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“Fine,” my mom says and mimes that she’s zipping her lips. Then she immediately breaks it. “Look… try to think of something you could’ve overheard at the bar one night when the team was there. Something other people might know so you wouldn’t be an obvious source.”
Carmine leans forward. “Like I said… you don’t have to be the only one to know it. Just the only one who’s willing to tell.”
A thought strikes me. “Everything I say is off the record, right?”
“Absolutely,” Carmine says.
“Okay, for example—but I’m not giving you permission to use this… last year someone was in an accident and wrecked the car of a teammate, and there were some issues arising from that. Something like this?”
I feel comfortable divulging that because Hendrix told me an accident report was filed, so it’s public record.
“Yes, exactly like that,” Carmine says with excitement, his eyes sparkling with something I can’t quite define. “If you give me details of what happened—”
“Wait a minute,” I say, studying him for a long moment. Deep in his eyes, I see something salacious. And suddenly, despite the fact everything about him to this point has seemed very professional, I get an uneasy feeling.
Add to that I’m absolutely heartsick over even sitting here, contemplating this harebrained scheme.
“Honey,” my mom says, because I’m sure she’s reading my doubt in the set of my shoulders. She grips my arm. “This is the only way to ensure I can get the money.” She tightens her hold and leans in to whisper so Carmine can’t hear. “The only way to save my life.”
My chest feels like someone kicked it in with a steel-toed boot. The rush of emotions twists my stomach—guilt over what I’d be doing to Hendrix, anger at my mom for putting me in this position, and confusion on how I can help her and still maintain my integrity.
And then it hits me.
It’s so very simple. I can’t keep my morals and principles intact if I do this.
Absolute regret almost releases a sob from my throat, but I punch it down. Grabbing my purse, I stand up so quickly, my chair topples over. I look down at my mom. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. You’re asking me to break trust with a man I care for, and I can’t do it.”
“Even at my expense?” she asks. “I could be hurt… killed.”
“I’ll find another way,” I mutter, stepping back from her and righting the chair. “I’m sorry.”
I spin and rush out of the coffee shop, coming to a stop as soon as the cold air hits my lungs. I bend over, gasping as my entire body locks up, wondering if I’ve just made the right decision. I try to take in a deep breath, feeling I’m on the edge of a panic attack.
Never had one before, but it’s like I’m balancing a stack of plates on my fingertip and they’re about to come crashing down.
“How could you do this, Stevie?”
I spin around to find my mom has followed me out. I straighten and shore up my spine when I see the anger in her eyes. I hear it in her tone. “I’m sorry, but you can’t ask me to compromise myself. I’ll figure out something else.”
“You’ve had two weeks already,” she snaps.
“I’ll see about taking out a business loan or something.”
“That will take too long.”
A wave of fury crashes through me. “Goddamn it, Mom. This is not my problem, it’s yours. You’ve done nothing throughout my life to give me any reason to help you, and yet here I am trying. How dare you even act offended by my inability to pull ten thousand dollars out of thin air?”
She steps in close to me, her expression softened with tears filling her eyes. “I may not have been a good mom, but I’m still your mother. I’m your blood. And I may not have been there before, but I’m here now. I’m trying.”
I take in a breath and let it out. “Yes… I know. But I have my limits on what I’m willing to do for you, and that reporter is a hard limit.”
“Ungrateful brat,” she hisses at me, and I’m so stunned by this abrupt turnabout from teary-eyed guilt trip that I step back. “You wonder why I left? It’s because of that very reason. You were a little monster, always whining and pulling on me. You and your sisters… sniffling little brats always so demanding of my time.”
“Stop it,” I whisper.
“You know it’s true. If you were a better kid, maybe I would have stuck around.” She steps in closer to me, lips peeled back in a rage. “You’re useless, Stevie. Absolutely a waste of space.”
Many people might be destroyed by the backlash she just handed me, but my father built me of sterner stuff. Years of therapy, journaling, and a good role model has prepared me for this, the day when I have to confront my mom and her failings—again.
