Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 543(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 543(@300wpm)
I give an unapologetic shrug. “Nana always said the customer is always right.”
My mother’s mouth works like a guppy for a little before she swings on her heel. The bell above the door jingles with such abuse that it draws the attention of even those not invested in Tina’s appearance.
“Well, that was . . .”
“Tina,” I answer succinctly.
“And I thought mother-in-law jokes were a load of rubbish.”
24
Kennedy
Past
LESS THAN PERFECT
“But why do we have to go out in the rain?” My little body jerks as my mother pulls the sides of my coat tighter. It’s covered with cherries the same colour as her lipstick, and when I move, it crackles like a rain jacket. It’s my favourite thing ever because my nana bought it for me.
“Because Mommy has to go and meet a man.”
“What man?”
“A man Mommy used to work for.”
“Why? Are you getting another job with him?”
“Can you give the questions a rest for a minute, kid?” Over her dark glossy head, Chris scowls. We used to live with David, but now we live with Chris. Chris likes my mom, but he doesn’t like Holland and me, but that’s okay because we don’t like him either. Only Mommy does. She likes him a whole lot. “I suppose you’re leaving the other one with me.” He pulls an angry face at me like the meanest kid in class.
“No, my mom’s coming to pick her up. She’ll be here soon.” Her eyes flicker in that way that I know means she’s lying. I feel good and bad about it because I know lying is wrong. But I also know I’d feel sad if Holland went to Nana’s without me.
“Good,” he grunts. “The pair of them are nothin’ but a drain. Always talkin’ or crying. Crying or talkin’.”
Momma rolls her eyes as she springs to her feet. “I won’t be late.” She takes my hand and pulls me out into the rain.
We drive for a while, the wheels whispering on the wet roads as the radio plays the kind of songs that I like but Chris doesn’t. I wiggle my toes to the tune, but I don’t sing along because last time, Mom said my singing sounded like someone was killing a hog. Chris laughed, I cried, and Mom said she’d give me something real to cry for if I didn’t quit.
We arrive at a big building surrounded by a wire fence. At the security gate, Mom tells a man in uniform we have an appointment. I don’t like the way he stares at me as he lets Mom drive through. We drive around a brick building, through the empty parking lot and pull up next to a car. It’s blue and shiny and has a cat on the hood that I know better than to touch.
“Remember what I told you in the car,” Mom says, dropping down to my height outside of the big wooden doors. She slides her hand down one of my pigtails, tugging my head sideways. “You hear me?”
I nod and whisper yes because I’m trying to be a good girl, even though I never quite seem to manage it. We need money so we can leave Chris’s house and get a house of our own. And I want that because I like Chris about as much as he likes me. The man we’re going to see owes Mom money, and I have to be a good girl, or we might not get it. So I have to try really hard and concentrate on what Mom is telling me.
“He promised me things and now it’s his time to pay. You’re going to help him do that, right Keke?”
I nod again because I know my part.
We step out of the elevator car and into a dark hallway. My shoes echo on the polished wooden floor. The door at the end of the hallway opens, the shape of a big man filling it. His eyes watch me in a way that makes my tummy feel funny.
“Tina.”
“Hello, Joe.”
Whadaya know, Joe, echoes my nana’s voice in my head. I miss my nana. I hope she comes to take us back soon.
“How’ve you been?”
“Oh, you know. Busy.” My mom has a pretty smile, she has a nasty one too, but most people don’t get to see that one. “How’s Deborah and the kids?” Her tone tugs at my attention. It seems she doesn’t save her nasty smile just for me.
“Now, Tina, don’t be like that.”
“I’m just asking how they are, Joe. It’s not like I turned up to your McMansion and asked them myself.”
“No.” His eyebrows pinch. “Because you said you wouldn’t do that, remember?”
“I remember. And I won’t. At least, not right now. But that’s not what we’re here to talk about, is it?” She plants her palm between my shoulder blades and pushes me forward. “Joe, this is my Kennedy.”