Hung Out: A Needles and Pins Rock Romance (14 page)

“Scarlette. Sometimes the best way to get over someone is to be with them. Just remember that.”

A mouthwatering aroma
tantalized and confused me when I woke. And then remembering my mother was a guest in my house befuddled me even more. Truthfully, my mother had cooked breakfast on occasion. And that occasion had generally been a scruffy rocker with bedhead sitting across the table while he and school-aged Scarlette scooped up the atypical meal of omelets or waffles.

This morning, it was pumpkin pancakes with whipped cream sans shirtless rocker.

“Smells good.” I folded my tablet open to a text. I had been one of a few students to get a jump on the next semester by picking up a syllabus in one of my harder classes the moment my schedule was confirmed. The previous night after my mother departed to the couch, as Christmas Eve ticked into Christmas Day, I’d downloaded the textbook. I’d also texted Gage back a simple, ‘You too.’

I poured two glasses of orange juice while Henni dished up two plates.

“Did you go to the store?” I wondered between mouthfuls of the gooey goodness.

“Yes. And that reminds me.
What
are you driving?” The disdain in Henni’s voice was accompanied by mock shock on her features. Scrubbed free of makeup, even after the abuse her body had been through, she appeared ten years younger.

I lifted a brow right back. “You took my car?”

“Well I didn’t walk.”

I rolled my eyes and refrained from mentioning a taxi or Uber. With a forefinger, I swiped a page in the textbook.

“I thought you were going to buy a nice car.”

“That
is
a nice car. What is it with everyone and my damn car?”

“I can’t speak for ‘everyone.’ But you deserve nice things. You’ve worked hard.” My mother sent a pointed look to the tablet. “Can’t you put that away for ten minutes? It’s not good for digestion.”

“What kind of car did you get?” Turning the conversation around, I attacked.

“A pearl Aston Martin.” Henni was understandably wary when she mentioned the luxury vehicle. “I got a job.”

My mother’s employment was as surprising as everything else that had happened in the course of this visit. I opened my mouth to ask questions. To be encouraging. Instead what came out was, “A six figure salary, I’m presuming? To afford that car?”

“Not that it’s any of your business. But I bought the car with the documentary money.”

The mention of the documentary dulled my appetite. And I really wanted to enjoy the pancakes. “Tell me about your job.”

“I’m the event coordinator at one of the resorts.”

“That’s great! Do you like it?”

When my mom didn’t answer right away, I looked up and felt silently chastised for keeping my eyes glued to the tablet screen.

“It’s Christmas.” Having cleared her plate, Henni set her fork down. Since we opened all of our presents, why don’t we go out? Walk on the beach or something?”

“I really need to get a jump on this. This class is going to be hard.”

“You graduate this time, right?” She asked and when I nodded, again turning her attention to the technical jargon, Henni stood, stacking our plates. “I’m proud of you, Scarlette.” She squeezed my shoulder in passing. “Give it a break on Christmas. Okay?”

“Mom, I just told you―”

“I know what you told me. It’s bullshit! You’ve always studied on Christmas. You can’t say that was necessary when you were a kid! And I guarantee you it’s not now! So whatever this drive is you have going on that makes you do this, stop it. Please. For one day.”

“Fine.” I snapped the cover closed. “We’ll go to the beach.”

“I have a better idea.” Henni suddenly seemed giddy. “I’ll drive.”

The dealership was deserted
. Row after row of gleaming Porches waited Christmas Day out. The closed status and the metal gate didn’t stop Henni who clambered over.

“C’mon! Did you ever get a favorite color? Or are you still into black?”

“There are cameras…”

“So? Who’s going to arrest Tyler Conterra’s kid on Christmas Day?” Henni curved a mischievous smile. “Let’s look at cars!”

“I wasn’t going to buy a Porsche.” Traffic buzzed on the avenue behind me. In front of me, stood my mother. The afternoon sun lit the salon highlights in her styled hair and lent a rosy hue to her cheeks. Her eyes danced and her expectant smile drooped a bit. “Okay. You know what? Let’s look at cars.” I stepped over the blockade.

Henni hooked an arm with mine. We strolled to a row of sleek black cars.

“Why are we here again?”

“We’re looking. And then tomorrow or the next day, we’re coming back to one of these places and buying your car.” Henni gestured again for me to join her on the other side. “Did you know the week after Christmas is the best time of year to buy a car? That ought to appeal to your responsible side. The dealer told me that when I bought mine.”

“But you didn’t wait.”

“Why wait for something you can have now?”

“Not you. That’s for sure.”

“And not you. Scarlette Fuckin’ Conterra doesn’t live in a tiny apartment and drive some secondhand shit car.

“Really? Then why did I do just that for years? Why was Scarlette Conterra working her own way through college?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that. I thought the money would last longer. But things happened.”

“Yes!
You
happened.”

“Look, Scarlette. I know you think it was irresponsible. The amount of money I went through―”

“It was!”

“It was. I agree. Looking back, yes it was extreme. Yes, I regret a lot of it.” Here she paused and leveled her best mother look. “But I don’t regret all of it.”

“I’m curious what you don’t regret.” When my mother flipped her shades down over her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, I pursued. “As someone who pays your rent—who’s always paid your rent—and knowing I’ll be paying more of your bills before it’s over, I deserve to know what you don’t regret and why not.”

“I lived! I lived life each day to the max. I didn’t miss out on what I wanted. You want to know why I dated rockers? Because they live their lives at full volume! And that’s how I lived. It’s how I felt alive. You on the other hand, I believe you’re doing the opposite of what you want to do. And you’re miserable for it. Always studying. Writing papers. Taking tests.”

“You’re wrong. I’m about to graduate and do something I’ve always wanted to do. All the studying is about to pay off.”

“Really? Have you always wanted to rehab people hooked on junk? Or have you always wanted to balance your little corner of the universe? An addiction to drugs took your father away, so you cure addiction to drugs?”

When she didn’t receive an answer, Henni went with a calmer approach. “Scarlette, you’re a musician. Don’t waste that talent away because of some fear you developed while being exposed to the worst of that life.”

In going up one row and down another, we’d made a loop. Quickening my steps, I hopped the gate and hurried to the car, slipping into the driver’s side. I was left alone with my thoughts for a good few minutes before my mother opened the passenger door. Without saying anything, she passed the keys over.

We were quiet on the drive home. I passed the BMW dealership without stopping, and my mother made no argument.

Henni did request one stop. A liquor store. She ran in and returned, tossing the bag into the back. “Eggnog.”

I refrained from wrinkling my nose. Even though it was not much more than a speck in front of my house the moment I turned on my street, the familiar white car caught my attention and I groaned aloud. This was the first time I’d seen it in several weeks and I’d hoped he’d given up on me.

“What’s wrong?” Henni wondered.

“That white car. The man is pretty much Grade A stalker paps. You’d think he’d have family to keep him busy on Christmas.”

Henni’s gaze narrowed as we drew closer. As usual, I flipped my visor down and whipped into the driveway as quickly as the automatic gate would let me.

As was normal, we took the back way into the house. I was on the upstairs landing, unlocking the apartment door when I noticed the bag containing the liquor and eggnog sitting at the base of the stairs and the front entry cracked open.

I debated between retracing my steps to the first floor, and going into the apartment. Crossing the main room, I peered out the window and froze at the scene below.

Henni stood in the street, hands on her hips, leaning into the window of the white car. Then her arms began to wave wildly in clearly furious gestures accompanying whatever she was saying. Whirling around, she stomped back across the street toward the walkway. Henni had just closed herself inside the property when, behind her, the car’s engine revved to life, and the tires screeched as the car burned rubber, quickly vanishing.

“Mom. What the hell?” I rushed to the hall landing, and relieved my mother of the shopping bag as I chastised. “He could be dangerous. In fact, as weird as he is, I’m willing to bet he is.”

“Well he has no business watching you like that.”

“Yeah. But I’ve got a bodyguard downstairs who lives to chase him away.”

“And yet he wasn’t chased away…”

“I’m sure the resident muscle is enjoying Christmas with his family.”

“And leaves you vulnerable to the psychos on the street?”

“Mom! It’s not like that. Okay? I don’t need a damn bodyguard. Gage and…” Here I stopped before mentioning my ex-stepfather to my mother. “Gage was being overprotective. That’s why the guy lives downstairs. But he’s not round the clock security.”

Henni mixed the eggnog while we bickered, and I downed a mug. Surprisingly, it was tasty.

When Logan paid a surprise visit, I was glad for the distraction. I introduced him to my mother, and Henni insisted he have eggnog.

“Did you get a look at that Social Order syllabus?” Logan sipped and made conversation.

Henni slapped her cup against the saucer and rolled her eyes. “Do you study on Christmas too, Logan?”

“No, ma’am. I…” Logan seemed part embarrassed and part intimidated. He set his cup on his saucer with a much quieter clink than Henni had. “I, uh, actually came by to see if Scarlette…” He realigned his eyes from my mother to me. “If you wanted to go out with some kids from school. But I didn’t know your mom was here. I should get going.”

“Who’s going out?” I asked and listened to the details, yearning at this opportunity to have some peace away from my maternal parent.

Henni urged me to go if I wanted to. “Go, dear. Have fun. I have a few books downloaded that look good.”

In the end, I reminded myself that my mother had only been here for two days and would be spending only one more night after tonight. I turned Logan down, but as had become common, walked him outside.

“Your mom’s a character.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad she’s here. I was afraid you were spending Christmas alone.”

“That’s sweet of you. Thanks for thinking of me.” Then a worrisome thought struck me. Had Gage’s text the night before been a lonely text? Was Logan checking to make sure I wasn’t lonely and pining away the holiday because Gage was? “Gage go to his dad’s for Christmas?”
Or is his dad out of town as usual?

“He and Mr. Remington went skiing in New Mexico.”

“Oh. Good. I just… Well, holidays are hard. I imagine especially to someone recovering.” I tried to excuse my questioning, but just wound up feeling like an ass.

“Merry Christmas.” Logan reached in his pocket and withdrew a small box tied up with a ribbon.

“You didn’t!” I refused to take it, racking my brain for anything I had inside the apartment that could be a return gift. Why hadn’t I bought him a gift? He was around at least once a week. Maybe I could give him Seth’s bracelet and buy Seth another before I saw him…

“Open it tonight.” He shoved it in my hand and bounded down the stairs. Turning to wave, he repeated, “Merry Christmas!”