Damaged and the Beast (Damaged #1)

Dad didn’t want me to leave. Knowing he didn’t trust my mother, I also suspected he feared without him around I would get into trouble. Yet mostly, he would miss the money I brought in from my waitressing jobs. My dad loved me, but he wasn’t the kind of man to let sentimentality get in the way of paying his debts. Dad had a lot of debts.

The bus finally arrived at my stop and I collected my suitcase then looked around for Mom. I saw a few women talking, but they weren’t waiting for anyone. Had Mom forgotten? Did she have second thoughts about me staying with her?

When a woman waved at someone behind me, I glanced around, but saw no one. Was she waving at me? Had my mom sent a friend in her place? Walking towards her cautiously, I was nearly on top of the woman before realizing she was my mother.

Still pretty in a rough way, Amy Jones Smith had bleached blonde hair and mossy green eyes. She looked worn down in a way I didn’t remember and I was surprised by how small she appeared. I had last seen her when I was thirteen, not really a child any longer. Yet, this woman looked like a tiny older version of the woman I never said goodbye to.

Based on her expression, I hurt her feelings by not recognizing her.

“I wasn’t sure because of the glare from the sun.”

Amy nodded, but I doubted she was convinced. Even if I was an above decent liar, my mom spent most of her life as a grifter and had a talent for seeing through people’s bullshit.

“Do you have everything?” she asked.

I had chosen that exact moment to lean in for a hug. An awkward few seconds passed while we embraced. Pulling away, I gave her a smile. “I have everything. Thanks.”

Nodding, she turned away and walked towards her car. It was an older sedan, but in good shape. I knew from my grandma how Amy worked in an office. She was clean now too. Living a respectable life was how Grandma Delta put it. I’d heard a hint of mockery in her tone, but was never sure why.

My grandma looked the role of a church-going, God-fearing, tax-paying citizen. In reality, I knew she spent most of her twenties running cons until scoring a mark that paid off big enough for her to retire. Now, she looked the part of anyone’s grandma, but she had the devil in her heart. She told me this last part during a visit when I smiled at her for too long.

Amy asked if I was hungry and I said yes. These were the only words we exchanged between the bus station and the restaurant near her apartment complex. Our apartment complex, I reminded myself. It had been a long time since I lived in a real home and I was excited to see my room. First, we sat in a small Mexican restaurant and avoided talking.

“How do you like your job?” I finally asked.

“Boss is a nag. Otherwise, it’s fine.”

“My interview for the job at Denny’s is scheduled for tomorrow.”

Amy nodded. “Don’t expect much tipping around here. College kids are cheap.”

For the next few minutes, I picked at my food while growing irritated by how Amy hadn’t asked about Tawny. She didn’t ask about me either, but I felt worse for Tawny. My sister was stuck with Dad who was hiding from criminals again. She didn’t know where they would sleep, when they would eat, and how long before they were running somewhere else.

“Tawny’s gotten tall,” I said when Amy remained silent through the whole meal.

“Brian is tall.”

Nodding, I waited for her to take the hint and ask about her daughter. Why didn’t she show any interest in the child she hadn’t seen in five years? Instead, my mother fell silent and never spoke again until we were at the apartment.

The dark brown apartment complex was spread out over a large area. There were two stories with our apartment on the bottom floor. Once inside, I found a small living room opened up to an even smaller kitchen. Down a little hallway were two bedrooms and one bath. One of the bedrooms was mine, holding a sparsely covered bed and a white dresser.

“I bought you a bed with the money your grandma sent. It’s used, but clean. I also got you a dresser. That’s new. Your grandma sent fifty dollars for you to use for school or clothes.”

Smiling at my mom, I suspected Grandma sent more than fifty. Likely a hundred with the assumption Amy would steal half of it. Grandma was good at sending money for school, holidays, and birthdays. As a grandmother, it was her job to do certain things and she took these responsibilities seriously. If we visited and someone commented on our ratty clothes, she would spend money to buy us new ones. Yet, if we were homeless and living in a car, it didn’t fall on her list of responsibilities so she wouldn’t even pay for a motel room. My grandma was weird that way.

“I go to work at eight and come home around four. I have my meetings and friends I spend time with. I won’t be around a lot. I can’t chauffeur you around, but there’s a bus stop down the street. I got you a bus schedule and you can make it to school with two busses. Three for work. The schedule is on your dresser.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

We shared another awkward embrace then she sighed. “I’ll need your rent by the first of next month. Your grandma told me you would pay half, so I moved into a bigger apartment.”