by Reese Ryan
Jamie nodded, her throat tight. “I won’t. I promise.”
“So, how’d you get home?”
“I sort of ran into Ex last night.”
“You were with Xavier? Honey, didn’t we talk about this? That boy is no good for you. Not if you want to start fresh, like you said. He’s only going to drag you down. You know that.”
Jamie tugged a Doc Martens shoe off her foot, grousing internally. It was the same conversation on rewind that they’d been having for the past twenty years. Yeah, sometimes he could be more trouble than he was worth, but the guy was loyal, always good for a laugh and pretty amazing in bed. So maybe he was also the reason she’d been completely lit that horrible night more than a year ago and nearly arrested for stealing as a kid. But he was her friend, and the truth was, she didn’t have many of those.
She wasn’t like Ellie’s two daughters—witty and ridiculously gorgeous like Mimi, or a natural beauty with a self-deprecating sense of humor like Mel. They could make friends as soon as they walked in a room.
But that wasn’t her.
She didn’t like people right away. Instead, she found it much easier to dislike them. Figuring out who was real and who wasn’t was too hard. It was more comfortable to stick with the few people she knew and cared about.
Ellie always said she didn’t keep people at arm’s length. She kept them a football field away. Maybe she was right. But it was safer this way.
“It’s not like I planned it,” she said finally, avoiding Ellie’s stare. “I grabbed a drink at McKinsey’s after work and Ex was there. What was I supposed to do? Pretend like I didn’t see him?”
“Sounds like a good idea to me. Maybe then he’d get the hint.”
“I know you don’t like Ex, but we’ve been friends forever.”
“Maybe if you tried making some new friends...” Ellie sucked in a breath, crossing her arms. “But you’re not going to find them hanging out at bars at three in the morning.”
“I don’t need anyone else. I’ve got you and Mel and Mimi and the boys.” Jamie smiled.
Ellie’s expression softened, but only a little. “You do have us. And we’re always here, even when you need a ride home at four in the morning.”
“I know, but I’m not a little girl anymore. You can’t come riding in to save me whenever things get rough.” She headed into the kitchen with Ellie on her heels.
“But you are my little girl, just as much as Melanie and Michele are. You know that, don’t you?”
Jamie plopped down in a chair at the kitchen table. “I do, and I’m grateful for that. Don’t ever think I don’t know how lucky that makes me.”
A smile spread slowly across the older woman’s face. Her skin glowed and her dark eyes gleamed. She leaned down and kissed the top of Jamie’s head. “I’ll never stop worrying about you.”
“I know.” Jamie smiled at her. “Now, is that baked chicken I smell? Because I’m starving.”
Ellie pulled a glass casserole dish out of the oven and placed it on top of the stove. “Made it just for you. Go wash up, and I’ll fix you a plate.”
* * *
“Jamie, I wish you’d work somewhere besides a bar.” Another ancient argument, one she didn’t feel like having before work.
“I make excellent money and I’m good at it. You know it’s the only thing I do well besides my art.” Jamie took another bite of Ellie’s spinach-and-feta-stuffed chicken.
“Don’t give me that.” Ellie was indignant. “You can do anything you want. You’re a smart girl. Bartending is what you’ve chosen to do.”
Jamie shrugged and shuffled rice on her plate. She was okay with not being as smart as Mel or Mimi, but she didn’t want to talk about it. It reminded her how much she’d let Ellie and Lou down. They’d taken her in and raised her as their own—treating her no different from the girls born to them. She’d repaid them with poor grades and a poorer attitude. Still, they’d never given up on her, no matter what she’d done. Now Lou was gone and she’d never have a chance to show him how much he meant to her. That she’d been worth all the trouble.
The mantle over the fireplace overflowed with sports trophies and academic awards Mel and Mimi had collected over the years. There were exactly three with her name on them—all related to her art.
“I want you to get everything you deserve in life. So stop selling yourself short and promise me you’ll consider going back to school.”
Jamie’s mouth was filled with chicken, but her eyes widened in objection.
“Take something you’re interested in to get started, maybe a few art classes. You’d like that, right?”
She stabbed another piece of chicken and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Good.” Ellie grinned. “I’ve been showing your work to Nazirah Jiménez, the lovely woman who teaches art classes at the senior center. She also teaches at her private studio and gallery. She’s fairly new to the area and she’s looking for some promising local artists to mentor.” Ellie took a card out of her apron pocket and shoved it across the table. “Call her.”
“I appreciate this, I do.” Jamie ran her fingers across the raised lettering of the card, designed in warm, muted earth tones reminiscent of the Southwest. “But I’m busy with work. I don’t know how I’d fit anything else into my schedule right now. Besides, I work in the evenings.”
“The classes are midday, a couple of days a week. They won’t interfere with your work or sleep schedules.” Ellie smiled broadly, hope dripping from her widened eyes. Jamie bit her lip, not responding, so she continued. “I know it can be...intimidating, the thought of going back to school after all these years. This is a wonderful way to start slow, with something you’ll really love.”
Dammit. Jamie blew out a breath in defeat. After all Ellie had done for her, taking an art class with her friend was the very least she could do. “I’ll call her.”
“In that case, I think I’ve got a leftover piece of cheesecake in the fridge for you.” Ellie winked.
Jamie’s eyes lit up. God, she was easy. “With cherries?”
Ellie nodded. “Just the way you like it.”
Jamie finished her plate then went to the fridge and pulled out the cheesecake. She looked at her watch. She needed to leave soon.
Ellie handed her a fork. “When?”
Dammit. Jamie looked up, her mouth stuffed with cheesecake. Ellie Gordon’s gifts of food always came with a little somethin’ extra. “In time for the next class, I guess.”
“Perfect. The next class begins in two weeks.” Ellie’s smile smacked of self-satisfaction, like a cat that had drawn a mouse into a trap.
“There’s no way I can be ready by then. Besides, I’m still fairly new on this job. I can’t afford to lose focus right now.”
“It’s pouring drinks into glasses, honey. How much focus do you need?”
Jamie sucked in a deep breath. No amount of explanation could convince Ellie of the skill that went into memorizing dozens of drink recipes and the art of crafting each one to perfection with a special touch that made customers happy and slightly more generous.
Besides, behind the bar was the only place she really fit in. She chatted up customers night after night, remembering their favorite drinks and the troubles they’d complained about the night before. Behind that bar she was a star, a people person. Without that hunk of wood between her and another human being, conversation with a stranger was unbearable.
She was damn good at bartending, and even if Ellie couldn’t understand it, that was something she was proud of.
“I commend you for wanting to make a good impression on your job, but you have to think about your future. You’re a talented artist and you can excel at anything you want.”
“I don’t need to be good at anything else.” Jamie stuffed more cheesecake in her mouth. “I’m going to make it as an artist, even if it kills me. Until then I’m a bartender, and I kick ass at that, too.”
“You are an amazing artist. But
making a living as one isn’t easy. It could take years for your art career to pick up. I just don’t want you to still be working at a bar when you’re my age.”
“What’d be so bad about that if I’m okay with it?” Now she was just baiting her, trying to raise Ellie’s irritation to the level of her own.
She drew in an exasperated breath, her lips pursed in a frown. “Nothing, for someone else. It’s just not what I want for you, and I don’t think it’s what you want for yourself either.”
Jamie ate the last bite of cheesecake then wiped crumbs from her mouth. “What I want is to make you proud, and this is my best shot at doing that. I know it’s taking me a lot longer than Mel or Mimi, but—”
“Jamie, honey, that isn’t what this is about.” Ellie placed her warm hand on Jamie’s arm. “You’re a bright, strong young woman. I’d never ask you to be anyone other than who you are. But I don’t want you to sell yourself short, either. Okay?”
Jamie nodded, rising from her chair and sliding it under the table.
“No one can deny your talent, but Nazirah says that so much more is required if you’re truly serious about making a living as an artist. This is your chance to stop dreaming and go big. Take it.” She stood and kissed Jamie on the cheek. “There are only a few spaces left in the class, and I asked her to hold one for you. So call her.”
“I will.” Jamie picked the card up again and stuffed it in the pocket of her black work pants. “I’d better head out. I don’t want to be late.”
“Be careful, and do yourself a favor. Go home and go to sleep tonight.” Ellie trailed Jamie to the front door. “In your bed.”
Jamie ignored her last comment. “But it’s Saturday night.”
Ellie raised an eyebrow, hand planted firmly on her hip. “And you’re exhausted. Go home. Read a book. Watch a movie. Get some sleep. You’ll thank me for it.”
“Fine. I’m tired anyway.” Jamie sat on the bench by the door and pulled on her shoes.
“Good.” Ellie sat beside her and patted her knee. “I am proud of you. Things haven’t been easy for you, but you’re smart and determined. You’re gifted and you’ve got so much potential. Don’t let it go to waste.”
Jamie sank her teeth into her lower lip, her gaze on the floor. “I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow.”
“You’d better.” Ellie squeezed her hand. “Or else I’ll be at Xavier’s place looking for you.”
That was no idle threat. She’d done it before. Jamie hadn’t even realized Ellie and Lou knew where Ex lived until they showed up at his door one night, Lou wielding a bat and threatening to beat his ass if his daughter didn’t come out in three seconds flat.
Most girls would probably think back on that day and cringe, mortified. It always made her smile. In those moments she was reassured that they loved her like a daughter. It wasn’t just lip service. Jamie laughed and gave Ellie a quick peck on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
She turned the key then yanked the door handle on her beat-up old Ford Explorer, which she affectionately called Byron. It was stuck. She gave it another tug.
“Hey there, darlin’.”
Time stopped. Every muscle in her body tightened like a curling fist. It’d been a long night, and she was exhausted. She was just hearing things.
“Aren’t you gonna give your momma a hug?”
Jamie turned slowly toward the voice, panic seizing her chest. She studied the woman’s face, tired and etched with years of self-induced grief. Her dull, auburn hair was gray at the roots, and she seemed a half foot smaller than Jamie remembered. Her clothes were clean but had definitely seen better days.
“Josephine? What...what are you doing here? I thought you were in Florida.” Jamie still hadn’t moved. Her breathing had resumed, but her brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She was light-headed.
“Is that any way to greet your momma?” The woman took a long drag on her cigarette and inched closer.
Jamie stepped back, gagging a little from the scent of cigarettes, day-old beer and who the hell knew what else. “I haven’t seen or heard from you in more than fifteen years. What the hell kind of reception did you expect?” The panic was giving way to anger as her blood began a slow boil.
“Don’t talk to your mother like that.” Josephine threw her cigarette to the pavement and ground it with the heel of her scuffed shoes. “You always was a smart-ass. I see even Miss Holier Than Thou in there—” she nodded toward the house, “—couldn’t cure you of that.”
“Don’t you dare say a word about her.” Jamie stepped toward her, fists clenched at her side, her jaw tight. Was it too much to ask to have a mother who wasn’t a fucking addict and didn’t make you want to punch the shit out of her?
Jo turned and leaned against the door. “I always knew they’d brainwashed you into thinking I was a shitty mother. Well, it ain’t true. I did the best I could to raise you after that sorry-ass father of yours left me all alone to take care of you.”
“I don’t want to talk about him. What do you want and why are you here?”
“I’ve missed you. Like you said, it’s been...a really long time and I always felt bad about how things ended between us. It’s been eatin’ at me all these years. I wanna make things right.”
“Don’t bother. I’m fine with the way things went down. In fact, I was glad to get rid of both of you.” Jamie’s cheeks grew hot and her throat burned. “It’s the best thing that could’ve happened to me. Feel better?”
“You always were a cruel little girl.” Jo stared at her.
A momentary bout of guilt squeezed her insides. Then she forced herself to remember the nights her mother had stayed out all night, leaving her at home alone. Or worse, the mornings Jamie would wake up to find some half-naked man rummaging through their refrigerator for another beer at eight in the morning. “Then you must’ve been as happy to be rid of me as I was to be rid of you,” Jamie said. “So again, why are you here?”
“I thought we could try to patch things up, you know? We’re all each other has.”
Jamie’s spine stiffened. She clenched her teeth and forced air in and out of her nostrils, like a bull seeing red. “If you’d been all I had, I would’ve turned up dead in a gutter years ago. They’ve been taking care of me practically since I was eight. They’re the only ones who give a shit about me. You don’t get to show up here and pretend like we’re a fucking family. You’re not my mother. Eleanor Gordon is.”
“They are not your family. They’re not even white. You’re fooling yourself. You’re a charity case to them. Their good deed for the day. I’m your blood. You can’t just turn your back on family.”
The blood felt like it was draining from her brain. She wanted to slap Josephine Charles or whatever the hell her name was now. Nobody talked about her mother, especially not the woman who’d given up the job. “I’m not turning my back on my family. I’m turning my back on you, the same way you turned yours on me.”
“Jamie, please—”
“Look, I gotta go to work. I don’t have time to do this.”
“Please, I...I don’t have any place to go. I’ve been staying at a shelter downtown. I thought maybe—”
“That what, I’d feel sorry for you and take you in?” Jamie sucked in a deep breath and released. “No way. Look at you. You’re a mess. What are you on, meth?”
Josephine shook her head but shifted her gaze to the ground.
“Right. Well, I’m not buying it. And I’m not buying this whole, ‘Let’s be a family again’ deal either.” She sniffed and rubbed her face with the back of her hand. “If you ever had an ounce of consideration for me, please just go away. And don’t come back. Ever.”
Jamie yanked the truck door so hard it felt like she’d separated her shoulder.
Josephine grabbed her arm. “Okay, you’re still mad. I get it. I wouldn’ta won any Mother of the Year awards. But if you could find it in your heart to—”
“Give you some money so you can get fuc
ked up tonight?”
Josephine shook her head. “I told you, I ain’t on nothin’ right now.”
Jamie sighed. “Okay, so then what? What is it you want from me?”
“If you could maybe just try to forgive me. You’re my kid. I don’t want to die alone, knowing my only kid hates my guts. Thinking about you, how you feel about me, it keeps me up at night. Outta all the things I’ve done in my life, not taking care of you, it’s the one thing I can’t forgive myself for. Not if you can’t forgive me.”
Jamie stared in the woman’s hollow eyes. Once a vibrant green like hers, they now seemed dull and lifeless. Yet there wasn’t the slightest hint of insincerity in them. A chill ran down her spine and she snatched her arm away. “If that’s what it takes to get you the hell away from me, consider yourself forgiven. But I can’t give you anything more than that. Understand?”
Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. She nodded somberly and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “At least I tried, right?”
Jamie hopped into the truck. She slammed the door shut and watched in her side mirror as Josephine turned and walked down the street looking...genuinely crushed. She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel, her entire body swaying from the banging of her heart against her chest.
What right did Jo have to expect her forgiveness? The woman ruined her fucking life. She was a spastic mess. The legacy of a father who’d abandoned her in the middle of the night when she was ten, and a mother who’d cared more about a good fuck than she did about the little girl those handsy bastards sought out in the middle of the night when she’d fallen asleep in her own vomit.
Josephine didn’t deserve her forgiveness. If that made her a cold, heartless bitch, so be it. That was how she felt, and it would never change. Jo couldn’t shift the trajectory her life had taken over the past two decades. So there was no fucking way Jamie was gonna let her off the hook after the damage had been done. Damage from which neither of them had recovered.
But something tugged at her soul and condemned her for turning the woman away. Jo had certainly fucked up the mothering part, but the woman had given birth to her.