Savage Pride

25

Once I’m dried off and in an oversized pajama shirt, I crawl into bed with my worries. They haven’t subsided, but at least I’m more disheartened than angry. Unfettered rage makes for a poor bedtime companion. I close my eyes and try to drown out my thoughts when I hear a sound in the hallway. The only people upstairs should be us girls, so I immediately assume Livia has finally come home. She’s old enough not to have a curfew, but I wasn’t crazy about her disappearing without a word. I tell myself that arguing with her now is beyond my capacity, and it's best if I let it go. Then I lay, straining to hear more sound, wondering if it was her at all. Maybe it wasn’t, and she’s still out. Maybe she’s been hurt. I sigh deeply and slip from the bed. At some point, I’d think my brain would be exhausted with itself and quit, but no such luck. The bathroom door is shut with the light on. I test the knob and find it’s unlocked. When I open the door, Liv is sitting on the side of the tub, halfnaked with her red curls plopped in a messy pile on her head. She looks so much like Mom and is equally as bad at making decisions for herself. It hurts my heart to witness. “Lu-ees-a,” she hiccups with a blinding grin. “What are you doing up?” Her words are slurred but not enough for me to worry about alcohol poisoning. Some of the scathing comments I’d considered die a quick death when I realize she’s drunk. No point in arguing with a drunk Livia. “Hey, little sister,” I whisper. “You been having fun?” She puts her finger to her lips as if telling me to be quiet when she’s the one with the volume problem. “I’ve had such a lovely night.” Her eyes drift shut as she smiles again. “I’m glad to hear it, but you never told anyone where you were going. That’s not safe, you know.” “Don’t be such a Worry McWorry Face. Everything is going to be fine. You … you take my word.” She struggles to take off her bra and put on a sleep shirt as she talks. Watching her is rather entertaining, but I give in and help. “Some of us have to worry because others of us don’t worry enough.” “There’s no need, silly. I’m going to marry someone rich, rich, rich! So why worry?” “Orrr,” I draw out. “You could make your own money and not rely on someone else to take care of you.” Livia collapses into a fit of giggles, snorting, then snickering some more. “You’re so funny, Lulu.” Apparently, everyone was going to resurrect that nickname tonight. “All right, Livy. Let’s get you to bed.” I help her up and get her tucked in before returning to the bathroom to tidy up. When I crawl back into my own bed next to Gia, I am well and truly exhausted. My worries finally coalesce into a fat, gelatinous blob in the back of my brain, enabling me to hide from them for the moment. I focus on Gia’s slow, even breaths, and before I know it, I’m drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep. I haven’t felt this well rested in ages. It’s the first thing I think as I stretch in bed. I must have slipped into a coma because I feel like I’ve slept for a week. When I open my eyes, I confirm that the sun is well into the sky. I’ve slept much later than I intended. Now that the funeral is over, I don’t need to help my family with work, but I still hadn’t meant to sleep half the day away. After I roll myself out of bed, I pull on a pair of booty shorts and give my teeth a quick brush before confirming I’m alone in the house. Thank God. I need a few minutes of peace and quiet. No drama. No more surprises. I slip a pod in the Keurig and open my phone to start scrolling on social media when a knock sounds at the front door. My parents don’t get many visitors, especially unexpected visitors, since guests have to be approved at the gate. Assuming it’s probably Mrs. Larson stopping by to see my mom, I open the door wide. Only, it’s not Mrs. Larson. It’s not anyone I know. “Can I help you?” I ask warily, crossing my arms over my chest when I remember I don’t have a bra on. The man on our front porch grins the most seedy, serpentine grin I’ve ever seen. His black hair hangs down over his forehead, and his eyes are a smidge too close together. He’s not big, but somehow, he’s not any less intimidating for it. If he were walking toward me on a sidewalk, I’d find a reason to cross the street. “That depends. I’m looking for Gemma, but judging by those eyes, you must be one of her girls.” Most people don’t think I look a ton like my mother because I don’t have her billowing red curls, but my eyes and nose are just like hers. That never bothered me before as much as it does right this second. I don’t want this man to find me familiar, and I especially don’t want to bear any resemblance to the woman I call a mother. “They’re at work right now.” I study the man to sort out who he is, but in my gut, I know. This is the bookie my mom owes money to. The reason she was scared out of her mind. “Are you Aldo?” He rocks back on his heels with a grin that makes me want to pumice my eyeballs. “Hey, look at that. It’s like I’m famous. Your ma tell you about me?” “Not exactly. How did you get past the gate?” His tongue plunders his teeth like he’s got the holy grail stuck back there. “You got a lot of questions for a girl. You wanna go on a date, we can talk all night long. Right now? I got some business to handle.” I say nothing. I certainly don’t want to go on a date with this creep, nor do I want to piss him off. He accepts my silence for the rejection it is, shrugs, and continues. “I’ve been in the area for three days for this damn funeral, and I wanted to get this s**t with your mother finished by the time I went home, only she’s managed to avoid me at every opportunity. I’m gettin’ real fuckin’sick of chasing after her.” So that was why Mom was so out of sorts the past few days. That was why she was drinking and why she bailed from going to the luncheon. She was hiding. “I heard her talking to you last night on the phone. I thought she had another week to pay you.” The corner of his mouth fish-hooks up in a smirk that bleeds into a snarl. “No, sweet thing. She was asking me for another week. I told her she better get my money by to-f*****g-day.” “And if she doesn’t pay you?” I can’t totally irradicate the fear from my voice. “I suppose that’s between your pops and me.” “Look, he doesn’t know anything about this, and I don’t want him hurt because of it. What if … what if I helped my mom pay her debt? If I promise I’ll get you paid by the end of this week, would you give me that time?” I’m not sure what I’m doing, but I have to at least try to buy more time.