Chapter 5
Emma
I run through Mercy’s front door and drop my bag in the entryway as I kick off my shoes. “I’m here. You can go.”
Mercy emerges from her bedroom in skinny jeans and the cutest ankle boots I’ve ever seen. “You like?”
“Holy hotness. Where did you get those boots?”
She lifts her foot and does a little kick. “TJ Maxx. $14.99, baby.”
I’ve never been more grateful that we’re the same shoe size. “You know I’m borrowing those, right?”
She shrugs. “Since my date isn’t here yet, and you’re not officially late, I suppose that’s a possibility.”
“I know, I’m sorry for cutting it so close. My last delivery took forever because the lady couldn’t figure out how to unlock the office door to let me in.”
Mercy quirks an eyebrow like she thinks I’m lying. “The woman didn’t know how to open the door to her own office? How does she go home at night?”
“I asked her the same thing, believe me.” I grab a beer from Mercy’s fridge then walk to her couch. “I was annoyed as hell by the time she finally got somebody to open the door. But I guess there’s a back entrance that goes down a service hallway and opens up to the employees-only parking lot. So she’s never had to open the front door after hours. It was a cluster.”
“Well, I’m glad you made it.” Mercy reaches for my beer and takes a swig.
“Yeah, thank god your date’s late too.” I look at my watch and then back at Mercy. “Is that okay? I know how you value punctuality in a partner.”
She rolls her eyes at me and waves off my remark. “Right now, all I value in any partner is a nice body and decent breath. Beyond that, I’m can’t be too picky.”
“Probably for the better.” I look around the room in search of my little buddy. “Where’s Owen?”
She holds her finger up to her lips to shush me and then waves for me to follow behind her into his bedroom.
Owen, Mercy’s nephew, has a box full of family photos scattered on the floor and is busy arranging them on decorative paper.
I give my best friend an incredulous look and then step back into the living room with my hand on my hip. “You have him scrapbooking for you?”
“He loves it. Kids love craft projects, and I have about five hundred printed pictures that I’m never going to do anything with.” She gives me a victorious smile. “Win-win.”
Owen is one of my favorite people. He’s only been living with Mercy for a few months now, but during that time, we’ve gotten pretty tight. Mercy’s sister has been fighting addiction and depression for years and lost her parental rights after Owen didn’t show up to school for a week. Child Protective Services found him locked in an apartment with hardly any food and his mother unconscious in her own vomit. She’s in rehab now, and we all hope she pulls through this for her sake and for Owen’s. But for the foreseeable future, Mercy is his parent. And as her best friend, I feel a responsibility to help her out as much as possible.
After Mercy’s date arrives and they take off, I make my way to the kitchen and fix some dinner. Mercy keeps the cabinets stocked with easy food that Owen likes. It’s not gourmet, but I’m more of a takeout girl myself. If I’m cooking, fast, kid-friendly food is fine by me. Once dinner is ready, I call him to the table.
Owen comes running from his bedroom and plops down in a chair at the table in the small dining area. “That smells good.”
“It is.” I slide a plate of broccoli and mac & cheese in front of Owen then sit down across from him with my own plate. “So, what’s on the agenda for tonight, kiddo?”
He shovels a few bites into his mouth before stopping long enough to respond. “I need to study for a spelling test, but we can watch TV instead if you want?”
“Nice try, kid.” I pick up my fork and dig into the culinary masterpiece I’ve created. “How about we study first, and after that, if it’s not too late, we can watch TV. Sound good?”
“I guess.” He begins shoveling food into his mouth like it’s a timed race. He hasn’t even chewed or swallowed before he’s pushing another mouthful inside.
“Whoa, whoa there.” I reach out and still his hand before the fork makes it to his face. “Slow down or you’ll give yourself a tummy ache.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy. “You don’t get a stomachache from eating too much, you know. You get a stomachache from not eating enough.”
Right.
He’s still getting used to the idea of always having food in the kitchen and a safe place to sleep. I let go of his hand so he can take the bite. “You’re not going to leave the table hungry, I promise. Just slow down so you don’t make yourself sick.”
He rolls his eyes and makes a point of chewing each bite before swallowing and taking another one.
“Much better.” I take a bite and chew slowly, even going so far as to rest my fork on the plate between bites. “You know, when you grow up, you’re going to need good table manners. Chicks don’t like guys who eat quickly because it makes them feel like they’re eating too much.”
He furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t get it.”
I wave my hand to dismiss my strange analogy. “Just eat slower, kid. There’s plenty of food so you can have as much as you want. Just not all in the next thirty seconds.”
He giggles and nods his head as he chews his next bite. He’s eight, but not as well-developed as some other eight-year-olds I’ve seen. Unfortunately, I think his emotional and developmental growth was a bit stunted because of his neglect.
“And, if you do a good job studying for spelling, we might even have time to bake some cookies.”
Owen’s eyes grow wide as he starts shoveling food into his mouth again. Shit, that didn’t work out at all as I planned.
“Wait, sorry. How about, while we’re studying, I’ll make the cookies and they’ll be ready when we’re done?”
“Deawwl,” he says with an overstuffed mouth.
We clearly have some work to do on those table manners.
~**~
Owen is finally asleep, and I’m about to dig into a Real Housewives marathon when the door pops open, and Mercy comes inside.
“You’re home early…”
She slams the door and leans up against it as she unzips her boots. “Why are men such assholes?”
“Oh no. What happened?” I pull my feet up under my thighs so there’s room for Mercy to join me.
“First, he used a coupon to pay for dinner.” She places both hands on the back of the couch and leans forward to emphasize her shock. “A coupon! Then, when we walked to the coffee shop down the street, he asked if I wanted to get the coffee since he paid for dinner.”
I have to bite my lip to hold back a smile. Mercy has had some awful luck with men lately. I feel bad for her, but there is a certain comic relief I appreciate from her stories. “Well, not everybody is wealthy. Maybe he’s a great guy who just doesn’t have a lot of cash at the moment.”
“That’s fine.” She holds up a hand to appease me. “I don’t care about that. But as soon as we got into the movie, he held my hand for about three seconds before resting it on his hard-on. Can you believe that asshole? Dude wanted me to jerk him off in the damn movie.”
I finally burst out laughing. “Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been the first time in that theater.”
She rolls her eyes and then comes to join me on the couch. “If he wanted action, he should’ve thought about that before making me buy his damn mochaccino.”
I peel myself off the couch and stretch my arms and back. “So, you working tomorrow night?”
“Yep. Is that still fine for you?” She looks nervous as she asks if I’m going to flake on her.
“Of course. You know I have no life. I’ll be here by six.” By day, Mercy works as a waitress for a bar and grill we’ve been going to since we were in high school. But two nights a week, she supplements her income by dancing. She started stripping after Owen moved in with her so she could afford afternoon day care and his sports classes. He’d never been exposed to team sports and having him in soccer and karate has made a big difference in his confidence level.
But it’s also made quite a dent in her checking account. So, on the nights she has to shake her ass for a few hundred bucks, I watch Owen. In exchange for me not flaking, which I never would, she gives me ten percent of her tips for the night.
It’s worked out pretty well for both of us.
“I’ll be here tomorrow. Get some rest while you can.”
She pulls me into a big hug and kisses my cheek. “Thanks, sweetie. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“To start, you would miss the chance to get felt up in movie theaters or to buy sleaze balls their girly coffees.”
“True that!” She forces out a sad laugh as she opens the door for me.
I give her another quick kiss on the cheek as I head out, eager to climb into my own bed. It’s been calling out to me all night from my bedroom just two doors down the hall. “Night, hon. Tomorrow will be a better day!”