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She had that emaciated look that told me she was back on the hard drugs.
“I’m just drinking, I swear.”
Those pleading brown eyes were as full of shit as they always were, and I just sighed because I’d given up praying or hoping that she might change. Might get clean one of these days. I had a better chance at becoming President.
“I am, and I don’t need you giving me shit, Emmett. Always thinkin’ you’re better than me. Remember where you came from.”
Fuck. Here we go again. She was so damn bitter that Sadie had taken me in and given me direction in life, making it so she couldn’t use me to score drugs, make money.
“Is that why you called, Ma? To insult me?”
Cheryl flashed a smile that was almost reminiscent of the woman I’d seen glimpses of in my childhood, when she was sober, but it fell short because that woman no longer existed.
“You were always so sensitive, Emmett.”
As if she ever knew me or bothered to try.
“Well? What do you want this time?”
Her smile faded, and she patted a hand over her hair, a coquettish move that probably worked on dealers willing to accept currency other than cash for payment.
“I need some money, sweetheart.”
And there it was, the real reason for her call.
“Cheryl, your rent is paid and the fridge is full. I make sure of that. Every goddamn month.”
She’d shit a brick if she knew the Ashbys had been taking care of her for years. Colm insisted before he died.
“So you won’t give me a bit of spending money?”
“No.”
“What the fuck, Emmett? That old bitch has you so twisted up you’d leave your poor mother to fend for herself?”
I laughed in her face at that. “You have a place to stay and food to eat, thanks to me. But still, that’s not good enough for you. Take care of yourself, Cheryl.”
She sucked in a deep breath, her face growing redder by the second. “You ungrateful little shit! After all I’ve done—”
“Leave me to fend for myself when I was just a kid? Yeah, it doesn’t feel so good, does it? Try getting a job if you need more than food and shelter.”
Her eyes narrowed and her mouth screwed up into an ugly sneer. “I hate you! I fucking hate you and that smug smile. Get out.”
“Happily.” I had my own place and didn’t need to stand around and listen to her verbal assaults anymore. Not that it mattered. They stopped working on me right around the time I grew up enough to stop being afraid of her when she was drunk. Or high.
“I better not see you around here again,” she threatened as if she wouldn’t call again for money after a few days of partying, this encounter all but forgotten.
I waved as I walked away and took the stairs down and out to my car two at time, eager to put as much real estate between me and my mother as I could. I slid into the Tesla, too riled up to go home and relax, so I decided to cruise around town. Glitz at night was as lit up and energetic as Vegas with music pumping out of night clubs, bars, and casinos alike. The streets were littered with people, smiling and laughing, kissing in dark corners or outright groping each other on the street.
Glitz was alive. It was one of the reasons I came back here after the Army, though if I’d been thinking clearly instead of struck with grief over losing so many close buddies, Cheryl would’ve been the biggest reason to settle anywhere else.
But Glitz was home. It was where my family was, the family I’d chosen according to Vanessa. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I cruised into the parking lot at The Lucky Lopez, a strip club I frequented for no strings attached sex and made my way to the Valet. Letting go of some of this tension after my conversation with Cheryl would do me a world of good.
Laughter rang out, and I looked over at the two main performers. Honey Bum and Tawny had stepped out the side door for a smoke. Both ladies were beautiful and sexy as fuck, and I’d just had an all-night fuck fest threesome with them about two months ago.
What the fuck am I doing? I don’t want this.
With that thought, I sped out of the parking lot and made my way home. If I needed some stress relief, I’d take it out at the gym. Vanessa was who I wanted, and I hated myself for even stopping at Lucky Lopez.
I kicked off my shoes and plopped down on the couch. Fuck! What was I thinking? It was late and even though I was hungry, I didn’t have the energy or interest to eat anything more than a frozen pizza.
