Page 17 of Ride Me

He smiled, obediently wolfing down his meal before asking what needed fixing. It was the window unit. Again. This was what they did every time he came. The script was comforting, but he really wished she would let him change the scenery. “Have you thought about that place I was telling you about, Mama? The house? It’s still on the market and it’s got central air conditioning and ceilings that don’t leak like a sieve.”

She crossed her arms, the stubborn gesture all too familiar. “I raised my babies here. I know all my neighbors. What do I need with a big, drafty house?”

“Please Ma—”

A loud thumping, followed by an ear rattling drum solo interrupted him, and his mother sighed. “Maybe, okay? Maybe. We’ll talk about it later.”

Her maybe was the best news he’d heard all day. “Whenever you want.”

She muttered something about bossy children, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “So, who is she?”

The sudden change in topic startled him. “What? Who?”

She rolled her eyes. “You think I don’t recognize that expression you’ve been wearing for the last hour? I’m too old to know when my son is falling in love?”

Love? “My expression is heartburn. I ate too much too fast. I always do when I come here.”

“Okay, fine, don’t tell me. I only hope she’s good enough for you.”

Rousseau’s stunned silence made her smile fade. “You are a good man, Celestin.”

He chuckled, unable to hide the bitterness. “I’m glad you think so, Mama. But you don’t know—”

“I do know.” She crossed herself, mumbling a prayer under her breath. “I know all I need to. That my son does what he has always done. He protects the people he loves without thinking of the cost to himself. Am I sorry he carries such weight on his shoulders? Yes. Should I be ashamed of him for that? Never.”

Rousseau blinked rapidly. Was she saying she knew what he carried? But there was no way she could.

She reached up to fiddle with one of his dreadlocks. “You can’t hide underneath all this forever. There’s nothing for you to be ashamed of. You deserve to be seen and loved as much as anyone I know.”

His throat closed. Allegra had said something similar.

“Why do you hide yourself? What are you running from?”

The answer to both women was the same. He hadn’t cut his hair since his father died. He wore it the way he did because it put some people off. Made one or two look away, and that’s what he wanted. The less he was noticed, the better. He had control when no one noticed him.

It was a hell of a way to live.

“Mama, do you still have my clippers in the bathroom?”

She studied him thoughtfully. “Of course I do. Why?”

He forced a smile. “Thought it might be time for a change.”

By the time he’d cut off his locks and done a close trim of his hair, he’d felt like a new man. He couldn’t stop touching his head. Neither could his mother.

“She must be special.”

“She is.”

Her eyes sparkled with what he hoped weren’t tears. “Remember what I said, my angel. You are a good man. You deserve a life that truly belongs to you. If I could spare you—”

“Don’t say it please,” he begged, suddenly terrified. “I have to go. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

He walked away in a daze. His mother knew more than he ever imagined. At least, she knew some of it. Did she know how it happened? That it was his father who had given him this curse?

It had been seven years since the bastard died. Seven years since he’d discovered that, along with a few gambling debts and a paternity suit or two to pay off, his father had left him one more token of his affection.

A blood debt to a Loa who showed no signs of moving on once he’d gotten what he wanted from the ride.

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