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“I ain’t asking for your life story,” I mutter, inhaling on the cigarette before slowly releasing the smoke. “I wanna know what made you kill that fucker before I managed to.”
She smirks. “So, you’re not pissed I killed him, just that I beat you to it?”
“I had a score to settle.”
“And you think I didn’t? He might have been my son, but he was far from a good person.”
“Yeah, Luna told me all about him,” I say, bitterness lacing my tone.
She scoffs. “She thinks she’s had such a hard life. She’ll have you believing she was a victim in all this.”
“Wasn’t she?”
“She was a promiscuous girl right from very young, always flirting with the men and fluttering those long eyelashes they all loved. And she didn’t speak—they loved that shy bullshit she gave off. Sweet, innocent, cute, and she had the looks to go with it.” She says the words through gritted teeth, like she’s jealous. “One night, I came home late, and you know what she was doing? Fucking her dad’s best friend while he watched. She was eleven.”
Sickness stirs in the pit of my stomach. “What?”
“Exactly. Eleven years old and trying to please grown men. He never looked at me the same again after that,” she mutters, staring off into space. “I could see it in his eyes—he wanted her, not me.”
I wince as she spits the words in anger. “You think that was her fault?” I ask, crushing my cigarette in the overflowing ashtray.
“She wanted attention. Her dad brought his friends back and they all loved her over me. And then he was gone,” she clicks her fingers, “and we were left with his debts. And the men didn’t stop coming. They’d had a taste of her and were lining up, so I had no choice but to charge. How the fuck else would I have fed and clothed her?”
“She was just a kid,” I mutter, scrubbing my hands over my face.
“Mature for her age,” she says.
“But still just a kid,” I repeat. “All that shit should’ve been hidden from her. The drugs, the drink, the sex.”
“She was always clinging to me,” she snaps. “How the hell was I meant to work with a kid clinging to my side?”
“She was probably fucking terrified,” I suddenly yell, and she jumps in fright. I stand, releasing a long breath to try and keep calm cos as much as I want to end this fucking bitch, I can’t. Not yet, and not with my hands. “You made her think she didn’t have a choice. You and Nate sold her for your own gains.”
“I knew she’d tell you some sob story,” she scoffs. “Why else would you want her?”
I turn to her, pushing my face to hers until she’s practically lying back in the chair, her eyes wide with fear. “Being forced into prostitution by the woman who’s meant to protect you isn’t a fucking sob story,” I growl. “You make me sick.”
I move away and grab the half-drunk whiskey bottle from the side. I go to the kitchen and grab two glasses. Pulling out the pill bottle, I empty the contents into the glass. I’m surprised when I find a rolling pin in a drawer, arching my brow as I shake my head. I can’t imagine her baking.
I use the end to crush the tablets into a fine powder then spoon some into the other glass and half fill it with the amber liquid. I give it a stir, waiting for the powder to disappear before taking the bottle off the side and carrying that and the glass back into the living room. I hold the glass to her, and she eyes it suspiciously. When she makes no move to take it, I roll my eyes and sit down on the couch. “Fine, I’ll drink alone.” I move the glass to my lips, and before I’m forced to take a sip, she holds out her hand for it.
I give it over and take a swig from the bottle. “My mum was like you,” I say. “A whore who justified it by saying she had to put food on the table somehow.”
“Being a parent is hard. You’ll see.”
I scoff, taking another drink. “She’d say that too. I used to look at other kids’ mums in the playground at drop-off and think, why doesn’t my mum smile like the others? Why was her life so fucking hard and the others seemed to have this easy life?” I drink again. “And yah know what I realised when I grew up? She made it harder than it needed to be. She could’ve just worked in a supermarket or a takeout shop. Selling pizza would’ve put food on the table. There were other ways, and she wouldn’t have been so sad about it, but she chose to neglect me and fill her body with drink and drugs. She thought they were worth more than her own son.”
“It’s not easy,” she mutters. “You think it is, but for a single mum, back then, it was hard.”
“And what about now?” I snap. “Did you never think once to sort your shit out and be a mum, a grandmother even?”
She rolls her eyes then knocks back her drink and slams the glass on the table. “She’ll only fuck that kid’s life up?—”
“Like mother, like daughter, eh?” I mutter.
“Exactly.”
I snatch the glass up and head back to the kitchen. I gave her enough to make her drowsy, but I’ll need the rest to make her sleep soundly, so I top the glass up a second time and stir in the tablets. Then I clean the rolling pin and the glass I used to crush the powder up. I wipe the worktop then take the drink back into the living room, where Luna’s mum now looks a little sleepier. She squints at me, blinking a few times. “You might think I’m a crap mum?—”
