Page 81 of Songbird: Black Kite
“Maybe,” I said noncommittally, hoping it would be the end of it.
“Alright,” he relented, but after working so closely with the man for the last five years, I could tell he was slightly annoyed with me. “I’ll let you have a rain check, but one of these days, youwillhave dinner with me, Wren.”
I only smiled and climbed into my car, watching him watch me in the mirror as I drove away.
Under any other circumstances, I might have agreed to go to dinner with him. I couldn’t deny that Daniel was good looking; he had that posh, rich boy charm, the kind that came from years of attending fancy parties and dinners at the country club. Daniel was clean cut, well respected, and kind. I could do a whole lot worse.
But he was also the only lawyer in town, and I really fucking liked working as a paralegal. It had been a stroke of luck that I’d stumbled into the position, and I knew I’d never find anything else even close to as good in Grand Rapids. Which meant that I had to smile and nod and turn down what was probably my best prospect for a decent date, but I really had no choice.
Dating had been the last thing on my mind for a very long time.
Driving through downtown, I smiled as I watched the familiar streets go by, a thousand memories, good and bad, flashing through my mind. This town had been my home all my life, and though things looked wildly different than I’d ever anticipated, I couldn’t say it was all bad.
Not when I had my girl.
It was nearing dusk when I pulled up to the high school, the setting sun shining off the small lake that was tucked in behind the school. Flashing my lights at the pack of teenaged girls standing in a huddle out front, Cooper and her friend Jillian standing off to the side of the rest of the kids, just far enough away to be noticeable. I smiled as Cooper rolled her eyes at me, waving goodbye to Jillian and getting in the car.
“Do you have to be so completely cringe?” she asked dramatically, and I laughed.
“I mean, I work hard at it, so I would like to think you wouldn’t mind me showcasing my talents. How am I supposed to win Cringiest Mother of the Year again if I don’t practice?”
“That’s probably actually a thing,” she droned, her fingers flying over her phone even as she continued giving me grief. “And if it is a thing, you’d probably win it.”
“Just be glad the only thing I flashed was my lights,” I added, at which point she physically recoiled in her chair.
“Oh my God, you wouldn’t!”
“Keep giving me attitude,” I laughed manically, following the tree-lined streets back to our house. “See what happens.”
“I’m sure whatever is happening right now would be considered illegal in all fifty states,” Cooper replied, trying her hardest to conceal her smile. I could tell she was trying not to laugh by the tone of her voice. She’d gotten all wobbly, her words practically vibrating as she attempted to pretend she wasn’t having a good time.
“And both territories,” I amended, and that finally broke her. She tipped her head back and laughed, her phone momentarily forgotten, which I considered a major win. “How was practice?”
“Ugh, fine, I guess.”
“Just fine? I thought you liked volleyball.”
“I do. It’s just that ever since the girls all voted Britney captain, I’ve been getting more time on the bench than on the court.”
Gritting my teeth, I tried not to let my teen daughter see just how much the mention of her classmate triggered me. I hated that word, but in this case, it was the absolute truth.
I wastriggeredby the mere mention of Britney McQueen.
“Well, I’m sure it will all work out. You’re the best player on the team, Coop. They have to use you where your talents are most valuable.”
“You’d think,” she huffed, clicking off her phone screen and looking out the door. “But my talents don’t mean a whole lot when Britney is hosting pool parties and her mother is buying new uniforms for the whole team.”
I wasn’t sure what I’d done wrong in a past life, but it was obvious that someone was punishing me. What other explanation could there be for the fact that Denise McQueen and I both had daughters in the exact same grade. It was cruel, is what it was. My childhood had been a series of torturous moments involving Denise and her friends, their relentless teasing and vicious words making up a highlight reel of my youth.
So how was it at all fair that on Cooper’s first day of kindergarten, Denise and Jason McQueen showed up, enrolling their own daughter in the exact same class.
Yeah, Jason Mason actually took Denise’s last name when they married, knowing that it would get him a lot farther in life than his own stupid name.
So now here we were, ten years later, and Britney was living up to her mother’s awful reputation in every way she could.
“Hey,” I said, trying really hard to put aside my own damage and offer my daughter some actual advice. “Just remember that the reason Britney has to buy her friends is because, at heart, she’s a really terrible person who is deeply unhappy with her own life. In the end, you’ll come out the other side of this better for the experience while she’ll forever be miserable.”
“You get that from a fortune cookie?”
