Page 92 of Late Bloomer
I stare at her, the icy edge of a knife slicing through my chest.
“But the problem is, the build got delayed. Not by much now, mind you, just a week. Maybe two. But our lease is up on our apartment. Oh my God, this apartment. Wish you’d have seen it. Two thousand square feet. Right in downtown Charlotte. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Living there had me feeling like one of the Real Housewives. Anyway, we didn’t renew thelease, obviously, because we thought we’d be able to move into our new mountain mansion. But you know how these things go, delays, delays, delays. So we’re in between spots and we sure would appreciate it if you could give us a little help. Maybe let us stay with you until it’s done? Or even if you know of a nice hotel in the area.” She gestures around at our beautiful surroundings. “I’d love your advice.”
There’s a beat of silence, my heart sloshing down to my knees, my fingers clawing at the skin of my cuticles. “You want money.”
And that does it, her temper sparking, nostrils flaring. That look hooks a chain into the center of my chest and jerks me back, whipping me into the past. Every harsh word. Every broken promise. Every moment of aching loneliness, whether she was next to me or not.
She tries to play it cool, but that always makes the explosion worse. “Pepper,” she says through clenched teeth. “I’d like you to shut your silly little mouth and listen to what I’m trying to tell you—”
“I know what you’re trying to tell me. I’m terrible at reading people, but I can read you, Mom. You make it so obvious.”
That fake smile falls, a deep red rushing up her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. “You better knock it off, young lady. You’re being extremely unlikable right now. If you’d—”
“I don’t want you to like me, Mom,” I yell, throwing my arms up and gaining more than a few looks. “I don’t give a fuck if anyone finds me likable. I just want you to care. I want youto care enough about your only child that you have even the tiniest bit of hesitation before hitting me up for money after abandoning me on a random doorstep.”
She grips my arm, ripping me into the nearest corner, eyes scanning the room as I garner more attention. “Shut your damn mouth right now, Pepper Anne. I didn’tabandonyou,” she spits, face getting close to mine as I shrink under her glare. “YouknowI’ve always done my best. Have I made mistakes? Sure. Of course. I’m only human. But am I not allowed any grace? Any room for error? What about the mistakes you’ve made? I never throw your greed in your face. The way you were always putting on airs. I’d never make you feel bad for that.”
“All you’ve ever done in my life is make me feel bad,” I say with a choked laugh, tears pricking at my eyes, a few falling down my cheeks. “Do you know how endlessly exhausting it is to be the child of a narcissistic con artist? My entire identity is tangled into this impossible web of your lies and what you want me to be. What role I’m supposed to play. I’m not some piece in your games, Mom.”
She leans toward me, eyes on fire, and I feel claustrophobic, like my entire being is shrunk down to the pinpricks of her pupils. Like I’m nothing but a speck, and she’s going to wipe me away.
“Some things never change, huh? You’ll always be—”
She doesn’t get to decide my fate. Instead, Opal squeezes herself between us, pushing my mom closer to the wall and me stumbling a pace backward.
“You better stop talking to her this way before I really cause a scene,” Opal says. She’s a solid six inches shorter than Trish, but it’s obvious who the stronger woman is.
Trish blinks a few times. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are?”
Opal cackles, and I’m filled with warmth at the harsh sound. “I’m your worst nightmare if you keep talking to Pepper that way.”
Trish scoffs.
“Don’t believe me? Then keep going. Because I know all about you, Trish Boden. I know your aliases and your schemes and all those dusty skeletons in your closet. And I have the means to uncover even more of them if I’m tempted. So, do me a favor. Make my fucking day. Keep talking to Pepper and see how much fun I can have.”
I wish I could see Opal’s face, read whatever outrageous lie she’s going to say next. Because while she may know a bit about my mom’s shitty track record, this green-haired devil doesn’t have the resources (or, let’s face it, the attention span) to dig deeper. But she’s putting on quite the convincing performance.
And it’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.
Luckily, Trish has backed herself into enough corners, always trying to squirm out, and she doesn’t see through Opal’s false bravado.
She lets out a haughty sniff, shouldering her way past Opal. “And here I was, trying to have a civil conversation with my daughter, and she sics a miscreant like you on me. Come on,Randy, we’re leaving,” she hollers, snapping her fingers. Randy scuttles over, and they walk to the door. “I’ll pray for you both. Bless your hearts,” Trish says with venom over her shoulder.
“Fuck you right back, lady,” Opal yells.
My mom shakes her head and tuts. Randy, classy man that he is, flicks us off with both hands.
“Might want to take a second to adjust your collar,” Opal adds, a vindictive grin snaking across her lips. “Your redneck is showing.”
Opal turns to me, her smile falling as she sees the tears pouring out of me at this point.
“Oh, Pepper,” she whispers, grabbing both my hands. “Come on.”
She whisks me into the elevator, jamming the button for our floor a million times as we ride up. She directs me down the hallway in a blur, my muscles heavy and sagging as sadness churns in my gut. Somehow, she gets me on the bed, my head tucked against her chest as I cry. My heart is battered and bruised like an iris clutched in a fist, but with every soft touch of her hands on my cheeks, my back, my chest, she loosens the grip.
She doesn’t tell me to stop crying. She doesn’t tell me it’ll be okay. Opal doesn’t do anything but hold me. Because being held is exactly what I need.
Chapter 32PEPPER
