by J. D. Rivera
“With that Lara girl?”
His grin widened. “With her. And a few others.”
“When you get herpes or something, I won’t feel sorry for you.”
“My junk is clean. No glove, no love. And maybe you’d be a little happier if you had sex every once in a while. You’re like a nun or something.”
I knew my cheeks were beet red, I could feel the heat. “I—”
“Oh, man. With the way your face just turned every shade of red, I’m guessing I was wrong with that last statement.”
I shook my head. No, no, no. He couldn’t find out about Brad and me. I was already humiliated enough as it was. “No. I just don’t like talking about my sex life with you. That’s all.”
“So, there is a sex life?”
“Shut up,” I hissed as I threw a napkin at him. “No, there is not. It’s just…you’re my cousin and this conversation is gross.”
He busted out laughing. “I love grossing you out.”
“Whatever, I have to get to work,” I said as I slid out of the booth.
“Miranda?”
I turned to look back at him. “Yeah?”
“If you need me after you turn your phone back on, call me. I’m here for you.”
“Thank you,” I said, knowing he was talking about Preston. I leaned down and gave him a small hug. “Really. Thank you.”
He nodded and I walked away, trudging through campus as the sky opened up and rain started pouring down. My already fragile emotions became too much and I let my tears flow, mixing with the rain sliding down my face. Images of Brad standing outside my door in the rain flashed through my mind. He had looked absolutely amazing in his black hoodie and loose jeans.
Another image of him naked, hovering over me as he kissed me, quickly replaced the last. He had gazed down at me with something more than just lust. At least, I thought he had. But if he had ever felt anything more for me, he wouldn’t have been able to discard me like a cheap hooker.
I yanked open my car door and practically fell inside as the tears turned into sobs. I glanced in the rear view mirror, taking a quick glance at my appearance. I hadn’t worn any makeup but my face was splotchy and parts of my hair were sticking to my face.
I turned the air conditioner on to cool my heated body as I dug in my purse for my phone. It was time I turned it back on and faced reality.
I had several missed calls and texts, ranging from Carson to Mackenzie to Gage. But the one that stood out was from Poco Richard.
Poco Richard: I miss you. I really want to see you.
I silently thanked God for not letting him send the text on Sunday. If he’d sent it while I was on my bathroom floor, I would have texted right back, seeing it as a sign to use again.
He was still the same Preston. Bossing me around one moment, then telling me he missed me the next. In the past, I would have ran right back to him, taking anything he would have given me. He was right, I was an idiot.
I placed the phone back in my purse and rummaged around until I found some makeup. After rubbing on some powder and redoing my hair, I was able to leave the parking lot and head to work.
I pulled into the back parking lot a short time later, instantly greeted by Gage opening my door. “Hey. Long time no talk.”
“Yeah.” I offered, not wanting to explain my absence. “Sorry. I just looked at my phone.”
“Larry said you were sick?”
I inhaled as I glanced at his worried face. “Yeah, I had the flu.”
“That sucks. I’m glad you’re better.”
“Thanks, me too,” I said, walking in the back door of the restaurant with Gage following me. “I hope I didn’t leave y’all too short handed.”
“We managed.” He grinned, leaning against the wall next to me as I placed my purse in a locker. “So, can I still take you out on Friday for your birthday?”
A big part of me wanted to stay home and sleep and forget my birthday, but another part wanted to go out and have some fun. Maybe forget everything in the process. “Sure. Do you want to pick me up at my apartment?”
“We could just leave from work together.” I fumbled with the tie on my apron. “Here, let me help,” he stated, batting my hands away and tying the knot.
“I’d, um, rather go home to shower and change first. If that’s okay?”
“Yeah. Sounds perfect.”
I nodded, not knowing what else to say, and turned toward the door leading out to the bar.
“Miranda?” he called over my shoulder. I turned to acknowledge him. “You look beautiful today.”
And with that simple sentence, it was confirmed that every single guy was a liar.
Chapter 16
Brad
I opened the door to my mom’s older, two-bedroom home to the sound of dishes clanking in the kitchen. I walked through the living room and into the kitchen, leaning against the sidewall.
“Hey, Mom.”
She inhaled sharply, almost dropping a plate. “Brad!” she yelled, turning quickly and pulling her arm toward her chest.
I laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She shook her head. “Yes, you did,” she said, fighting a smile. “What are you doing here?”
I sat down on a barstool. “Can’t a son come see his mom?”
“Sure. But you haven’t been over here in weeks.”
“Well, I’m here now.” I got up and poured myself a glass of sweet tea. “Work has been crazy lately.”
“I’m sure it has. I’m always hearing something on the news.”
I tipped the glass back, downing the tea in one gulp. “Anything you need help with?”
She pointed toward the sink. “One of the pipes is leaking. It’s only a small leak, so I just stuck a bucket under it to catch the water.”
I opened the cabinet to take a look. As I knelt down, I asked, “Why didn’t you just call me about this?”
“It’s just a small leak and I hate bothering you. I know you have your own life and don’t need to be worrying about me.”
I pulled out my phone, using the flashlight to get a better look. “Mom, I’m here. You know you can call me.” I fiddled around with the pipes, realizing the problem. “It’s the gasket. I’ll run to the store and have it fixed in no time.”
She pushed some hair behind her ear and I noticed how tired she looked. “Mom, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
I cocked my head to the side, studying her. She had bags under her eyes and she looked smaller, if that were possible. Almost frail. “How many hours have you been working at the diner?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Mom.”
“I’ve been a little short staffed.”
I stepped closer to her. “You need to cut that out. Hire someone, anyone. You’re going to kill yourself over a stupid diner.” I sat back down on the barstool. “You’d tell me if something else was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
I definitely wasn’t a mama’s boy, but I loved my mom a lot. I had already lost one parent—the thought of losing my mom made it hard to breathe. She didn’t answer me immediately, so I asked again. “Wouldn’t you?”
She sighed. “Of course, Brad. But I have bills to pay. I have to work.”
“What bills?”
“My car is on its last leg. I’m going to need a new one soon and I’m trying to get as much of a down payment as I can saved before my car quits.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “You are so stubborn. You’d rather kill yourself than ask me for help, wouldn’t you? I’ll help you get a new car. But you have to stop working so much. You look sick.”
“Thanks,” she retorted.
“You know what I mean. Now, I’m going to go to the store to get that gasket for the pipe. When I get back, you’ll tell me how much money you need.”
“That is your money.”
“I’m your son, Mom. I don’t require a lot. Trust me, I can help you.”
She nodded as I walked past her to leave, the tension in my chest easing with her concession.
***
The entire trip to the hardware store and back, my thoughts alternated between my mom and Miranda. I wanted to make sure my mom was healthy and ease as much stress as I could for her. I had plenty of money in savings, buying her a car would be no problem. And Miranda…well, I wondered how I could make my actions up to her. She was an amazing girl and I hated that she had a darkness in her I couldn’t figure out. I also hated that I had more than likely added to it. I was a coward. Not once had I reached out since dropping her ever so eloquently off at her apartment. I worked and fought the endless thoughts of her plaguing me on a daily basis. I hated the way I had treated her, but I’ve done nothing to change it. Not even apologize or explain my actions. I was a fucking coward.
Sighing, I grabbed the bag with the new gasket, climbed out of my truck, and entered my mom’s house once again. She was sitting in her recliner, asleep. I was sure she hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but I hated that she hadn’t locked her door.
I quietly crept into the kitchen and toward the garage in hopes of finding the correct tools. Once I found what I needed, I went back to the kitchen and got to work fixing the drain.
I was just shutting the cabinet when my mom padded into the kitchen. “Did you get it fixed?”
“Just finished.”
She yawned. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”
I stood up, holding the tools in my hand. “You needed the sleep, but, Mom, you need to make sure your doors are locked.”
“The door wasn’t locked?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll take the blame since I should have made sure the door was locked when I left, but you need to be more careful. If you think you are going to fall asleep, please make sure it’s locked first. Or, better yet, just make it a habit of keeping it locked.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Detective.”
“Mom, I’m being serious. I see a lot of shit.” I walked toward the door leading to the garage. “I’m going to put these away and then we will talk about getting you a car.”
She didn’t say anything, but I knew she wouldn’t. She hated this idea, but I wasn’t going to let her work herself to death when I had the money.
I placed the tools back in the toolbox then went back inside. My mom was sitting in her recliner under a blanket. “Okay, let’s talk,” I said as I sat down on the couch.
“I can pay for my own car, Brad.”
“I’m sure you can, but I’m doing it. Would fifteen be enough?”
She scrunched her eyebrows. “I don’t need that much. I was hoping to save another five, that’s all.”
“You’re keeping that for retirement or something. I’m buying you a car. No arguments,” I declared, propping my feet on the coffee table.
“No.”
“Yes. You work too much and need to rest.”
“So do you,” she challenged. “How am I ever going to have grandkids if you won’t quit working long enough to meet a girl?”
Good question. “I don’t want to talk about that. We are talking about you.”
“What about Mackenzie’s friend? I saw the way you were looking at her last weekend.”
I looked at my mom, expressionless. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid with me,” she stated, pointing a finger at me. “She’s a beautiful girl. What’s the problem? Does she have a boyfriend? I didn’t see one around.”
“Mom,” I started, “she’s way too young for me.”
“No she’s not,” she scoffed.
“Nineteen. Twenty, I guess, since her birthday is tomorrow.”
“And?”
I shook my head. Was I really having this conversation with my mother? “She’s a nice girl, but come on. I’m nearing thirty.”
“Do you know how much older your dad was than me?” I hadn’t really thought about it. “Ten years. He was twenty-eight and I was eighteen. We met two weeks, I think, before I graduated high school. By the end of the summer, I was pregnant and married.”
I was sure my mouth had popped open at some point during her little story. My dad dated my mom when she was only eighteen and he was twenty-eight? I stared at her as I scrubbed my hand over my cheek, absorbing that information.
My mom and dad had a ten year age difference and they had loved each other until he died. Age had never been a problem for them and I doubt anyone actually noticed. I never had. I mean, I knew my parents birthdates, but their ages never really crossed my mind. It hadn’t mattered to me.
Miranda and I were nine years apart. I had to admit, I was drawn to her and loved her quirky personality. Fun and carefree one minute, quiet and nervous the next. Did it really matter that I was older than her? It wasn’t like she was fourteen. She was an adult. Maybe we could make it work.
A smile spread across my face, but disappeared just as quickly. I had fucked everything up and treated her like trash. I didn’t think she could ever forgive me for that.
“Brad?”
I blinked at my mom’s voice. “Yeah?”
“I was right, wasn’t I? You like that girl. What’s her name, Miranda?”
I nodded. “Yeah, Miranda,” I said, confirming her name along with my feelings.
“I thought so.” She reached over and patted my arm. “So, what are you doing here with your mom? You should be out wooing her.”
I chuckled. “Wooing her?”
“Yes. Now, we’ll go car shopping Saturday morning, but you go ask that girl out on a date.”
“So, you’re going to let me buy you a car?” I asked as I stood from the couch.
My mom nodded. “Only if you ask her out. Otherwise, no deal.”
I nodded and bent to kiss her on the cheek. “Bye, Mom. See you Saturday.” I walked toward the door and turned back. “And lock your doors!”
“Yes, sir.”
I opened the door, flicked the lock into the locked position, and exited the house, all the while thinking about my mom’s revelation.
***
The next night, Rob and I agreed to do some undercover work for another department, watching for prostitutes. We basically walked around the restaurant and club district, surveying the area for any women who appeared to be selling themselves.
“I’m fucking starving,” Rob declared as we walked in the direction of a Mexican restaurant.
I shrugged. “I could eat.” I was ready to get this shift over with. It being Miranda’s birthday had been weighing on my mind. I still wasn’t convinced we could be together—not because of the age, but because of my actions. I kept debating whether it would be a good idea to stop by her apartment and give her the birthday gift I had actually bought before last weekend. I wanted to apologize, but I still wasn’t sure.
We walked into the restaurant and were seated after a short fifteen minute wait. I sat down, immediately scrubbing my cheeks before running my fingers through my hair.
“What’s up, man? You’ve been quiet and now you seem nervous or something,” Rob questioned.
I shrugged. I had never been much of a talker. “Tired, I guess.”
“Okay.”
We both dug into the chips and salsa placed on the table, not saying anything to each other.
I noticed Rob’s eye dart to the side with his eyebrows furrowed, as if he were thinking. “What are you looking at?” I asked, turning to check.
My chest tightened and my heart stopped beating. I didn’t think I knew what jealousy really felt like until that moment. Miranda was sitting at a table across the room, looking unbelievably sexy with that asshole bartender from Mario’s. I had no idea if he was an asshole, but he was on a date with my girl. My girl.
“You okay?” Rob questioned.
I swung my eyes back to him. “Yep, why?” I tried to sound normal, but it came out angry and annoyed.
“Because you look like you want to knock the shit out of that guy
over there.”
“That’s because I do,” I answered, truthfully.
Chapter 17
Miranda
An hour after our shift ended, Gage picked me up at my apartment. Since it was my birthday, I decided to dress up. I hadn’t dressed in anything more than jeans and t-shirt in so long, it felt good concentrating on the extra effort. I put on a pair of dark skinny jeans, black knee-high boots with a three-inch heel, and a tight, gray V-neck with black lace on the sides. I even took my time fixing my hair, curling the ends, and did a smoky eye look with just a small amount of lip gloss.
The conversation on the ride to the restaurant had been nice and friendly, but a little forced, making me worry the night was going to suck.
I opened the door to his car and we met each other at the front. “Are you sure Mexican is okay? It’s your birthday, I’m fine with whatever you want.”
“I love Mexican.”
I played with my hair and tugged on the bottom of my shirt, anything to keep my hands busy, sensing he wanted to hold my hand as we walked side by side.
I hated the awkward silence. “It’s a nice night out,” I remarked, feeling like a dumbass for such a lame comment.
“It is. Not too hot, not too cold.”
I nodded in agreement, racking my mind for something else to talk about. “How many cougars came in during lunch just to flirt with you today?”
He laughed slightly. “Only one or two. I must be losing my touch.” He walked a little ahead of me to open the door. “Here we are.”
“Thanks,” I said, slipping inside.
After checking in with the host, we only had to wait a few minutes before being seated.
“Do you care if I order a beer?” Gage asked.
I shook my head, making eye contact. “No, go ahead.” It was almost comical how sweet he was being. It wasn’t as if we hadn’t talked before, we talked almost every day.
The chips and salsa were placed on the table and I immediately dug in, not caring whether I looked like a pig. I was freaking hungry.
“I’ll have a Corona and water,” Gage told the waiter as I munched on a chip, trying to swallow. “Miranda, what would you like?”