Wasted (11 page)

“
You asked me what I wanted
to know.”

“
Who goes around asking
people if they love their mother?”

“
It does sound a little
strange when you put it like that.”

“
Hell, yeah, it sounds
strange.”

The corners of her mouth tilted down in a
frown, and I wondered if I’d hurt her feelings.

“
Yes,” I said, feeling a
little bit of my manhood slip away as I caved to her queries. “I do
love my mother. She makes it damn hard, but despite all the shit
she’s put me and Haley through, I do love her.”

“
What’s she
done?”

“
I told you that you didn’t
get to earn all my story at once. That’s all you get—unless you
want to put in another quarter.”

I challenged her, fully expecting her to
retreat to her bedroom and leave me the hell alone.

“
You want another kiss?”
she asked, her voice so quiet I could barely hear her. When I
looked at her, she averted her gaze, her lap suddenly requiring her
full attention.

“
No.”

Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked
up at me. “Then what?”

“
If you want to know about
my mother, then you have to tell me about yours.”

“
You want to know
about
my
mother?”
she asked, her face scrunched in confusion.

“
Seems like a fair trade,
don’t you think?”

“
I guess so. I’m just
surprised.”

“
Why would you be
surprised? I’m a helluva better listener than I am a storyteller.
That’s what I’m good at—pretending like I’m interested in what
people are saying.”

She scrambled from the bed and shot across
the room. “Where are you going?”

“
Anywhere but
here.”

“
Why?”

“
You don’t need to
pretend
that you’re
interested in anything I have to say because I’ve got nothing to
say to you.”

“
Shit, Lex. I didn’t mean
it like that.”

“
It’s obvious that you
don’t want to talk to me. Maybe you’re a lot like your mother.
Maybe you’re a hard person to love, too.”

The bedroom door slammed hard enough to
rattle the knob. If I’d had pictures on the wall, I imagined they’d
be kissing the carpet about now.

My hands curled into fists, and the same old
feelings of frustration burned through my body. Had I
subconsciously sabotaged our conversation?

Closing my eyes, I exhaled loudly. I was a
prick—a terrified-shitless, hard-to-love, too-much-like-my-mother
prick.

Chapter
9

Painkiller

Mason

During the rest of the week, Lexi and I
barely spoke. I knew it was better that way. If we could make it
through three more months, she’d be moving off to her own apartment
anyway. And even though I needed the money, it would be easier for
both of us once she moved out. I’d never had a female roommate
before, and I never wanted one again. It was much easier to live
with another guy. That way, I could do whatever the hell I wanted,
and so could he—with none of the complications women always seemed
to infuse in any given situation.

Lexi had been waiting tables all week. She
usually left the bar before I did, and by the time I got home, she
was locked away safely in her room, taking no chances of having any
contact with me.

As I finished my closing duties for the bar
area, Spanky approached me. “What’s up, boss man?”

He waddled over to a stool at the bar and,
with some effort, managed to climb onto it. “The usual. Staying
busy.”

“
Busy is good. You want
something to drink?”

“
A little bit of water
would be good.”

I grabbed a glass, filled it with ice and
water, and set it in front of Spanky.

After taking a long sip, he wiped his mouth
with the back of his hand. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“
Shoot.”

“
I’ve got a buyer,
Mason.”

“
Already? If you can just
give me a little more time, I’ll find some way to come up with the
money.”

“
You’ve been with me since
you were a kid. I can remember you walking through that door
begging for a job like it was yesterday.” His eyes danced with the
memories as he rubbed his bald head with short, stubby fingers.
“Hell, you’re still a kid, and you know I love you like a son. But
I’m getting old. I wish I could give you more time, but time’s
something I ain’t got much of. I’m ready to retire to Florida, and
my daughter’s found me a little house down the street from her. I
need the money, so I can buy that house before somebody else
does.”

Closing my eyes, I tried to tamp down the
anger and frustration. Would the freaking planet explode if just
one thing went my way?

“
I’m sorry.” Spanky’s voice
was filled with emotion. Hell, I didn’t want to make him
cry.

I pasted on a smile. “No problem. You win
some. You lose some. Right?”

“
I know this sounds cliché,
but you really do have your whole life ahead of you. There’s plenty
of time for you to save up money and open your own bar or do
whatever it is that you want to do.” His voice sounded hopeful, and
I desperately wished I shared his optimism.

“
Bartending is the only
thing I know. It’s the one thing that I can do well.”

“
Then keep the beer flowing
because one of these days, everything will fall into place, and you
can open your own bar.”

I leaned against the bar, trying to imagine
it. “I hope so.”

Spanky scratched his neck, stretching like a
feline waking from a nap. “It’ll happen.” He hopped down from the
bar stool. “And when it does, I’ll be glad that I don’t own this
bar anymore ‘cause you’d put me out of business. I have no doubt
that letting you tend bar was one of my smarter business
decisions.”

I grinned as I realized that he’d just
manipulated my emotions. “You’re good for my ego. What’ll I do once
you move off?”

Spanky cackled and slapped me affectionately
on the shoulder. “I’m sure you have plenty of lady friends who can
handle stroking your ego.”

As I watched him walk back
to the office, it was one lady friend who came to mind—one that had
perhaps decided that I wasn’t
friend
material.

I could have smoothed
things over. I could have gone to her and explained that it was
just bitterness talking, a defense mechanism meant to prevent me
from having to tell her about my mother—someone who had never even
earned the title,
mother
. Since she was more an
acquaintance than a parent, Haley and I should have called her by
her first name. It would have been more appropriate.

In reality, I wasn’t
just
pretending
to
be interested in what Lexi had to say, I
was
interested. Every time I thought
about the tenderness in her voice the night that I’d been wasted, I
longed to hear it again, to feel her gentle caress, to feel like
someone cared.

I’d had a long-term relationship before, and
I might have shared some of those feelings in the early part of
that relationship, but that had been so long ago that even if I
could conjure those memories, I knew it would feel like a dream,
like wisps of emotions that would slip through my fingers if I
tried to latch onto them. Too much had happened between us, and
anything that we’d once shared had been destroyed by carelessness
and neglect.

That was the very reason that I’d given up
on relationships. If feelings weren’t allowed to develop, then the
hurt and pain of a failed attempt could be avoided. And wasn’t it
better to evade those situations altogether rather than risk losing
everything one held dear? And even worse, having no one to blame
but one’s self?

Fishing my keys from my pocket, I headed to
my apartment.

Darkness greeted me, and I welcomed it. It
matched my disposition.

Flipping on the kitchen light, I quietly
poured a shot of whiskey, turned the light back out, and sat on the
couch, letting the darkness envelop me, both on the inside and the
out.

When a man accomplishes something in life,
it’s satisfying to take a moment to reflect, to be proud of what
he’s done, to think of all the things he’ll do in the future.

But when there aren’t any accomplishments,
it leaves him dreaming of all the couldas, shouldas, and wouldas,
what he could have done if he’d chosen a different path, what he
should have done in certain situations, and what he would have done
if he knew then what he knew now.

But such was life.

I heard her bedroom door open and saw the
shaft of dim light that spilled into the hallway. When she hit the
tiled floor in the kitchen, I heard the soft patter of her bare
feet as she moved to the refrigerator. Humming, she opened the door
and pulled out the container of orange juice.

Gazing across the room, I could see her on
the other side of the bar in her snug-fitting tank top and running
shorts. Her ponytail swayed as she poured some juice into a cup and
replaced the jug in the fridge.

My glass thumped against the end table as I
intentionally set it down harder than necessary, wanting to make my
presence known.

She shrieked and stumbled backwards as her
head snapped in my direction.

“
I didn’t mean to scare
you.”

Her breath came out in a rush. “I didn’t
realize you were home.”

Now that the fridge was closed and the only
source of light was from the other end of the hall, I couldn’t see
her as well. Shadows engulfed her features, and I wondered what she
was feeling.

“
Spanky found a buyer for
the bar,” I said.

“
I know. I heard some of
the other servers talking about it.”

“
Guess I can stop trying to
come up with the money.”

“
You wanted to buy it?” she
asked, surprised.

“
Yeah, but I guess it
doesn’t matter now. I can’t seem to get a loan, anyway.”

“
I’m so sorry,” she said
softly.

I shrugged. “I’m used to
disappointment.”

She walked into the living room, cradling
her cup like it was a warm mug of coffee. “Something else will come
along,” she said.

“
Yeah, I guess.”

She started walking toward the hallway, no
doubt eager to escape my company.

“
Lex?”

Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder.
“Yeah?”

“
My mother’s a prostitute.
That’s the only way she can support her habit.” My laughter held no
humor. “I’ve only told one other person that, although I imagine
some of my friends have suspected over the years.”

She swirled the liquid in her cup, staring
into it like a fortune teller gazing into her crystal ball. “I
pushed you too hard. I’m sorry.”

“
I want to tell you,” I
said, my voice hoarse. I cleared my throat. “If you’re still
willing to listen, I want to tell you my story.”

She didn’t hesitate as she turned and strode
toward me with purpose. Setting her glass on the end table, she
dropped to the cushion beside me, her soft hands cupping mine.

“
I’m listening,
Mason.”

I squeezed her fingers as they curled around
my hands, wanting to immerse myself in the warmth and compassion of
her touch.

“
I can remember my mother
before. Haley can’t, but I can. She changed after my father’s
death. Not right away. She was a good mother when Haley was a baby.
But I guess everything caught up with her eventually.”

“
I’m sure it was hard on
all of y’all,” she said softly.

“
Strange men were always
coming over to our house. I can remember my mother inviting them
into her bedroom and locking the door. We were instructed not to
bother her while the door was closed.

“
It’s strange what people
remember, isn’t it? I can remember hearing her giggle through the
door, and I wondered what was so funny. I remember her always
coming out in her yellow silk robe, walking the men to the front
door. As soon as they left, she’d lock herself back in the
bedroom.”

“
Who watched y’all? Haley
couldn’t have been very old, could she?”

“
I watched out for Haley
the best I could. There was an old woman we called Miss Anne, who
lived next door. When Miss Anne saw us outside, she would usually
bring us some food. Nothing fancy, usually sammiches, as she liked
to call them.”

“
So that’s where you got it
from.”

I smiled as I fondly
remember Miss Anne. “Yeah, it’s strange how it’s the little things
that can make a difference in someone’s life, isn’t it? As crazy as
it sounds, it’s hard for me to say
sammich
and not feel a little better
than I did the moment before.”

“
I guess Miss Anne
unknowingly attached a positive vibe to that word for
you.”

“
I guess she did. Good ole
Miss Anne. I don’t know what me and Haley would’ve done without
her.”

“
Did she know about your
mother?”

“
I’d say she probably did.”
I tried to remember whether Miss Anne had ever said anything that
would make me think she knew, but I couldn’t remember her ever
saying a single bad thing about my mother.