CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Sunday, however, things started to go south.
And when they did, they went fast.
The day began with Manda waking up with a hot, heavy man plastered to her back, snoring in her ear. They were naked, in bed... and Manda felt like crap. Her head ached, although in a different way from earlier in the week. Her mouth was dry and tasted bad, like something had crawled in there and died, and her stomach was in no better shape.
She thought back to the beer she'd drunk, and then the cinnamon shots with the old ladies that had seemed like such a great idea at the time. In retrospect, worst idea ever.
With all of this, she did not need a giant man-furnace snuggled up to her.
To make matters worse, when she came back from the bathroom, and dragged on a pair of yoga pants and T's Mariners' tee, so she could get to the kitchen and make coffee, her phone was buzzing and lighting up. T slept on, oblivious as Manda grabbed up her phone and squinted at the screen.
It was her mother.
Manda should have ignored the call, and returned it later when she felt better. But instead, she answered it, and carried her phone with her as she headed across the hall and into the kitchen.
Since none of the other Flyers or women were up at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, she had to snap the lights on. The instant she did, she wished she hadn't.
The big kitchen was a mess. The remains of their pizza supper littered the big table. The counters were littered with empty take-out containers, chip bags, dirty glasses and plastic cups, two half-empty booze bottles, and a bright red bra.
She didn't even want to know what that bra was doing in here.
Manda headed for the coffee maker, phone to her ear. "Hi, mom."
"It's about damn time I got hold of you," Arliss Kowitsky snapped, interrupted only by a hacking smoker's cough that took a moment. "Wouldn't even have known you was alive if I hadn't run into that friend of yours in the grocery store. What's her name—Louie or Lois or something?”
"Her name is Chloe." Manda opened the cupboard and got out the bag of coffee and filter. “And I texted you my new phone number, which I couldn’t do if I wasn’t alive.”
“Huh. She told me you're up in Spokane, of all places, and with another man." She said this last the way one might say 'another STI '.
"Yes, I am with another guy," Manda said defensively. "Seeing as how Tim dumped me, leaving me with one of his friends who turned out to be a sociopath. T-Bear rescued me, and—"
"T-Bear?" her mother repeated. "What kinda name is that? He some kinda pro-wrestler, or something?"
"What?" Manda rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "No, he's an auto-mechanic. T's just his nickname."
Arliss snorted. "Well, least this one has a job. You better hustle and get a job yourself, one you can hold onto, so when he pulls some crap, which they all do sooner or later, you can take care of yourself."
The coffee filter crushed in Manda's hand. "Yes, mom. I'm looking for a job. I don't expect him to take care of me."
"You better not, 'cause you can't trust this one to stay anymore 'n you could that Tim," her mother pointed out, already on her way down a path so deeply rutted and familiar, Manda knew she would not be diverted, so didn't even try. "I coulda told you that one was just like your father, only you never listen to me. You'd have kept that job cleaning the hotel, and not taken up with him, you'd still have money and your car. Now what've you got? Nothin', just another man to pick up after and try to sweeten up, that's all."
Manda selected a new filter, poured in coffee grounds, and started the coffee maker, her mother's words pouring into her ear, stinging but in such a familiar way that she kept listening, instead of doing what she should have done, which was to hang up the phone.
"And don't think you're gonna come and camp in my place when this don't work out," her mother finished sourly. "'Cause I'm barely scraping by as it is. Can't carry a grown daughter too."
"Don't worry, I know that," Manda said, wishing she was still in bed so she could pull the covers over her head.
Instead she leaned against the counter, eyes closed, and rubbed her aching forehead. Most people her age knew that if things got tough they could always go home until they got their feet back under them. But not her.
And that said, why the heck was she listening to the woman?
“Did you want something?” she asked. “Or did you just call to bitch at me, since that’s all I’ve heard so far?”
"Well!" Arliss huffed, "That’s gratitude for you. After all the years I—”
"Bye, mom." Manda ended the call, and pressed her lips together to still their quivering. "Great talking to you as always.”
“Next time, don't answer the phone, Manda,” she said to herself. “Just... don't answer her.”
Best idea she’d had yet this morning. And she had the whole day to go. Who knew where her new mojo might take her?
The only answer was the cheerful sputter of the coffee maker. Needing a distraction—any kind of distraction—Manda brought up her 'angry girl' music station on her phone, got a mug down to pour herself a much-needed cup of coffee.
Then, singing along to Pink, she got to work cleaning up enough of the stove-top that she could make herself breakfast. The garbage can was overflowing , but not her problem. Nor were the empties and the sticky countertops.
She hadn’t made the mess, she wasn’t cleaning up the mess.
T stumbled in several songs later, his hair wet and wild as if he'd tried to subdue it with water, and failed. He'd washed his face as well. A trickle of water was running down his collarbone, and his face was flushed. He wore only a pair of old work pants, but at least they were clean.
Having cleared the table of debris and washed it, because she couldn't bring herself to eat with garbage next to her plate, Manda was mixing eggs to scramble, along with toast.
T poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Mornin', babe," he croaked.
"Morning." She cracked a couple of extra eggs into the bowl, and added two more pieces of bread to the toaster.
She plunked his plate down in front of him, sat down and started on her own breakfast. He nudged her foot with his under the table. "Hey, you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, taking another bite of buttered toast.
"Huh. When a woman says that, don't it usually mean she’s the opposite?" His deep voice was wry, but she could feel him watching her.
"You're the expert, you tell me." She forked up another bite of eggs, and then let it drop to her plate.
She was no longer hungry. Maybe it was the big, hot lump in her middle. It felt a lot like dread. Shoving the plate away, she cradled her mug in her hands and sipped hot coffee.
"Oo-kay," he said. "Talk later then." He put his head down and ate.
Manda wrinkled her nose, guilt like an unpleasant taste on her tongue. “Sorry. My mother called. Always leaves me in a crappy mood.”
He looked up, chewing a mouthful, but his eyes focused entirely on her. “Not a good convo?”
She snorted. “You could say that. She… she basically wanted to remind me that I’m a huge screw-up, and that’s why bad things happened to me. Oh, and not to even think about coming back home, because she doesn’t have the—the room or the time for me.”
He was silent. then he slammed his fork down on his plate with such force that bits of egg flew into the air. “Sorry, ‘cause she’s your ma, but I gotta say, honey girl, the woman sounds like a fuckin’ bitch.”
Manga opened her mouth to say Arliss certainly could be one, but he wasn’t done.
“She’s lucky enough to have a daughter like you, pretty and sweet an’ hardworkin’—where the hell’s she get off, treatin’ you like that? Cheezus, all the parents whose kids treat ‘em like shit, steal from ‘em, ignore ‘em, and she gets you, an’ then acts like you ain’t good enough to walk in her door? Well, fuck that!”
Manda stared at him, her mouth open, her heart swelling painfully in her chest. “Um, that’s basically what my best friend Chloe says,” she said. “Although without the cursing.”
He nodded. “Glad you got a friend like that. She’s right, an’ so am I. And anyway, don’t worry about that shit, ‘cause you don’t need her. You got a place here while you need it, and friends, and you’re smart and tough. You’ll do fine.”
Manda nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
His eyes twinkled. “Hey, don’t thank me, thank my ma. She raised me right. Done it by herself and worked too. But she always had time for me. We had some good times.”
He shoveled in another bite and chewed. “You gotta meet her. She’ll love you. Loves jawin’ on the phone too. She’ll talk your ear off, all about recipes and clothes and shit.”
Manda had no idea what to say to that. Meet his mother?? Chat on the phone with her? Eeek.
She couldn’t even handle her own mother, much less the woman who had raised this man. She pictured a big, raw-boned woman with a booming voice and wild auburn hair coming at her, arms open to squeeze the life out of Manda if she treated her son badly. Shuddering, she drank her coffee.
Luckily, T-Bear was hungry, so he applied himself to his breakfast, not waiting for an answer. When he was done, he shoved his chair back and picked up his plate.
"Thanks for breakfast. I'm gonna shower. You wanna go for a ride on my bike later? We can ride out for a while, enjoy the day, and then find some place to have us a meal and some beers. End up back here for dessert." The mischievous note in his voice left no doubt what he meant by dessert.
Her own gaze focused on her coffee, Manda gritted her teeth.
Gah, he was being so damn nice.
Yes, she wanted to go for a ride on his bike. It was a bright sunny day outside, the breeze chasing little puffy clouds across the blue expanse of sky. And on his bike, she'd get to sit close behind him and hold on to his powerful body, revel in the wind blowing past them while he controlled his big, powerful motorcycle and shot them along the springtime road in carefree joy.
Contrarily, her own longing irritated the heck out of her. She didn't want him to be nice, she wanted him to be an asshole, so she could do what she needed to do and not feel like one herself.
Because no matter what, she had to do it.
She had to make him understand this thing between them was just temporary. It would end up being that way anyway—nothing this much fun was going to last.
Once the initial sexy glow wore off, his eye would be caught by another long-legged, big-boobed, botox-lipped stripper, like the one from last night.
And she, Manda, would be left standing devastated and alone, in his rear-view mirror as he peeled rubber away from her, fast as he could go.
And she'd be goddamned if she'd go through being abandoned by a man One. More. Time.
Nope to the nopity nope. This time... this time it would be her doing the leaving. Or at least the reminding that all they had between them was sex. Good sex, fantastic, toe-curling sex—but still just sex.
She lifted her gaze to meet his. "No, thanks," she made herself say through stiff lips. "I have to look for a job."
She knew she was ready, appearance-wise, because the evening before Sara, Lesa and Billie had assured her she looked fabulous, that the bruises were completely disguised by her makeup. The mirror had told her the same.
This morning, she hadn’t yet looked in one. Just as well, as she’d probably see bedhead, smudged mascara and bloodshot eyes.
His brows went up, his eyes twinkling the way she lo—liked so much. Like he knew a great joke, but was willing to share with her. "Babe. It's Sunday. Nobody's lookin' or hirin' today."
Manda's face flushed hotter than the coffee in her cup. "Oh, right," she mumbled. "Guess I'm free, then."
T-Bear chuckled. "Guess you are. And tomorrow, you wanna borrow my truck to go interview, just speak up."
Okay, there was no way she could hang onto her ornery after that, right? Right. She gave it up, although at the same time feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. "Thank you. That's really nice."
He held up a hand the size of their breakfast plates. "Babe. You call me nice again, not gonna be happy. Bikers are mean, badass daddies who roll how we roll, and do what we want and only what we want. The last thing we are is nice."
Manda stared at him, because seriously? She was pretty sure his picture was right after the word in the online dictionaries.
"Right then. Glad we got that cleared up." He pushed his chair back, rocking the table and their empty plates so the cutlery clattered.
Then he spoiled the effect by pausing to give her a wink before walking out of the room.