Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
He answers with a laugh before shutting the door in our faces.
Jumping into action, I grab the sheet and hold it like a shield in front of my mom. “Get dressed.”
She fumbles with the clothes, pulling on her dress with trembling hands.
“Hurry,” I say, glancing over my shoulder to assess any possible danger, but no one moves.
Tears roll over her cheeks and plop on the cracked concrete when she fits her sandals. “He said he loved me.”
How can she be so fucking naïve? Is that how hard-up she is for affection? Her ego feeds on men’s attention, but she wouldn’t knowingly risk her life for a roll in the sheets. A part of her needs the fantasy as much as the sex. Like drawing for me, this is her form of escapism. Who am I to judge her?
“Get in the car.” I take her elbow. “I’ll drive.”
Dipping her head, she crumples her underwear in her hand and walks to the car. I follow, making sure the coast remains clear. She’s already seated on the passenger side when I get in behind the wheel.
I motion at the underwear in her lap. “Put that on.”
If we come home and Gus discovers she’s naked under her dress, we’re both dead, no questions asked.
She pushes the straps of her dress off her shoulders. “Gus is going to kill me.”
I start the engine with a trembling hand and steer the car into the street. “What happened?” What I mean to ask is how bad the damage is, but for her sake, I don’t phrase it like that.
“He took photos of us in bed.”
Shit. That bad.
“He’s going to kill me,” she says again, her voice oddly devoid of emotion.
“No.” My tone is firm. “For all we know that asshole did it to bribe you for money.” I can’t help but add, “Your boyfriend is probably in on it.”
“No.” She hooks the clasp of her bra in the front and pushes her arms through the straps. “He was too upset.”
“How did you even meet him?”
“In the grocery store.”
Giving her a quick look, I ask, “Woollies?”
“They have a food court at the back.”
“Oh, Mom. How long?”
She shrugs. “Three months.”
“I can’t believe he made you go to his house.”
“It was my idea, so don’t blame it on him.”
I take a shaky breath. “The man who took the photos, do you have any idea who he is?”
She looks through the window and shakes her head.
“He’ll contact you to make his demands. When he calls you, I’ll deal with him.” I steal another glance at her. “I’ll sort it out.” I have to. I’m the reason my mom is living this life. I owe her mine.
“I’m scared,” she says so softly I have to strain my ears to hear.
“I’ll handle it, Mom. Leave it to me. Whatever you do, don’t say a word to anyone.”
I want to add and don’t let this happen again, but it’s not my place or the moment to preach. Besides, what’s the point? My mom is addicted to sex she mistakes for affection. Addicts don’t give up just like that. She may abstain for a while, for as long as the scare of tonight lasts, but she’s never going to stop. Except for saving money, that’s the other reason I’m still living with them. I can’t leave my mom unguarded.
I head for the nearest exit, but it’s taking time. We’re catching all the traffic lights red. In Brixton, we hit a roadblock. The police are checking driver’s licenses and doing routine searches of the cars.
Shit. I didn’t take my purse.
Flicking on the indicator, I turn left.
“What now?” my mom asks.
“We’ll have to take the small roads. I can go via Broadacres.”
Her eyes grow large. “That’ll take at least an hour. Let me drive.”
“What if someone at the roadblock knows Gus and recognizes you or the car?”
She clamps her lips together. Gus has many of the traffic police in his pocket. In his business, he needs government officials on his payroll.
“What are we going to tell Gus?” she asks, looking at the time on the dashboard clock.
We won’t make it back before seven-thirty. Dinner is at seven sharp. Gus never makes exceptions.
“I’ll think of something,” I say.
While driving, I look for an open strip mall. When I spot one with a pharmacy, I pull over.
“Give me some money,” I tell my mom as I park.
“In my bag in the back.”
I hop down, flinching as my feet hit the ground. I find my mom’s purse behind the seat and fish out a few bills. At the pharmacy, I buy a box of tampons and a Coke.
Back in the car, I give my mom the Coke. Sugar always helps to settle her nerves.
We drive the rest of the way home in silence, each of us wrapped up in our fear.