Bulletproof (24 page)

“Where is Pop?” I eased my fingers out of her grasp and looked behind me.

“He gone to collect the grandbabies. The little terrorists are spending the night. Lord, help me.”

I chuckled. She could only be talking about Morris’s kids, the Three Stooges, and the biggest troublemakers this world had ever seen.

“Well, good luck with that. I might split before I get caught in their tornado.” I stood from the couch, straightening my shirt.

“Sean, please listen good now.” Her voice and gaze were so earnest, I couldn’t do anything but follow her command. “Your career could rise or fall any day. You in the entertainment business and there ain’t no guarantees, but you fight for your woman, and she will be there for the rest of your life, no matter what job you have.”

I swallowed, bereft of words as I gazed down at the woman who’d raised me, showered me with unconditional love, and coached me through life...was still coaching me through life. Her words rang with a truth that was impossible to ignore.

I thought back to the contract on Rhonda’s desk, questions and arguments warring within me. My mind flashed with images of accepting an award on stage...and having no one to dedicate my speech to.

“Thanks, Mama.” I bent down to kiss her cheek and skipped out before she could say any more.

I felt heavy, weighted down by life-changing decisions I didn’t want to make.

If only there was a way I could have it all.

But I knew I couldn’t. Sacrifices needed to be made, and now I had to decide which ones I was willing to live with.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

MORGAN

It was nearing midnight by the time I pulled onto the Strip. I had no idea if my mother still worked at the Tropicana, but it was a starting point.

Glancing at the car clock, I cringed. Did I really have the energy to go hunting tonight? I was being held together by caffeine and terror. I knew sleep would be impossible, but if I wanted to function when I found her, I did need to rest.

Pulling into the Tropicana, I grabbed my purse and headed for the lobby. My fingers wouldn’t stop trembling, and I’m sure the lady at check-in noticed, especially after she told me exactly which lounge Roxanne Rivera sang in. I couldn’t believe she’d stayed in the same place for so long.

The receptionist put me up in one of the cheapest rooms. I didn’t need much. As soon as I saw my mother and said my piece, I was out of here anyway.

Pushing the keycard into the door, I dumped on the round table the cheap Las Vegas T-shirt and yoga pants I’d just purchased, and walked to the window. The lights were bright and dazzling, the city alive no matter what the hour. I should have been out in it, walking the Strip and soaking in the atmosphere.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I let my mind wander back to Derek’s office and his fingers touching me. Nausea swirled in my stomach, making me lurch for the bathroom. I clung to the bowl and let the endless cups of coffee spill out of me, filling the bowl with a brown stench that made me want to retch all over again. I clung to the porcelain, resting my head against it as those dry, heaving sobs punched out of my chest.

How had it come to this?

Sniffing, I pushed myself up, grabbing a glass of water and trying to swill the filth out of my mouth. Turning for the shower, I pushed the spray to scalding as I shakily wrenched off my work clothes. I knew I couldn’t wash away my mistakes, but I wanted to. I wanted to scrub my skin until every finger and tongue that had every touched me was wiped away. I wanted to be clean, fresh, untainted...new.

*****

I didn’t feel fresh or new as I sat in the lounge bar. My finger tapped my arm as I waited for the singer to come on stage. She was doing an afternoon shift, singing a little jazz to entertain the drinkers who were taking a break from whatever table they’d thrown their money onto.

I had barely slept. My eyes felt gritty and sore. My skin was still raw and pink from my burning shower. My frantic sudsing had done nothing to dispel the malaise roiling within me.

I felt so far from inner peace it was almost comical.

Trying to sound upbeat on the phone as I lied to Dad about my whereabouts was nearly impossible. I couldn’t believe he bought it. As if Derek would ask me to do a business trip to San Diego. The guy barely had enough clients to stay afloat, but Dad didn’t need to know that...and he certainly didn’t need the truth, either.

He’d tried so hard never to criticize Mom in front of us, but I could see it. She’d cut him, butchered him, and he’d never recovered. It had been eight years, and I’d never seen him go on one date. The guy had dedicated himself to his work and us girls. That was the only thing that had gotten him through.

“Hello, everyone.”

A tendon in my neck pinged tight at my mother’s husky voice. She introduced herself and then began to sing “Come Away With Me” by Norah Jones, her sultry sound rising over the small audience. It was unfortunately beautiful. I wanted her to suck. I wanted the audience to be hissing at her, throwing rotten tomatoes, not smiling and nodding at the pure tone that stretched across the room and nestled inside me.

I closed my arms, pinching my biceps until they hurt.

That sound was so familiar. She used to sing me to sleep as a child, brushing the locks of hair off my face, her sad voice covering me.

She still looked the same as I remembered, maybe a touch older...and thinner. Definitely more glamorous. Her thick makeup was hiding her wrinkles, her fake lashes making her eyes large and bright. They were turquoise and vibrant, just like Jody’s. The sequined dress she wore fit her perfectly, highlighting her curves in all the right places. She was obviously going for an elegant lady from the fifties. All she needed was a white dress and an air vent, and she’d be Marilyn Monroe.

She’d probably love it if she knew I was thinking that.

Air shot through my nose as the urge to run skittered down my legs. I dug my heels into the carpet and made myself stay.

It took thirty minutes for her to finish her set. I was a shaking wreck as I rose from the table and approached the stage. She didn’t see me coming. Her back was to me as she chatted with the pianist.

“Roxanne.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her body going still.

I held my breath as I waited for her to fully turn and face me. Eventually she spun, a soft smile growing on her lips. Holy crap, I was staring at an older version of Jody. It stole my breath for a second.

Her vibrant gaze traveled over me, her brow wrinkling at my Vegas sweats and high heels. I didn’t have it in me to put my work clothes back on. They were currently shoved into a waste paper basket in my hotel room, never to be worn again.

My mom blinked at tears as she stepped down from the stage.

“Morgan.” She reached out for me, her arms stretched wide.

I moved out of her way and folded my arms across my chest.

She bobbed her head and gave me an understanding smile.

“Do you want to sit?” She pointed to a table behind me.

“No, I’m not staying long.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you...to tell you—” I swallowed.

“Tell me what?” she asked after my pregnant pause.

I licked my bottom lip, my angry words sitting in my mouth and just not going anywhere. Why couldn’t I unleash my fury? She deserved it! Tears stung my eyes, no doubt brought on by her gushy expression.

I frowned, ordering them away. Lifting my chin, I gazed down at my mother and opened my mouth.

“How could you do it? Just walk away like that; do you have no soul?”

Her face crumpled, her rosebud lips disappearing as she bit them together. Placing her arm gently on my elbow, she guided me to a corner of the room, behind the grand piano.

I flicked her off me and stared down at her, impatiently waiting for my explanation.

“I couldn’t stay, Mister; it was killing me.”

Mister. The only person in the world to ever call me that. My middle name was the same as hers, Roxanne, making my initials MR...mister. She’d thought it was a very smart and funny nickname; I had too, until she left and I banned anyone from ever calling me that again.

“I was going to bed at night and wishing I wouldn’t wake up in the morning, because I didn’t think I could live through another day.” She wrung her hands. “And it wasn’t you or Jody or your dad. I just...” She pointed at her chest. “I couldn’t do it anymore. I’d given up my dream to mother you and I just...ran out of steam.”

She shrugged as if her explanation was enough.

“Ran out of steam? You selfish bitch!” I wanted to slap her then, crack my palm right across her face, but heads turned our way, and I didn’t want to be escorted out of here before she’d heard me out. “You turned me into a mother at the age of fourteen! Sacrifice? I had to give up everything to look after Jody and Dad while you swanned off here to make your dreams come true. You know what happened to my dreams?” My voice hitched. “They ended up in the gutter, and now I’ve just quit my second job this year, I have no life, no boyfriend, and I hate myself...and it’s your fault. You turned me into this. You walked out on a family who needed you!”

“Hey, I waited, okay. I waited until I knew you could handle it, and it’s not like I didn’t tell you guys where I was. You could’ve come and gotten me, tried to win me back.”

I scoffed, pressing my fingers into my forehead and wanting to scream.

“You were the adult. You were the one who was supposed to look after us! Don’t put your shit on me. Win you back? Why would we? You left us!”

My final shout silenced the bar. I didn’t care. I didn’t care if every eye in the room was gazing across that piano. Shouldn’t they know who was singing for them? She wasn’t some sweet-faced angel with a voice like heaven. She was a turncoat traitor who had walked out on her husband and kids. Left them high and dry so she could sing in some sleazy bar.

“I know it was selfish,” she said quietly. “I really have no good excuses for what I did. I just decided that it was time for me to start looking after myself.” She nibbled on her lip. “You know, your dad was a really good man, but I don’t think we would have married if we hadn’t had you. I just saw your face and knew I needed to love you and feed you...until you could look after yourself.”

“I was fourteen,” I whispered brokenly.

“You’ve always been strong and confident, looking after those around you. You were a better mother than I could ever be. You remember what chaos our house used to be in. It used to drive you crazy.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Sometimes it did, but I would have taken chaos every day of the week over the silence, the emptiness that followed your departure. I tried to do a good job.” I cleared my throat. “But I failed. I failed Jody...I failed myself.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” She gave me a kind smile.

I wanted to tell her that Jody was pregnant, that she was turning into her, but I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t let that happen. Jody had me. That was the difference, and there was no way in hell I was abandoning her, no matter what she wanted to do with her baby.

Mom rubbed her arm, playing with the sequins on her dress sleeve as she smiled at me.

“You still dancing?”

My jaw clenched as I shook my head. “I gave that up when you left. There was no time to pursue it.”

Her brows bunched together and she looked to the floor. “I was hoping you’d apply for that high school.”

I shook my head.

“I used to love watching you, Mister. I lived for your performances; they were like a light in the darkness.”

“Obviously not a very bright one.”

She looked hurt by my sarcastic reply, and I didn’t want to care, but it stung. My words, her expression. I turned away from it.

“You used to light up the stage. You know how there’s always one dancer you can’t take your eyes off. That was you.” She pointed at me. “You were that girl.” Her eyes grew distant as if reliving one of my recitals. “It was the only time you’d ever really let your emotions show. It’s like you gifted a part of your soul to the audience when you danced. It always brought tears to my eyes.”

My throat clogged, the lump too big to swallow.

“I don’t expect you to ever forgive what I did to you. I know I don’t deserve it.” Her smile was sad. “But I hate the idea that my betrayal would stop you from doing something you loved. I know what it’s like to try living a lie. It makes you do things you’re not proud of.” She blinked at tears. “Please, Morgan, don’t give up your dreams. Don’t let hurt and anger and bitterness hold you back anymore. You have to let go.”

She reached for my hand, and for some bizarre reason, I let her take it.

“No matter what you become or where you end up in life, never stop dancing. It’s who you are.”

My hand felt limp within hers, but I forced my fingers to squeeze back. “I forgive you,” I whispered. “I don’t feel like it right this second, but you’re right. I need to let go. I need to be free...of you. So I forgive you, and I’ll keep saying it, every day, until I believe it. Because you cannot own me anymore.”

Her expression held a mixture of pride and shame. As much as I didn’t want her to be, she was my mother. Her genes inspired my dancing and Jody’s singing. She’d given me this precious gift that in the past had given me so much joy. I’d let her steal it. I’d given her the power, and it was time to take it back.

“Goodbye, Mom.” I leaned forward and kissed her cheek, walking away before she could say anything more.

As I stepped out of the darkness and into the sunlight, I felt it...a stirring in my soul. Like a quiet calm was meandering through my being, telling me it was going to be okay. It was a far cry from inner peace, but it was there, it was new...and I felt like it could grow.