I wondered about her relationship with Crisp. I’d seen how she flirted with him at that Merivale party.
The thought that she might have slept with him sickened me, despite my having no claim on her, but Manon had gotten under my skin. And that kiss. Woo. I hadn’t gotten that out of my body and head yet. Maybe I never would. I’d never nearly come from snogging before. But then, I’d never squeezed an arse like Manon’s before. I needed a cold shower just thinking about her rubbing her tits against me and how soft her lips felt, and I could swear I still smelled her floral perfume.
“Do you want me to order pizza?” I turned on my phone to make a call when a crapload of messages from Kylie rolled down my screen.
Shit.
“Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner at least?” she asked.
Tugging at my heart and protective urges, her eyes shone with a hint of need, though she would have been the first to deny it. My mother hated being a burden to anyone. She was far from that to me. That was why I wanted to move her closer to where I worked, so I could drop in more frequently.
I even suggested her meeting someone, but my mother scrunched her nose at that idea, reminding me that my father was the love of her life and that she had his memory to keep her warm at night.
That warmed my heart because etched in my memory was an honest, kind, and loving father who liked to kick the ball around with me, took me to games, and hugged me a lot.
I still remembered with frightening detail how everything had spiralled out of control the moment that call had arrived. I was at my grandmother’s house, where I’d often stayed whenever my parents went out on Saturday night.
Blood had drained from my body, and tears had blinded me for days, like my eyes had sprung an unfixable leak. My legs could barely hold me up, and someone had reached into my chest and ripped my heart out, squeezing the life from it.
And somehow, in that twilight zone of excruciating pain, another being had taken possession of me. After that, I had gone from being that kid that always helped the older lady next door with errands to an angry, withdrawn kid who hated the world. Maybe I should have gone to church, like my mother had suggested, instead of street fights.
Like my mother, I carried my father’s memory with me everywhere and even talked to him from time to time. He guided me, and I was a better person for having known him.
Also, thanks to Declan Lovechilde, I’d exorcised my inner angry person and had made peace with myself. A proper legend in my eyes, Declan did so much to help me and other troubled youth, just by trusting and giving us the support we’d always needed and by showing us what a strong, honest man looked like.
“We’ll go shopping tomorrow for some new clothes. Yes?”
Stroking my cheek again, she smiled. “You don’t really have to, love.”
“And Sunday we’ll go visit Betsy if you like.”
“Oh, and bore you with all her retelling of books she’s just read?”
I laughed. My mother had met Betsy, who had no family, at a group she’d just joined and liked to visit her.
