Page 80 of Cocky Jerk

“Antonia,” she exclaims, rushing for me.

Don’t roll your eyes,

You need her to get your dad out of this mess you created.

“Mom,” I reply curtly as I rise to my feet. Her eyes slowly rake over me, and a slightly horrified expression settles on her face.

“What happened to you?”

“I’m having a rough day. Can we maybe skip the judgments?”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she argues. “You’ve been crying.”

Someone polish a trophy for her.

“Yeah, because the only parent who gives a damn about me is currently in a cell and the men who helped him raise me are either dead or in a jail cell next to his.”

I close my eyes, wishing the truth wasn’t so harsh.

The world a little less ugly.

I will not cry in front of her.

Drawing in a deep breath, I ignore the hurt reflected in her eyes. She doesn’t get to feel bad. She walked away from all of this, and she’ll walk away again.

“My dad pays you a lot of money, keeping you in those designer heels of yours. Earn them and keep him out of jail.”

She doesn’t make a move and I lose my patience with her. My gaze darts around the crowded precinct until it settles in on the cranky old desk sergeant who stole my melons. Brushing past my mother, I march toward her, recalling my last visit here and the pack of cigarettes I caught her pocketing. Before I can ask the broad if I can bum a cigarette from her, I hear a familiar voice call my name.

A voice that belongs to a man I wish didn’t exist.

“Antonia,” Marco repeats.

As if I didn’t fucking hear him the first time.

“We need to talk,” he says.

The man is clueless. If the world was burning to ash, and he was the last man standing, I wouldn’t waste my spit on him much less speak to him.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, but—”

Something inside me snaps and I turn around. Blinded by rage, I don’t even look at him as I rear my fist back and clock him in the jaw. His hand moves to his cheek and the entire precinct comes to a standstill as he stares at me with a look of defeat in those expressive eyes of his.

“You have no idea what I’m thinking!” I shriek. “I told you to leave me the fuck alone, and I meant it. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you…” my words trail as I shake out my throbbing fingers. “And there’s plenty more where that came from so if you’re smart, you’ll fuck off somewhere.”

He drops his hand from his cheek and squares his shoulders.

Why is he still standing here?

“I’m not going anywhere until you hear me out. I spoke to your father—”

A shrill scream leaves my lips as I plug my fingers into my ears and tune him out. He can take his excuses and shove them where the sun doesn’t shine. When his lips finally stop moving, I remove my fingers from my ears and turn my back to him. The desk sergeant stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind and I’m starting to wonder if I have.

“I know you smoke,” I begin. “I saw you with a pack of cigarettes the other day.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is, I’m sort of having a nervous breakdown and could really use a cigarette right now.”

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