Lola

YEP. MY LIFE could most definitely get worse.

I’d obviously done something to Karma during my thirty-two years of life, because that bitch was currently punishing me. After leaving KTSW on the threat of getting security involved if I didn’t go peacefully, I’d gone back to my apartment to start my forced vacation time, only to discover that I had another visitor.

I’d opened my front door to the shriek of “My baby!” and barely managed to swallow my groan before my mother came charging into the entryway and nearly crushed my ribs in a hug.

“Ma,” I wheezed, all the air being squeezed from my lungs as she tightened her embrace. “Need… air….”

She finally unlocked her arms, leaning back to hold me at arm’s length so she could study my face. I pasted a fake smile on my face only to have hers crumble in sadness. “Oh, my sweet pea. You look absolutely awful.”

My smile fell flat. “Thanks,” I deadpanned, dropping my purse on the entry table and kicking off my heels, bringing my mother and me eye to eye. “Just what I needed to hear.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” She waved me off and yanked at my arm, leading me toward the living room. “I just meant you look sad. But I’m here now, so no worries. A mother knows how to make everything better.”

My brother — the traitor — sat on my sofa, flipping through my TV channels while trying his best to keep from laughing at my plight.

“Speaking of you being here,” I stated as she headed for the kitchen and began puttering around. I’d only been gone for five hours max, yet my entire apartment already smelled like an Italian restaurant. “Why exactly is that? I thought you weren’t coming until Saturday.”

She pulled the lid off a Crock-Pot and gave the contents a stir with a large wooden spoon before placing it back down and wiping her hands on a tea towel. As far as I knew, I didn’t even own a Crock-Pot… or tea towels… or a wooden mixing spoon.

What the…?

I glanced around the kitchen to find several new cooking instruments scattered around the counter tops — instruments I’d never be able to use, seeing as I didn’t have the first clue how to cook.

“And where the hell did all this stuff come from?”

“Oh, that sweet man who works in the lobby was kind enough to run out and get me a few necessities when I discovered how lacking your kitchen was. Such a polite gentleman, that one. You know, maybe you should consider dating him!”

My opened and closed several times. “You mean Maury? Mom! He’s the doorman, not your personal errand boy. And he’s at least twenty years older than me!”

“And so complimentary,” she continued as if she didn’t hear me, a wistful look floating over her face. “A man like that would know how to treat a lady.”

Oh, sweet Christ. I didn’t even want to think about what that look on her face meant. It was taking everything in me not to gag.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear a word you just said and ask again, why are you here four days early?”

“Well, sweetie, when your brother called and told me everything that was happening with that dreadful Grayson Lockhart, I knew you needed me, so I changed my flight and got in about two hours ago.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Dominic and mouthed, “I’m going to kill you,” while dragging my index finger across my neck to show him I was serious. His throat bobbed with a thick, scared swallow before he diverted his gaze back to the TV.

I turned back to my mother, trying to adopt a calm demeanor even though that was mostly impossible where she was concerned. “Ma, you really didn’t need to do that. I’m fine.”

“Oh please,” she scoffed, still puttering around my kitchen like she owned the place. “I’m a mother. I know when my baby girl needs me.”

My eyes rolled to the ceiling and I shot up a prayer for patience. That or a lot of wine. I was going to need both if I was going to make it through a week and four days with my mother under the same roof. She was the boss under whatever roof hung above her head, always had been. Case in point, she’d only been there two hours and already she’d taken control of my kitchen and my poor doorman. I was going to owe Maury huge come Christmastime.

I reached for the bottle of wine I’d uncorked the evening before and pulled down a wineglass. “Well, you do… whatever it is you’re doing. I’m going to go relax with Dom.”

My mother turned to see me pouring a glass and gave my knuckles a warning smack. “Lola Arianna Abbatelli, it’s barely noon! You will not start drinking so early in the day. It’s undignified.”

“A pleasure as always,” I muttered dryly, then made my way into the living room, smacking my brother on the back of the head before sitting down next to him. “You asshole,” I hissed. “Couldn’t give a girl a warning?”

“Hey.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I sent you a text forty-five minutes ago. You never responded. And I didn’t want to warn you until Ma had the chance to finish preparing the pasta fagiolo. You know how much I love that stuff.” He rubbed his stomach for emphasis.

My forehead wrinkled as I mumbled, “I never got a text.”

Dom shrugged, then lifted the beer bottle in his hand to his lips and took a long pull.

“Ma!” I shouted in the direction of the kitchen. “Why does Dom get to drink but I don’t!”

Dom smirked at me, earning another smack on the head as my mom yelled back, “Don’t argue with me, Lola Arianna. I’m teaching you to act like a lady!”

“Mom loves me more,” he whispered under his breath, smirking once more. I stole the beer from him and downed the rest, then gave him a smirk of my own. No matter how old we got, my brother and I always reverted back to adolescent behavior when we were around each other. It was kind of fun… when he wasn’t annoying the shit out of me.

“Why are you home so early?” he asked a few minutes later after returning from the kitchen with a new beer.

I let out a weary sigh and dropped my head to the back of the couch. “They’re making me take the rest of the week off, said I needed to de-stress.”

“Why? What happened?”

I stayed in the same position, refusing to meet his concerned eyes as I replied, “I punched my boss in the face yesterday and broke his nose.”

“You what?”

My head shot up and I slapped my hand over his mouth. “Shh! Don’t let Mom hear you,” I hissed. “She’ll never let me live it down.”

Dom regarded me with wide eyes and gave his head a shake. “Holy shit, shorty. You broke your boss’s nose?”

“In my defense—”

“You can’t start a sentence like that and think it excuses you from anything.”

I reached out and gave the skin on the back of his arm a hard pinch, relishing in his grunt of pain before continuing. “In my defense… he deserved it. Only reason I didn’t get fired is because we were both in the wrong. I walked away with a slap on the wrist and three days’ mandatory vacation.”

“Could’ve been worse,” Dom grumbled, rubbing at his sore arm. “Christ, maybe they were right. Maybe you do need some time to de-stress.

“That’s exactly what I don’t need,” I whined. “I need to keep busy or I’m just going to think about… stuff. Now I’ve got nothing to keep myself busy with so I don’t have to think about stupid Grayson and his stupid good looks and—”

“And how much you miss him?”

I stopped, Dominic effectively taking the wind out of my sails. Seeing my need for it, he passed his beer bottle to me, and I took a pull. “Yeah,” I finally whispered. “God, everything’s so screwed up.”

He reached behind me and pulled me against his side so I could rest my head on his shoulder. “Well, look on the bright side.”

“What bright side? There is no bright side here,” I murmured, swigging back more beer.

“With Ma here, you’ll be so consumed with murderous desires you won’t really have any time to think about Grayson. See? Bright side.”

I giggled and passed the cold glass bottle back to him. “I don’t know which is worse, the downward spiral my life is on or the fact that Mom’s here for a visit.”

“Mom, definitely Mom.”

I stood from the couch, the beer I’d just drank on an empty stomach giving me a warm, floaty feeling. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up. I’m going to take a nice, long bubble bath. You know, give this whole relaxing thing a try.”

“I’ll holler when the food’s ready.”

I headed for my bedroom, stopping at the front door to dig through my purse for my cell phone, only to discover it wasn’t there.

“Shit,” I cursed, realizing I must’ve left it at the office. I let out a deep breath and continued on to my room. First my bubble bath, then my mother’s world-famous pasta fagioli. There was no way I could stay in a bad mood after a long bath and my mom’s amazing comfort food sitting in my belly.

I’d worry about my missing phone later.