Unworthy Heart: The Donnellys, Book 1 (13 page)

Because they weren’t sleeping.

From the living room another cough echoed into the kitchen—not unusual, considering her mother’s emphysema—then another sneeze, followed by more coughing. Which sounded a little too moist for Maiya’s liking. The woman struggled to breathe as it was because the COPD had gotten so bad, plus her liver wasn’t functioning very well. The last thing her mother needed was bronchitis, or worse, pneumonia. Maiya glanced over her shoulder from the counter. “Mommy, that cough isn’t sounding good.”

“It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

“I’ll dig out the nebulizer before I go. Can’t have it getting any worse.” Maiya wandered to the living room. Glancing at the side table next to her mother’s chair, she saw the many crumpled tissues.

“I hate that thing. It makes me all shaky.”

“Got news for ya, Mom. It’s not the breathing machine making you all shaky.”

“All right, Miss Bigwig-Corporate-Girl, what’s it from?”

Maiya bit her tongue, shaking her head. “Never mind.” There was no point going there. It was like trying to explain to a fish what water was. Instead, she gathered up the empty glasses and snotty tissues on the end table. She didn’t miss the yellowed hue in the whites of her mother’s eyes. “You want a turkey sandwich?”

“That’s fine.” Joanie coughed a few more times before finally catching her breath.

Maiya grabbed a glass of water and brought it to her. “Here, Mom.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s water. Please drink it.”

“I don’t need that, I have my drink right here.”

“Take it anyway.” Maiya set the glass on the end table and then walked back to the kitchen. Her mother grumbled something about her always being a pain in the ass, but Maiya ignored it and made her mother lunch.

Loading the plate on a tray, she brought it into the living room and then set it on her mother’s lap. “There you go. I got some of those chocolate-striped cookies you like so much. You can have those later after dinner.”

Maiya walked away to open the remaining windows. Her mother’s wet cough echoed through the trailer. That damn minor cold was probably full-blown bronchitis already. She went back into the living room and sat on the couch. “Mom, I really think you should do a breathing treatment when you finish your sandwich, and try to lay off the smokes today too.”

Joanie looked up from her plate, mouth full of food. “I’m fine.”

“You need to get this cold under control now or you’re going to end up in the damn hospital,” she chastised. “And we know how much you love that. You can’t drink there.”

“Watch your tone, and don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. I said I was fine!” Joanie coughed again and then swallowed the remains of her drink. “Last I checked I was still your mother and you were still my kid.”

“Have it your way, Mom.” Maiya sighed. “I’m only trying to help you.”

“If you want to help me, get your fat ass off that couch and refill my gin and tonic.”

Maiya stared at the television, red coating her vision, and bit her tongue again. She needed to shut up and allow the nasty insult to fall flat in the middle of the room. What she wanted to do instead was tell her mother to kiss her “fat ass” and then hand her the whole bottle of booze.
Be a good daughter.
Be a good daughter. Be a good daughter. Be a good daughter.
When her temper cooled she was able to speak again. “You have an appointment next week with your doctor.” Maiya glanced at her. “They want to do blood work for your liver.”

Her mother put the sandwich down, moved the tray and stood. “I’ll get my own damn drink.”

“Oh my God, look at your stomach!” Maiya jumped up. “You’re all bloated.” She touched her mother’s abdomen with her fingertips. “It’s hard too.”

Joanie swatted her hand away and pulled her royal blue threadbare sweater closed. “I’m fine. I’m old, my belly’s chubby. It happens.”

Still shocked at her mother’s appearance, Maiya’s feet were rooted to the shag carpet in the living room. How had she missed this? Though, to be fair, she rarely saw her up and mobile when she was there. Her mom stayed in that damn orange-striped chair while Maiya moved around her, fixing her a meal and tidying up the trailer. “You should see the doctor sooner. I’m calling.”

Joanie glared over her shoulder. “Don’t you dare. I’m fine, and I’ll be the same in two weeks time.” She returned, drink in hand, and sat in her chair. “Don’t get yourself all in a lather.”

“But—” Maiya shut her mouth, pressing her lips together. Turning, she sat on the couch again. “Fine.”

“So, who’s the new flavor of the month?” Joanie sipped her drink.

“Wha…” Maiya frowned. “What makes you think there’s a flavor of the month?”

“Because you’re
my
daughter.” Joanie snorted. “You got a look about you like you been laid recently. I can always tell when you have.”

“God, Mom. Do you have to be so damn crass?”

“Crass? Do you have to be so damn sensitive? I know what I see is all.” Joanie shrugged and bit into the remaining piece of her turkey sandwich. “So who is he?”

“I’m not talking to you about this.”

“You think you would’ve learned something by now.” She shook her head. “He another biker?”

“No, he’s not another biker. And he isn’t a flavor of the month, either.” Maiya scowled, ran her fingers through her hair and blew out a breath. Was it getting hot in there? She was sweating. And dammit, her mother always set her on edge. Jesus, she needed to get out of there; her anxiety level was on maximum overdrive.

“Something more?” Her mother raised her brows. “You think he might be more, Emmie?”

“No—Yes… I don’t know!” Maiya shook her head, agitated. “Why do you care?”

“What? A mother can’t ask about her daughter’s love life?”

“Not
my
mother.” Maiya crossed her arms. “You’re more interested in telling me how I’ll be alone forever.”

“Only because you push everyone away who comes near you.” Joanie set the drink on the side table. “You been pushing me away for years.” She started coughing and grabbed a tissue, pressing it to her lips.

“I push you away? Oh that’s rich.” Her mother coughed and coughed—the rattle erupting from her lungs sounded horrid, but Maiya pressed on. “You’ve been pushing me away since Je—”

“Don’t!” Joanie sputtered between coughs. “Don’t say his name.” She coughed a few more times, fanning herself with the tissue.

“You sound horrible, Mom. You’re doing a treatment right now.” Maiya retrieved the nebulizer and medicine for it. When she returned, she loaded it with the steroid and then fixed the mask over her mother’s mouth and nose.

Joanie sat back, eyes closed and breathed in the vaporized medicine. While the machine did its job, Maiya busied herself preparing a meal for her mother to have for dinner. When the treatment was done, she cleaned and put the machine away.

Joanie had settled in her chair and appeared to be napping. Maiya covered her with a blanket and then smoothed her mother’s hair from her forehead. Her coloring looked a little off too. It worried Maiya, more than she wanted it to. She kissed her mother’s cheek. “Get some rest, Mom. I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

Joanie nodded but didn’t open her eyes.

When Maiya got in her car she waited there for a few minutes, trying to quell the fear tightening her chest. She pressed her forehead against the steering wheel and her tears fell. She loved her mother, she did. But she didn’t like her. And sometimes she hated her, though she’d never say it out loud. At least not anymore. Years ago, she had no qualms about telling people how she hated her mother. And it didn’t matter to her that they looked at her with horror and pity their eyes.

People didn’t hate their mothers; it was considered unnatural.

Wiping her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, Maiya pulled away from the trailer. She’d go back in a couple of days. Her mother managed okay without her there every day still, but soon enough Maiya would have to go daily. Then she’d insist on bringing in a care person for a couple of hours a day. Maiya was smart enough to know she wouldn’t be a good caretaker. It wouldn’t be healthy for her or her mother.

Ryan occupied her thoughts while she drove the rest of the way home. Was he going to be another flavor of the month? She wasn’t sure. She had the sneaking suspicion she wanted more than a month, but she wouldn’t admit it. Even to herself. And then there was his little boy.

Ryan didn’t want to confuse his son. She couldn’t blame him. It scared her, the prospect of being in his life. In both their lives. Fairytales didn’t come true in real life, not the happily-ever-after kind anyway. People made their own happiness, rescued themselves, like she’d done. Ryan was not her Prince Charming. He was a single dad with a darling child.

A normal. Nice. Guy.

And Maiya had no idea what the hell he wanted with her.

Chapter Twenty

Ryan made his way up the front walkway to his parents’ house with Jacob half asleep in his arms. The door opened before he reached it, and his brother stood behind the metal security door.

“What up, my brotha?” Jimmy’s mouth spread into a goofy smile. His jet-black hair was a spiky mess and in desperate need of a trim. Their dad always gave him shit for it when Jimmy was in town.

Ryan laughed. “Same old, same old. Now open the damn door, would you?”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” Jimmy opened the door and stepped to the side.

Jacob raised his head and let out a loud yawn. “Hi, Uncle Jimmy.”

“What’s up, little man? C’mere, let me get a look at you.” Jimmy took Jacob into his arms for a hug.

Ryan squeezed his brother’s shoulder and walked to the kitchen. “Hey, Mom.” He kissed her cheek. “Where’s Dad?”

“Out back.” Roseanne tossed a salad for dinner. “Jimmy have Jacob?”

“Yup. You look pretty today.” He leaned against the counter next to her, admiring how young she still looked, her short blonde hair done to perfection.

Her hazel eyes sparkled and she smiled. “Thank you. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. Now, get out of my kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He snagged a slice of cucumber off the cutting board on his way past. Laughing, she swatted his hand away.

Ryan found Jacob in the bedroom his parents kept for their grandkids, showing Jimmy his new set of Matchbox cars and track. Ryan took a seat on the bed and observed while Jacob giggled with excitement each time a car made a successful lap and didn’t fall off.

Jimmy didn’t appear to be someone great with kids. The man was over six feet tall, slender, with their father’s darker features. Plus tattoos and piercings galore. He looked more like someone to steer clear of in a dark alley than a potential babysitter.

“I’ve never seen a track this cool before. You’re pretty lucky, little man.” Jimmy pulled Jacob into his lap and let out a mock groan. “My gosh, you’re getting too big. I can hardly believe it. Let me see your muscles.”

Jacob flexed his little arm when his uncle circled it with his hand. “Daddy says I gots manly man arms.” A proud smile stretched from ear to ear. “I’m strong.”

“Whoa. You
are
strong. Promise you won’t beat me up?” Jimmy asked with wide eyes.

Jacob hugged him. “You’re silly, Uncle Jimmy.”

Jimmy looked at Ryan and flashed him a wide grin. “All right, little man, let me up. I need to give a proper hello to your daddy.”

“I’m gonna go find Papa.” Jacob ran out of the room.

Jimmy got to his feet and clasped fists with Ryan. “How ya been, man?”

They pulled each other into an embrace. Slaps on the back included. “Great. Things are great.” Ryan stepped back from him. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were coming into town?”

“You sound like a chickie.”

“Whatever, dude.” Ryan laughed. “I didn’t think we’d see you until the holidays.”

“I had to settle some business. I’m working a deal for some of my stuff to be used in this new swank hotel in Hollywood.”

“No kidding? That’s awesome.” Ryan clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re kicking ass. Congratulations, bro.”

“Thanks. Sometimes I can’t believe these crazy people want to display my funky industrial art on their walls.” He shrugged. “Fuck it. It’s their money, right? I’ll take it.”

“Don’t ask me, I have no eye for artsy stuff. You know that.” He turned toward the door. “Let’s get a beer and find Dad.”

“Reading my mind, Ry.”

They settled on the back patio, a beer in hand, and watched their father help Jacob knock around a plastic golf ball. Jimmy leaned back in his seat, crossed his long legs at the ankle and looked at Ryan. His hazel eyes flashed with something akin to mischief in them.

“Uh oh. You look like the cat who ate the canary.” Ryan tipped back his beer.

Jimmy wagged his brows. “Wanna go to Vegas tonight?”

“Dude, you’re nuts.”

“I don’t like the sounds coming from both of you,” their father called over to them.

“Wha—” Ryan leaned forward. “It’s him, Dad. You know he’s the trouble maker.”

“I know you’re both the trouble makers,” Joseph Sr. said, then focused back on Jacob.

“Come on, Mom and Dad will watch Jacob. We can fly in tonight and back out tomorrow morning,” Jimmy whispered.

Ryan shook his head. “I dunno, man. I can’t just do that kind of thing, you know that.” He took a swig of beer.

“Yeah, yeah I know. But hey, when was the last time we got to hang out? I’m asking Mom.”

“Why do I feel like I’m sixteen again?” Ryan chuckled. “Fine, go ask her.”

Jimmy stood. “Shit, sixteen? I think twenty-one is better.”

“Right, so we can both drink legally
and
be prosecuted as adults in a court of law?”

“You got it.” Jimmy gave him a thumb’s-up and walked in the house. “Hey, Mom?”

Vegas? He could handle some Vegas right now. Blowing off some steam with his brother might be just what he needed. Ryan leaned back in the chair and mulled it over. Realization barreled through his mind.
Maiya.
Maiya lived in Vegas. Ryan rushed into the kitchen to help butter Mom up. When he got inside, Jimmy had already charmed—bribed—her to take Jacob for tonight and tomorrow.

His brother had a smile that got him whatever he wanted, and if it didn’t, he found a way to get what he wanted anyway. Out of all the boys, Jimmy was the silver-tongued devil of the Donnelly family; considering his tongue was now pierced the label was never truer. Ryan searched his mother’s face wanting to be sure she was really on board with this. “Are you sure, Mom?”

“It’s fine.” She kissed his cheek. “Go have some fun with your brother.”

“Told you she’d do it,” Jimmy gloated. “Ooh, Mom. This looks delicious.”

“Thank you, James. You two are on cleanup.” She winked and moved the platter of pot roast and vegetables to the table. “Someone call your father and Jacob to the table, please.”

Neither one was a request, even if she did say “please”. When Roseanne Donnelly told her kids to do something, they did it. The woman had raised ten of them and not one dared to defy her, even now. Excitement bounced through Ryan, and he exchanged a grin with Jimmy.

Talk about feeling like kids again.

It’d been a long day and all Maiya wanted to do was curl up on the couch with a movie. She stared at her phone several times, even picked it up once or twice to text Ryan. But in the end, she decided to leave it alone. If he really wanted to talk, he’d contact her.

Her phone buzzed and she grabbed it up so fast she almost flung it across the room. “Shit.” She checked the text.

Heather:
You home?

Maiya:
Watching TV. You?

Heather:
Get off the couch. Let’s go shake our asses at the club.

Maiya:
I’m too tired.

Maiya curled her feet under her and the phone buzzed again.

Heather:
Maiya, come on. You’re only 29. Live a little. Get your lazy ass up and meet me at the club. It’s freak night.

Maiya:
Fuck’s sake, Heather. Leave my ass out of this! What time?

Heather
: YAY! Ten. I’ll meet you at the back bar.

Maiya:
Fine. See ya there.

Tossing her phone on the couch, Maiya blew out a breath. So much for a quiet night at home. At least she’d work out some stress on the dance floor. A few drinks would be nice too. Plus, Heather, and any drama following her, would make for a great distraction.

She dragged her worn-out ass off the couch and made her way to the bathroom. Time to do her hair, and since it’d dried all pulled up in a scrunchie, she needed to wet it and dry it and curl it and… Oh hell. What was she thinking? Baseball cap. Jeans. Done.

An hour later, Maiya pulled into the parking lot behind the club, finding a spot in the far back. She checked her lips in the mirror and then gathered all the essentials. Walking around to the front of the large, two-story building, she glanced at the club’s twenty-foot pink neon sign. It flickered in spots, but was pretty against the star-filled Vegas sky.

Tangled was located about five miles off The Strip. Each night was a different theme, and tonight was Freak Night—one of her favorite nights to go dancing there. Freak night meant any local goth, metal head, patchouli-wearing, hookah-smoking, Harley-riding, tattooed or pierced freak within a twenty mile radius showed up—a melting pot of anyone who ever rebelled against societal norms, and even those who didn’t. College boys and girls—pretty boys and girls, as she liked to call them—mixed in the fray with the dropouts, blue-collar workers and day laborers. And the DJ played anything from Nine Inch Nails to Yaz.

It was cool, and what made it even cooler was her choice of dress on these nights: Jeans, tank top, work boots or Chucks, and always her cap. Tonight she wore a low-cut, white cotton ribbed tank with a black bra, faded blue jeans and her black work boots. Simple and comfy.

Maiya bypassed the long line in her usual fashion and headed for the door of the club. When she stepped in front of the head bouncer, he pulled her into a hug. She gave him a squeeze. “Hiya, Jay. Good to see you, hon.”

Jay was a six-foot-five, two-hundred-and-fifty pound, muscle-bound black man. But to her, he was a teddy bear who gave awesome hugs. The man had a smile genuine enough to light up every heart on The Strip, coupled with gorgeous deep-brown eyes. He’d make some lucky girl a happy woman one day, if he ever managed to stop playing with the clientele.

“Always a pleasure, sweetness. Go on in, the door’s always open for you, gorgeous.”

“Aw, thanks, honey. You’re too good to me.” She kissed his cheek and walked inside.

The first thing to hit Maiya was the sweet smell of vapor from the fog machine. They had multiple smoke eaters and a vaulted ceiling so there was only a slight lingering of cigarette smoke. She smoked, but she didn’t want to bathe in it. Most times she took her smoke breaks on the outdoor terrace running along the side of the building on the second floor.

Tangled had a Victorian goth meets industrial steel feel to it—dark and easy for her to lose herself deep within the beat of the music, drinks and the movement of the bodies around her. Perfect.

Maiya walked around the edge of the large oval dance floor toward the back bar with a smile. She was glad she’d come. Being in the club was better than sitting home waiting for her phone to ring. A few friends nodded their greetings. Among them a former bedmate or two. Maybe she’d take one home tonight. Maiya groaned. The idea soured before she could fully consider it. And Ryan was the reason.

Ryan wasn’t her man, and he sure as hell hadn’t made any claim on her. Glancing around the crowd, she sighed. Maiya was free to do as she pleased. So why did the thought of letting another man touch her make her want to hurk up her dinner? Brushing off the feeling, Maiya tossed Eric, the head bartender, her credit card.

Eric propped his elbows on the bar top. “How ya doin’, sexy?”

“I’m fucking fabulous. Vodka cranberry?” Stretching over the bar top, she gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Coming right up. Heather’s here. She said tell you she’d be right back.”

Maiya smiled. “Fucking fabulous.”

He laughed and slid the drink her way. “Here you go. This one’s on me.”

“Triple fucking fabulous.” She sipped the cocktail through the straw. “Everything will be fucking fabulous tonight because I deem it so.”

“Anything you say, Maiya.” He shook his head. “Crazy girl. Lookin’ hot tonight.”

She tipped her hat. “Fabulous, I’m looking fucking fabulous, Eric.”

“That too, sexy. That too.”

She faced the dance floor and waited for Heather to come back from wherever she’d gone off to. Type O Negative’s cover of “Cinnamon Girl” came on and Maiya set her drink on the bar. “Eric, I’m dancing. Tell Heather, yeah?”

He gave her a nod and she walked to the dance floor. A minute later Heather was next to her. Maiya pulled the brim of her hat low and got down to business. Moving in time with Peter Steele’s deep voice, she let her stress fly free. The tension in her shoulders eased a bit. She loved to dance, and she needed to lose herself for a little while. The fog blasted from overhead and the corners of the floor. White mist rolled between the crowds, creating the illusion of separation.

And then she was lost to the music.