Page 20 of Little Sunshine

The woman’s expression swapped from curiosity to distaste in an instant.

And the older man’s glare tightened like he was trying to shoot lasers out of his eyes.

Yup, they definitely know my mother.

Before anyone else could speak, an older woman pushed through a swinging door behind the bar. Her eyes landed on me, and she froze mid-step. “Whatever cookies you’re selling, Girl Scout, we don’t want ’em.”

Ohhhhkay.

So much for a warm welcome and helpful assistance.

The man looked at her. “She’s looking for Roni.”

Before more insults could be flung my way, a woman flopped onto a stool and nearly fell from it. She turned and nearly fell again. “Roni? What do you want with her?”

Revenge for my damn peanut butter.

“She’s my mother,” I said instead.

I expected her to be skeptical. After all, if she was my mother, why would I need to search for her in a dive bar?

But the woman must’ve known her well because she wasn’t fazed by the estrangement. “I see it. You’ve got her eyes.”

Our blue eyes were the only trait we shared. That and our poverty-chic frames.

The woman picked up her beer. “But Roni hasn’t been around for a while. She’s living with her new man.”

Unsurprising.

“Do you know where?”

She preened, like having the knowledge made her special. “Of course I know where my best friend lives.”

Such is the manipulative power of Veronica Rogers.

I didn’t bother to tell her that Veronica didn’t have friends. She didn’t care about anyone unless she had something to gain from it.

Including her own daughter.

The woman took out her cell and touched the screen a few times before turning it my way.

The fact Veronica had a new man was predictable. But my jaw hit the floor, and my disbelief reached an all-time high when I saw the address where she was supposedly staying.

My first lead, and it’s one of Veronica’s embellishments.

“You got your answer. Now go,” the older man bit out before I could question the woman further. He looked two seconds away from siccing the bouncers on me. The threat on his face was followed by an outright one. “I’m not gonna say it again.”

Even though I doubted the address was legit, I gave a small nod and thanked the woman before hightailing it out of there.

I walked down the street toward the bus stop, trying to decide what to do.

It was unlikely the fake address would lead to anything. It was a waste of time and money. If I was smart, I’d go home, grab the metaphorical scissors, and cut her out of my life for good.

Yet when the bus stopped in front of me, I climbed on.

What do I have to lose? She’s already stolen everything.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

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