Page 78 of Curveball
“Hey, babe, can you check that for me? I’m still waiting for my son to send proof of life.”
I pause in centering my tie and look around.Babe?My grin erupts like Kilauea, and sticks to everything. I’m babe, too.
Her phone’s still tethered with the charging cord, so I tug it free and open her messages app. One from Dylan, and another from some company. Damn telemarketers.
“You’re in luck, it’s him. Want me to read it to you?”
“Please. If I stop now, I’ll forget I only did one eye and I’ll walk around lopsided all day. It’s not a good look.”
I shake my head and hold back my eyeroll. But I do it grinning.
“Everything’s fine. I’m having fun. Don’t worry.”
“That’s it?”
“Verbatim.”
“Don’t worry, he says. When’s the last time he was a mom?”
“Do you at least feel better that you heard from him?” I move on to tying my dress shoes.
“Somewhat. It’s better than radio silence.”
“Marginally. You’ll have to beat the details out of him after he gets home.”
She scoffs lightly, but she’s distracted, concentrating on her eyebrow now.
“Hey, what’s West Coast Connection? Did you order something?”
It’s nosy, and I don’t make a habit of invading her privacy, but I’mbabenow.
“What’swho?What do you mean?”
“West Coast Connection. You have a message from them. Just curious.”
I’m more curious when she pauses. Turns away, then takes a deep breath.
“It’s . . . uh . . . Alejandro.”
My grin drops, and trickles into the wasteland.
“I thought you got rid of him. What does he want?”
She picks up a makeup brush and scrubs at her cheeks hard enough to remove skin cells.
“Babe?”
“I haven’t opened it yet.”
“I see.”
That’s a fucking bullshit response, and uncalled for.
“I’m sorry,” I say immediately. “That was?—”
“Right. You were right. I should have opened it days ago, but at first, I didn’t want to deal with it, and then, I didn’t want him to spoil the mood.”
She marches into the bedroom, yanks up the phone, and drills into the button that opens the app.
