Tequila & Lace
By Kimberly Knight
No portion of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The subject matter is not appropriate for minors. Please note this novel contains profanity, explicit sexual situations, and alcohol consumption.
Tequila & Lace
Copyright © 2015 Kimberly Knight
Digital Edition
Published by Knight Publishing & Design, LLC
Cover art © Okay Creations
Cover Photographer © by E. Marie Photography
All rights reserved.
Dedication
To the original Paul Jackson.
There is rarely a day that I don’t think of you. I miss you too much.
May you rest in peace.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One: Joselyn
Chapter Two: Paul
Chapter Three: Joselyn
Chapter Four: Paul
Chapter Five: Joselyn
Chapter Six: Paul
Chapter Seven: Andi
Chapter Eight: Paul
Chapter Nine: Andi
Chapter Ten: Paul
Chapter Eleven: Andi
Chapter Twelve: Paul
Chapter Thirteen: Andi
Chapter Fourteen: Paul
Chapter Fifteen: Andi
Chapter Sixteen: Paul
Chapter Seventeen: Andi
Chapter Eighteen: Paul
Chapter Nineteen: Andi
Chapter Twenty: Joselyn
Chapter Twenty-One: Paul
Chapter Twenty-Two: Joselyn
Chapter Twenty-Three: Paul
Note from the Author
Books by Kimberly Knight
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
Joselyn
I stared out of the tiny, grungy, living room window of our two-bedroom mobile home. Today was my birthday and for the past seventeen years, I couldn’t remember a birthday when I’d woken up to presents and cake, or even my mother wishing me a happy birthday.
Today was no different.
“When are we gonna have cake?” my brother, Bryce, asked, tugging on the hem of my purple tank top.
I turned and looked down at him. I didn’t know if we were going to have cake at all, so I did my best not to give him false hope. “I’m not sure, buddy. Maybe when Mommy wakes up.”
“But I want cake now!” he whined, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking his bottom lip out.
I wanted to tell my eight year old brother that I wanted cake now too, but we didn’t have money to go to the store. There was also no way I was waking up Mother in hopes she’d remembered my birthday—even if it was close to two in the afternoon.
“How about you draw me a cake and by the time you’re done Mommy might be awake? You haven’t given me my present yet.” I reached out and ran my hand over the top of his hair, messing up the shaggy light brown length that was opposite of my dark brown. I knew I was only biding time, but once Mother was up and in one of her moods, he’d forget about the cake and watch cartoons instead to avoid her antics.
“Fine,” he huffed, then turned on his heels. I watched as he ran down the hall toward the room that we shared. I silently prayed he didn’t wake Mother. If he did, she’d yell and make him cry, then leave me to get him to stop. She was still asleep because she worked nights. I’d thought she worked as a waitress at an all-night diner or something, but when I was thirteen, I learned the truth. I’d woken up as she was coming home at four in the morning dressed in a red tube top, a short black skirt that barely covered her panties (if she were even wearing any), black fishnet stockings, and black high heels that I was certain I’d break an ankle in.
“What are you doing up?” she asked, narrowing her eyes and glaring at me as she closed and locked the small, metal trailer door behind her.
I swallowed. “I … uh … I’m getting some water.”
“Hurry up and get back in bed, Joss.” She brushed past me as she made her way down the narrow hall toward her bedroom. She smelled of cigarettes and sweat. All traces of her perfume I’d seen her squirt on her wrists before leaving were gone.
“Why are you dressed like that?” I asked. She had been wearing jeans and a T-shirt when she’d left the house, so I was curious, but I quickly regretted the question as she spun on her heels, anger flashing in her eyes. She backtracked toward me, pointing her index finger.
“I’m the adult. You don’t get to question me.”
I huffed. She’d left me alone every night for as long as I could remember. Luckily, I had Mrs. McKenna next door if anything were to ever happen to me and my brother. “You’re dressed like—”
“Like what, Joss?” She put her hand on her hip and cocked it when she was a few feet from me.
My eyes widened. I should have known not to question her. Whenever I did something she disapproved of, she’d whip me with a flyswatter, a wooden spoon, a belt, a shoe—whatever was on hand, and I didn’t feel like crying myself to sleep if she decided to ever use the end of her spiked heel.
“Like what, Joss?” she asked again. I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t sound as if she were surprised by my question, or that she wanted to hide something.
I took a quick deep breath before I spoke. “A … Uh, a hooker.”
I’d expected her to reach down, slip off her heel and throw it at my head. Instead, she’d laughed while her eyes closed briefly. She shook her head, not necessarily telling me I was wrong. “I really didn’t want to have this conversation at four in the morning, but you’re bound to find out at some time.” She motioned for me to sit at the light blue card table we used as a kitchen table. We sat and she lit a cigarette, the smell of smoke instantly clinging to my clothes as I watched it float in the air before she spoke again. “Yes, I’m a hooker.”
Have you ever had one of those moments where your world felt as if it were spinning on its axis? Or as if your head was literally spinning on your body? Something was spinning inside my head because even though I’d said she looked like she was dressed as a hooker and she worked crazy night hours, I really hadn’t suspected that my own mother was a prostitute.
“Are you going to say something?”
My eyes focused on her face as I realize I was staring at her, trying to wrap my head around what she’d professed. What were my friends at school going to think if they found out? “So you like … stand on the corner?”
She blew a poof of smoke into the air above our heads. “Gotta make money to feed us and put a roof over our heads somehow.”
“Why a hooker? Why not a waitress or something?” During the summer, Mrs. McKenna’s grandson, Seth, would visit. We’d play house with my friend Catherine (or Cat as we called her) and choose professions like a doctor, lawyer, teacher, bank teller, waitress, housewife, but never a hooker. Seth was always a cop. He was four years older than us and wanted to protect us from all the bad guys.
She chuckled. “If your father hadn’t left us before you were born, we wouldn’t be living in a dump, Joss. I got pregnant when I was your age and your grandparents kicked me out for getting knocked up. I thought your father would take care of me. Instead, he left me at a gas station in the middle of nowhere between here and Fort Lauderdale.
“I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I thought your father loved me. I thought he wanted
to be with me. I was young and stupid and so wrong. Luckily, I met Tony at a diner I’d walked to. After he’d bought me some food, he drove me here to Miami and gave me a room in his house. Long story short, after I had you and was able to have sex again, I started working for him.”
I hadn’t asked many questions after that. I didn’t want to know what was going on when she left the house. I kept her profession a secret, even after Seth became a cop in D.C. Mother mentioned recently that her duties had changed a little—I still didn’t ask questions. All I knew was she dressed more business like now. Her skirts were a little longer. Her shirts covered more. She seemed happier, but Bryce and I continued to be on the back burner.
Every night was the same. She left around four in the afternoon and I stayed home to feed us, make sure our homework was done and that Bryce went to bed at a decent hour. On school days, I took Bryce next door to Mrs. McKenna’s before I took the bus to school. She was the one who took him to school and picked him up when it was over because Mother was sleeping at those hours. I wasn’t sure if Mrs. McKenna knew what Mother did for a living, but I wasn’t going to tell her. I felt terrible that she cared for a child who wasn’t her own, but I saw the love in her eyes when it came to him, and I was only a kid myself. I had no other choice.
Now I only had one more year until I was an adult. I wasn’t sure what was after high school for me. I didn’t want to stay home and take care of Bryce. I loved him, but I wanted to get a job, save up money, and move out on my own. I wanted to be roommates with Cat, go to parties and live wild and free. But I knew college wasn’t in my future, not even community college. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to afford my share of the rent, pay bills and obtain a degree. Hell, I didn’t even know what I wanted to be when I grew up.
As I stared out the window, thinking about my future and the year to come, there was a slight knock against the screen of the front door. “Mrs. McKenna,” I greeted. I always used her formal name. I was introduced to her as that and it had stuck.
“Happy birthday, dear. You have a phone call.” She smiled and reached her hand out to pass me her cordless house phone. “I’ll watch Brycie. Go ahead and use my phone inside.” She motioned with her head toward her trailer.
I took the two steps down while holding the screen door so it didn’t slam and wake Mother. “Thank you.” I beamed and switched spots with her. I walked a few feet before speaking into the phone to Seth. “Please tell me for my eightieth birthday you’ll show up and not just call?” I grinned then gave a slight chuckle into the receiver while I stepped into the other trailer that was less than twenty feet away.
Seth’s mature voice rang through as he spoke. Over the years, I’d heard it change into a deep manly voice and now it did things deep in the pit of my belly that made me grin like a complete fool whenever we spoke. “I’ll show up as your knight in shining armor. Should it be on a white or black horse?”
I laughed again. “How about a white or black car?”
“I could do that if I picked you up at the airport here.”
“Oh my God. I could just see the look on people’s faces as I got in the back of a D.C. squad car.”
“Want me to handcuff you too?”
“No way!” For a split second, images of being handcuff naked with Seth kissing his way down my body flashed in my head. Teen hormones were no joke, but I was waiting. I wasn’t sure if I was waiting to be with Seth when I turned eighteen and legal—since he was a cop and twenty-one, or if I was waiting until I found someone special. All I knew was I didn’t want to treat sex like my mother did.
“I’m only joking, Joss.”
I smiled as I envisioned him smiling on the other end. I loved his smile. When he did, his mouth curved enough to cause his cheeks to meet his eyes, and when they squinted, you knew you had a genuine smile out of him. I knew at that moment—on the other end of the phone—he was giving me that smile. We were silent for a few beats as I looked around at the pictures of Seth from his childhood that were scattered throughout the small living room.
“It’s actually white.”
“What?” I asked, my eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
“The squad car. It’s white with red decals and blue writing.”
“Oh. Well, I’ve never been on a plane before. Not sure if I’d even make it up to see you.”
“You’ve never been on a plane?”
I frowned. “Nope.” I’d actually never left the trailer park for more than one night.
“All right. For graduation, I’m taking you somewhere on a plane.”
I sighed and fell back onto the cream colored velvet couch with burnt orange roses. “Aw, man. I gotta wait over a year?” I was teasing, but getting away sounded like heaven, especially with Seth.
“Not my fault you’re a baby. We gotta wait to get you an I.D. so you can go places since Cruella won’t let you get one.”
“I have my school I.D.”
“Tempting, but you’re still a baby.”
I rolled my eyes. “And you’re still an ass.”
“Not my fault you don’t have an older brother. I have to step up.” I cringed at the word brother. “Anyway, birthday girl, I gotta go. Duty calls and all that shit—”
“Yeah, yeah, go catch those bad guys.”
He chuckled. “Have Grandma cook you something good for dinner. You know she will.”
“I know,” I sighed. “I just want cake.” And candles … And to make a wish as I blow out the candles.
“She’ll bake you one, Josie. She makes a mean ‘better than sex’ cake.”
“Come again?” I covered my mouth with my hand as the words spilled from it. Sex. Cum. Talking to Seth about sex and cum. Fuck my life.
“It’s a chocolate cake, Joss. And it’s fucking awesome.”
“All right. Go catch those bad guys and I’ll just be over here having an orgasm while I eat cake.” I hung up the phone before he could respond. I wanted the last word and I wanted him to think about me having an orgasm … even if I was a baby in his eyes.
Fucking teenage hormones.
After placing the phone back on its cradle, I returned to my trailer. Mother was still asleep and Bryce was just coming out of our room, running with a sheet of binder paper in his hand.
“Shh, B, you’re gonna wake Mom.” I gave Mrs. McKenna a tight smile after I lifted my finger to my mouth.
“I drew you a birthday cake,” he whisper-shouted.
“I love it,” I whispered back and took the paper from the palm of the hand my mother had used as an ashtray.
I was thirteen and Bryce was only four. Mother had the night off from her job, which was rare, and we were watching 101 Dalmatians. We didn’t have cable and the only VHS cassette we owned was the cartoon from 1961, so we knew this movie by heart. I hated when she was home because she was usually pissed off at us, and she’d end up passed out on the couch after drinking a bottle of gin. This night was no different. She was angry at Bryce for something that was “all his fault” and he was crying. Before I knew what was happening, she’d yanked his hand and used it as an ashtray. I rushed him over to Mrs. McKenna’s trailer, telling her he’d burned it on the stove. She bandaged his hand, and when we returned home, Mother was passed out on the couch. The next few months, Mrs. McKenna made sure to check on us nightly.
“Want me to bake you a cake?” Mrs. McKenna asked.
“That won’t be necessary. She won’t be home.”
My eyes darted toward the hall as my mother came around the corner, tightening her belt on her baby blue robe around her waist. “I won’t?” This was the first I heard about it.
She shook her head. “You have plans.”
We never had plans; especially plans for my birthday. “We do?”
“Yes.” Her tone was short, so I wasn’t going to question her again.
“Well, then I will let you get to your plans,” Mrs. McKenna remarked, reaching for the front door.
“Thank you again.”
I gave her a quick hug. She nodded to my mother then left.
“What was that all about?” Mother asked, a cigarette between her lips as she flicked her lighter. I watched as the flame burned the tip.
“Seth called to wish me a happy birthday.”
She blew a puff of smoke from her mouth. “That’s nice. Go shower, Joselyn. When you come out, there will be a dress on your bed for you to wear.”
“Where are we going? What are we doing?” I asked, not taking a breath. I didn’t care that she hadn’t wished me a happy birthday. She had bought me a dress and was taking me out.
“Just go take a shower, dammit!” she spat, causing me to jump.
I paused, glaring at her for a beat, then turned my head to look at Bryce. He was watching cartoons without a care in the world. I tried hard—really hard not to roll my eyes as I brushed past her. I was used to her yelling, but for one day—just one—I wished she would take into account that it was my birthday and act sweet.
Before I went to the bathroom to shower, I folded Bryce’s picture and put it in my purse to take with me. I didn’t want Mother to do something with it. I didn’t trust her. I never kept anything I didn’t want her not to throw away. Granted I didn’t have much to begin with. I didn’t have jewelry. I didn’t have nice clothes. I didn’t have CDs. I didn’t have books. I didn’t have DVDs. I didn’t have anything except a photo of me and Bryce, one of me, Cat, and Seth from three summers ago that we took during Seth’s last summer visit, and a few pictures Bryce had drawn for me at school. I kept Bryce’s pictures he colored for me under my mattress and my photos in my purse.
Tonight I was going out for my birthday, and I was dressed up—something I’d never done.
When I returned to my room, there was a dress lying on my twin bed. I held it up in front of me; it barely came to my mid-thigh. It was a simple, sleeveless black dress. I didn’t have a strapless bra, but I could go one night without one—depending on what we did. I didn’t care. I was happy for once. It was getting to be dinner time, so hopefully we’d have a nice meal because I could go for something other than soup or a grilled cheese sandwich.
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