It hurt to think about it. A peculiar feeling fluttered low in my stomach when I remembered Reece’s lips. I rolled onto my side and curled my body around the frayed comforter. I squeezed my eyes shut and dreamed.
I woke to the sound of a man’s voice. Strange, because Mona never brought men home. I blinked, trying to place it in the dark, and bolted upright in bed.
Reece.
I fumbled with the lock and threw open the door.
Reece stood in my living room, his height more pronounced under the low ceiling, his features more severe in the dim light. Mona paced a slow circle around him to shut the door, and then came around his other side, giving him a stern once-over.
She didn’t look at me. Her rhinestone eyes rested squarely on Reece.
“This boy . . .” She drew the word boy into a question. “Says he’s a friend of yours?”
Reece lowered his eyes. Mona’s stare took in all of him.
I swallowed hard.
“I can explain.” My mind reeled for a plausible story. One that might explain why he was standing in my living room.
“Don’t bother. You’re not leaving.” She crossed to the kitchen and slapped her cigarettes against her palm, shaking one loose from the pack.
“Why not?” I’d intended to sound indignant and rebellious, but it came out more like a whine.
“Don’t think for a minute I don’t know what’s going on at school. When the principal cancels after-school activities and sends a letter to all the parents recommending curfews, then I have a damn good reason to keep you home on a Friday night.”
“I’m not going out alone—”
“You’re not going anywhere with him! He reeks of trouble. He came on a motorcycle, which I forbid you to ride!” She drew the collar of her robe higher. “And I know for a fact he has a fake ID.”
Reece wiped his upper lip. My eyes flicked back and forth between the proud angle of my mother’s chin and his downcast face.
Mona tapped her ash and gave him a long, hard look. “Ask him, Nearly. Ask him about his record. Boys like him always have one.” She held her robe shut with one hand and sucked in a drag. “Your father certainly did.”
My eyes cut to Mona’s. They glistened as if that one sentence had turned a lock and loosed a secret. “What are you talking about?”
Reece shuffled, twitchy and uncomfortable. “I should go,” he said quietly.
For the first time I noticed the silk collar under his leather, his buffed boots, his clean shave, and the gel in his mussed hair. He could have texted me. I could have sneaked out and met him down the street, but he came in to meet my mother. And she was the pot calling the kettle too black.
I repeated myself louder. “What do you mean?”
She smoked and didn’t answer, that whispery secret scratching behind her eyes.
Reece opened the door. “It was a bad idea anyway,” he muttered. “I’ll see you Monday.” He slipped out, head down. I turned back to my mother, torn between uncovering my past or fixing my future.
“We’re leaving,” I said.
The ashtray clattered to the floor behind me, scattering filth into the air. I threw open the door, calling Reece’s name over the roar of the bike. My mother’s robe filled the security door as I swung a leg over behind him. I glared at her through the bars and leaned in close, wrapping my arms around his chest. If he was leaving, he was taking me with him.
34
I closed my eyes and rested my helmet between his shoulders, anchoring myself in leather and the smell of his cologne. The rest of the world blurred around me.
He downshifted to a curb and I lifted my head, blinded by the light on Gena’s front porch. I unwound myself from Reece’s waist and unfastened the helmet, waiting for him to lead the way.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” He scratched the back of his head and looked at me sideways, abashed for some reason I couldn’t figure out. He hadn’t done anything wrong.
“She shouldn’t have said those things.”
“She’s your mom. She cares about you.”
I perched on the edge of the curb and shoved the helmet into his hands. “She’s an overprotective hypocrite—” “At least you have one.” He looked at me with a sadness that felt transparent and locked me out at the same time. “Where’s your mom?” His secrets felt so close, just under the skin. I wanted to reach out and touch them, even the ugly ones.
He stared at the pavement, slow to answer. “I took something from her. She won’t see me anymore.”
I thought about Mona, my fingers in her tip jar. How balance could be found in something as simple as a chipped mug on Mother’s Day. Even after our fight tonight, I’d go home and wait up for her. “Can you give back what you took? Try to make it right?”
His eyes lifted to mine. “I’m trying,” he whispered. We both jumped as a door creaked open and Gena poked her head out. I took a guilty step back from Reece. She rolled her eyes and slammed it again.
“Are you coming in?” I crossed my arms over my chest. Everything about me felt inadequate, standing in front of Gena’s house.
“I’ve got something I need to do before the rave. Gena’ll take good care of you while I’m gone.” He took both porch steps in one long stride and rapped on the door.
“Gone?” Suddenly the thought of being alone with Gena dropped my stomach into my shoes. “You’re leaving me here? But—”
“Relax.” He knocked again, looking me up and down with a wry smile. “You need to lose that shirt. I’ll be back to pick you up in two hours.”
“Two hours? I don’t need two hours to change my shirt!” The door opened. Gena scrutinized me, blinking slowly, nails tapping her hip. “Oh, sweetheart. We’re going to do a hell of a lot more than change your shirt.” She grabbed me by the collar and dragged me over the threshold.
Reece chuckled softly as the door slammed shut.
Gena ushered me down the hall.
“Bathroom. Second door on the right. Hot water’s on the left. Towels are under the sink.”
Cold fingers brushed my ankle and slid up my calf, Gena’s smoky skepticism raising goose bumps on my skin.
I rounded on her. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“I might as well be filing my nails, girlie. You need to shave those legs. There’s a disposable razor in the medicine cabinet.” She mumbled something in Spanish and I was grateful
I didn’t understand a word of it. “Pits too!” she called out as I slammed the bathroom door in her face.