100 PROOF Page 13

  That was right. He had a full schedule this week. From Texas to New York, to Washington, and even North Carolina. The list went on. It was Monday, and he wouldn’t be returning until Saturday. I was somewhat relieved about that.

  I hated looking at him, knowing what I’d done behind his back. It was wrong, and I refused to let it happen again. It was a good thing Vin didn’t live here in Texas; otherwise this would have made things messier than they needed to be.

  All I had to do was get to our wedding day, say I do, and things would change. They had to. Vin would back off, I’d be able to move forward, and my promises would be kept.

  “I’ll be flying out for my Mom tomorrow,” I said, sliding out of the bed.

  “Oh yeah? What time?” he asked.

  “Nine.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “Thursday.”

  “Good. I need you back by Saturday. My mom wants to take us somewhere to talk about the flowers and color scheme again.” He stepped into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist.

  I didn’t get the urge to peel it away, and knowing it made me cringe inside. If it were Vin . . .

  No—forget that thought.

  I had to stop thinking that way.

  “I’ll be here.”

  He walked towards me and tipped my chin, running his lips over mine. “You know I’ll miss you, right?”

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “I know.”

  “The day I marry you is going to be the best day of my life.”

  I smiled. “It will be mine, too.”

  “Come shower with me.” It was a demand, not a request. I followed him into the bathroom, and we showered together, but as he spoke about his flights and how exhausted he was from just thinking about it, I couldn’t stop thinking about my flight to California. I was going for Mom. I had to.

  I hadn’t been back there since I left Vinny. A lot was going to strike me, and a thousand memories were definitely going to bombard me, good and bad.

  If I didn’t have to go, I wouldn’t. But Mom needed me, and I promised I would show. It was time to tug on the big girl panties and get it over with.

  • • • • •

  On Tuesday, I landed in California with a pair of Ray-Bans on and my favorite yellow sundress—the very dress I wore when I left this state. I dragged my suitcase on its wheels behind me, clutching the handle tight as I checked in for my rental car.

  After tossing the bag in the trunk and starting the car, I was on my way to pick up Mom. She’d moved to apartments in a nicer part of Santa Ana. I made sure she had a nice place after finding out the bad news.

  I parked in the neighborhood and killed the engine, walking to the elevator and jamming my thumb on the second floor button. I gripped the keys tight in hand, waiting for the doors to draw apart.

  My cousin, Ryan, was the one who found this apartment, I had it paid for online and took care of the other bills for her as well. He checked in with her almost every day, called me when things were good or bad, but ever since he’d gotten a new job an hour away, he couldn’t drop everything and leave like he used to, which meant I had to step in now.

  I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. The last time I saw her, we didn’t exactly leave on good terms. She was heartbroken, and I was angry. I just . . . left.

  The doors finally pulled apart, and I stepped out, walking down the hallway to apartment 2G.

  I knocked softly, waiting, my heart beating a little harder. My palms had become clammy, damp with sweat. The door finally creaked open and there she stood.

  She looked . . . terrible.

  Dark rings circled her eyes, and she’d thinned out so much. Her hair was still brittle and dry, her lips chapped. She wore a long jean skirt and a red tank top with an American flag on it, along with red sandals.

  Her outfit was decent, but her skin was no longer like those oatmeal cookies I used to love. It was chalkier now. Her eyes seemed sadder, but when she saw me, her smile became so wide it masked the sadness, at least for the moment.

  “Oh my goodness,” she sighed, opening her arms and wrapping them around me. “My baby girl! Look at you!” Her voice was raw, like she wanted to cry. My eyes burned, but I held it together, hugging her back with a light pat on the back. I hadn’t seen her in three years.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  She pulled back a little, but held my upper arms, grinning. “Oh, honey, look at you. You just get more beautiful, the older you get.”

  I laughed and then she grabbed my hand, leading the way inside. “Come in, sweetie, please! Do you want anything? I knew you were coming, so I got your favorite soda!” She shut the door when I was inside and then stepped around me, walking to the kitchen.

  “Sure, that would be nice.”

  She nodded and walked around a corner. I followed after her, listening to glasses clank and then ice rattle. A soda fizzed open and she poured. I walked to the living room. The furniture was nice, brown suede, with wooden tables.

  Ryan did well picking it out. Either that, or he had his wife pick it for him.

  Mom came into the living room, holding the glass up. “Here you go. Come on,” she said. “Sit. We have an hour until my appointment. Let’s catch up a little.”

  I accepted the glass of Mountain Dew and sat beside her. I felt her staring at me as I sipped it, and even as I placed the glass down on the coaster.

  “So . . .” she started. “You’re engaged?” Her eyes moved down to the diamond ring on my finger and then up at me again.

  “Yep. His name is Lloyd. He’s a nice guy.”

  “Oh—Lloyd?” She looked confused. “That isn’t the name of the young man you brought around a few times before, is it?”

  I shook my head quickly. “No. You’re thinking about Vin. He’s—well, we broke up a few years back. Right before I left, actually.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I really liked him. And I could tell you loved him.”

  I struggled to smile. I had to change the subject. I wasn’t even in California for an hour, and he’d already come up in conversation. “What about you?” I asked. “How are you feeling? I mean, besides the . . .”

  “Cancer?” she filled in for me, like the word was just a word and not some terrifying disease.

  I nodded, avoiding her eyes.

  “You don’t have to be afraid to say it,” she stated. “I’ve accepted it.”

  I didn’t say anything, but only because I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Anyway,” she sighed. “I’ve been feeling okay. Just tired most days. Ryan is still a big help, even though he got that new job and all. He has Pam bring groceries and dinner by sometimes. I don’t really eat much, but I try.”

  “That’s good.” I paused, focusing on my pink fingernails. “And it’s . . . pancreatic?”

  She nodded.

  “I did some research on it. It has one of the lowest survival rates,” I noted.

  Her eyes widened a little, boring into mine.

  “I—I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that—”

  “No, it’s okay.” She smiled. “But didn’t anyone ever tell you I’m a fighter?” Her smile grew bigger, and I breathed a sigh of relief, smiling with her. She brought a hand up, placing a cold palm on my cheek. “It’s really good to see you, Marley. I never thought I would again.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Mom.”

  She looked me in the eyes, the expression on her face telling me she was searching for something. Or someone, rather. I knew there was something she really wanted to ask—something deep and something I didn’t want to talk about—so I picked up my drink and took a small sip before standing and walking to the kitchen.

  “Well, we should get going. There is probably going to be a lot of paperwork for us to do.” I poured the rest of the soda in the sink and placed the glass on the counter.

  “Right. Right!” She stood as well, grabbing her brown purse from the coat rack in the corner. I followed he
r to the door and out of the apartment, glad when she started talking about how nervous she was. I was nervous for her.

  Her chemotherapy officially started today. It was going to be tough, from what the doctor told me over the phone. Tough for her and tough to watch, but this had to happen. She had to survive. Though she wasn’t the best mother, I still loved her. I couldn’t just let her go out that way. Not without help or at least a fighting chance.

  The survival statistics looked grim, but I wasn’t afraid of a fight. She had to make it a little longer. She was my mother. She deserved a second chance.

  VIN

  The club was coming together nicely. We’d changed the paint, gotten new tables and chairs, and even got hooked up with recliner couches for our VIP floor from someone Zay knew from his house parties.

  Today, we had a few electricians hooking up the chandeliers for the VIP areas, as well as a few lights on the first floor for the bar and dance floor.

  “If everything is fixed up by this Thursday, we can open up on Saturday,” Bethany said, walking into the office with a clipboard in hand.

  “That’s a little too soon, don’t you think?” I asked, signing off on a few alcohol orders.

  “Yeah, it is,” Zay said. “We need to promote. Let everyone around Laguna and Santa Ana know about opening night. Pass out flyers, get more drinks—hell, there is a lot we need to do before we can open this place up to the public.”

  I nodded my agreement.

  “Well, then, I’ll start working on flyers,” she chimed, writing something down. “What do you want them to say? Just the club name?”

  “The club name, the grand opening date, and the address, as well as all of our social media handles.” She nodded as I spoke. I dropped my pen and pushed out of my seat as Zay walked out of the office.

  She watched him go and then tucked her pen behind her ear, smiling at me as she sat on the edge of the desk.

  “I think it’s really sexy when you talk business,” she giggled, looking me up and down.

  I wasn’t up for the banter today. Flirting wasn’t on my list of priorities right now. I needed to get the club ready and in mint condition. The last thing I wanted to be worried about was Bethany and her feelings for me.

  I started to step around her, but she caught my elbow. “Hey, what’s going on with you lately? You’ve been acting weird ever since you came back from Texas.”

  “How so?” I asked, as if bored.

  “Well, you don’t text or call me back about meeting up. We were hanging out and fooling around before, but we haven’t done that in a while.”

  “We aren’t a couple, Bethany.”

  “Yeah, I know we aren’t, but . . .” her voice trailed off. “I don’t know.” She stood up, shrugging it off. “I guess you’re just tired of me now. No big deal. I knew one of us would get tired eventually.”

  “Look, it’s not that. I’m just—well, we finally have the club. I’ve been working hard for this, and it’s finally happening and I’m trying to keep my distractions to a minimum. The launch of the club is the only thing I really want to focus on right now, you know?” That was a lie . . . sort of. I just didn’t want her. There was only one woman I wanted. Too bad she didn’t want me. “You just handle ordering our materials and managing our numbers. Be the kick-ass assistant we need.”

  She nodded. “Right. I can do that. I get it.” She ran a hand over my chest as she stood up. “But remember I’m always here if you need a little break from all of this. It can get really stressful.”

  As she said that, I heard something crash, followed by a loud yowl. Rushing out of the office, I hurried around the bar, spotting Zay sprawled out on the floor with shards of glass surrounding him.

  “Fuck!” he hollered.

  “Shit!” I hurried for him, stepping over the glass. “What the hell happened?”

  “I was bringing in the shot glasses and slipped,” he groaned, gripping his bleeding arm and staring up at one of the pipes. “We really need to get that fucking leak fixed, man.”

  “Oh my God, are you okay?” Bethany gasped.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Nah. You’re not fine. You’re bleeding a lot.” I moved his hand over and more blood started gushing out. “You’ll need stitches for that. It’s deep and it looks like there’s glass in the wound.”

  “Do I look like I have any medical insurance? They’ll charge me an arm and a leg just to be seen.”

  “Well, if you don’t get stitches, you’ll bleed out, dumb ass.” He laughed as I helped him to a stand. “Bethany, get me one of the towels behind the counter. I’m taking him to the hospital.”

  She nodded, dashing off and grabbing a towel. When she handed it to me, she asked, “Do you want me to tag along with you guys?”

  “No. I can handle it. Just make sure the electricians hang the lights correctly, and don’t let anyone in that doesn’t belong. Pablo is in the back in case you need some muscle.”

  She bobbed her head, panic in her eyes. “Okay.” I almost questioned if she could handle it, but I wasn’t up for her whining. She would whine and try and tag along and right now I needed her to stay.

  I put the towel on Zay’s arm, applying pressure. “Let’s go, klutz. Hold the towel down until we get there.” He rolled his eyes, making his way towards the exit and I sighed, following him out and pulling my car keys out.

  “Just don’t bleed all over my fucking seats,” I joked as I unlocked the doors.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he chuckled. “Just make sure you have some money ready when they send me the fucking hospital bill.”

  We climbed inside, and I started the ignition. “Don’t even worry about the bill. If we make as much money as we have planned with the club, I’ve got you covered.”

  • • • • •

  It took four hours for Zay to be seen and to get stitched up. He clearly hated hospitals. He complained the entire time, saying he was fine and that he was ready to go. I guess I couldn’t blame him. He’d lost a lot of people in his life, relatives and friends, and the result usually landed him in a hospital.

  It was around six in the afternoon when we were finally heading out. We walked down one of the main hallways, past the oncology wing, but as I passed, that’s when I saw a familiar woman through one of the windows. She was helping an older, thinner woman get a drink of water. The older woman was on IVs. I’d seen her before. I’d seen both of them.

  I had to do a double take, and even slowed down my walk, thinking I must be fucking crazy or had her too heavy on my mind. Day and night, she was all I could think about. Maybe I was delusional, thinking every woman with a bob haircut and a nice figure was her.

  But no.

  It was her. She turned and placed the water down and when I saw her angelic face, I stopped walking. She turned and said something to the older woman and then she came towards the door.

  “Yo, Vin, what the hell are you doing? Let’s get out of here!” Zay called from the exit.

  I looked from her to him, and then back at her again. She stepped out with a cellphone and car keys in hand.

  “Vin!” Zay shouted

  And she looked up, searching for the voice. When Zay spotted her, his eyes stretched wide, like he couldn’t believe who he was seeing. Marley stopped dead in her tracks, and then slowly turned her head, probably praying that she wouldn’t see me next.

  When her eyes met mine, she huffed a breath that sounded like “Fuck.”

  “Marley,” I called, taking a small step ahead. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She pursed her lips and looked towards the exit, like she wanted to make a run for it, but with Zay standing there, she wasn’t so sure.

  “I’m, uh . . . my mom is in there.”

  I looked through the window at the skinny woman. She didn’t look like that the last time I saw her. She’d lost a lot of weight. Too much weight.

  “She’s . . . sick?” I asked, and she winced a bit, but nodded.

 
; “Yes.”

  “Holy fucking shit! Marley!” Zay yelled, coming our way.

  She forced a smile at him as he stepped closer, holding his good arm open. She stepped into his arm and gave him a hug.

  “What the hell happened to you?” she laughed, pointing at his bandaged arm.

  “Dropped some glass at the club and fell on it.” He shrugged.

  “The club?” she questioned, brows dipping.

  “Yeah. We own a club now. Who fucking knew, huh?” he laughed.

  She laughed with him, a genuine, sincere laugh. “Wow, that’s great!” She looked over at me. “Why didn’t you tell me you opened it?”

  “Figured Mom or even Lloyd might have mentioned it at least once.” I shrugged a shoulder, sliding my fingers into my front pockets.

  Her face went blank, reality washing through again.

  “Hey, man, let me get the keys. I’ll wait in the car.” Zay held his free hand up in the air, and I tossed him the keys. “Good seeing you, Marley.” He took off right away, giving us privacy. He always knew when to leave.

  “I should go.” She stepped sideways.

  “Where are you headed?” I asked before she could get away.

  “Going to grab some dinner and then coming back.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your mother?”

  She looked at me with hard blue eyes. “I didn’t think I needed to tell you.”

  “Why wouldn’t you? She’s your mother. You care about her.”

  “Yeah, but . . .” She shook her head and sighed. “I can’t talk about that stuff with you anymore. My past. My parents.” She gripped the keys tighter in hand. “It was good seeing you, though, Vin.” She turned and started for the exit again, but I hurried after her.

  “Wait,” I called, and she glanced back. “Let me walk you to your car, at least.”

  She looked out the door, contemplating, and then peered up at me again. “You don’t have to. I can make it fine by myself.”

  I threw my arm around her shoulder, and she tensed up, but I kept walking, through the sliding doors and outside. “I know you’re fine walking by yourself, but I want to.”