Page 100 of Look at Her and Die

“One time,” he said as he reached for my hand, “my mom tried to have my bike towed. The guy gets here, then sees whose bike he would be towing, and refused to take it. He came up to the front door and apologized, then asked for some money to compensate him coming all the way out here for nothing—she was hoping by calling a farther away towing company that they’d get it, no questions asked. I gave him a fat tip, then laid into my mother. From that point on, I promised to stay the hell away from her.”

“She sounds lovely,” I teased.

“She’s not,” he grumbled as he tugged me toward the door. “Good luck.”

I had a feeling I was going to need it.

Twenty-Seven

I don’t know how to act around warm bread.

—Posy’s secret thoughts

POSY

“Hey, darling.” My mother’s sugary sweet voice filled the air as she pulled open the front door. “I’ve missed…”

She took in my appearance, and her eyes went angry and hot.

She hid it well, though.

My mother, who was a little over five-foot-two, couldn’t overpower me—and never really could. But she could hold a mean grudge, and her payback was creative.

“What are you…” she started again, then she saw the hand linked in my own, and her mouth went tight as she trailed off mid-sentence.

I’d thrown her for a loop.

She hadn’t expected me to bring a date, and she hadn’t expected me to show up looking like I did.

I inwardly grinned, because I knew if I’d done it outwardly, she’d lose her shit.

At least with people here—she had a full driveway of luxurious cars—she couldn’t cause the scene I knew she wanted to cause.

If it was just family, she’d have had absolutely no issue with it.

But having guests meant she played her role.

“Hi, Ms. Dunlap.” Searcy cheerily waved. “How are you? It’s nice to finally meet you. Doc’s shared so much about you.”

I had to inwardly laugh again.

Searcy never called me Doc.

It was always Posy.

Hell, she even corrected people when they called me Doc—at least normal people. She let my club brothers call me Doc without a problem.

So for her to refer to me as such had my insides cackling.

“Doc,” my mother repeated.

“Mom, it’s unseemly to hold us here standing on your doorstep. Where are your manners?” I quipped.

My mother jerked forward like she’d been shot, and I allowed my lips to tip up at the edges.

Yeah, that got to her.

She hated appearing rude in front of guests.

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