Page 3 of Tequila & Lace
“It’s a chocolate cake, Joss. And it’s fucking awesome.”
“All right. Go catch those bad guys and I’ll just be over here having an orgasm while I eat cake.” I hung up the phone before he could respond. I wanted the last word and I wanted him to think about me having an orgasm… even if I was ababyin his eyes.
Fucking teenage hormones.
After placing the phone back on its cradle, I returned to my trailer. Mother was still asleep and Bryce was just coming out of our room, running with a sheet of binder paper in his hand.
“Shh, B, you’re gonna wake Mom.” I gave Mrs. McKenna a tight smile after I lifted my finger to my mouth.
“I drew you a birthday cake,” he whisper-shouted.
“I love it,” I whispered back and took the paper from the palm of the hand my mother had used as an ashtray.
I was thirteen and Bryce was only four. Mother had the night off from her job, which was rare, and we were watching 101 Dalmatians. We didn’t have cable and the only VHS cassette we owned was the cartoon from 1961, so we knew this movie by heart. I hated when she was home because she was usually pissed off at us, and she’d end up passed out on the couch after drinking a bottle of gin. This night was no different. She was angry at Bryce for something that was “all his fault” and he was crying. Before I knew what was happening, she’d yanked his hand and used it as an ashtray. I rushed him over to Mrs. McKenna’s trailer, telling her he’d burned it on the stove. She bandaged his hand, and when we returned home, Mother was passed out on the couch. The next few months, Mrs. McKenna made sure to check on us nightly.
“Want me to bake you a cake?” Mrs. McKenna asked.
“That won’t be necessary. She won’t be home.”
My eyes darted toward the hall as my mother came around the corner, tightening her belt on her baby blue robe around her waist. “I won’t?” This was the first I heard about it.
She shook her head. “You have plans.”
We never had plans; especially plans for my birthday. “Wedo?”
“Yes.” Her tone was short, so I wasn’t going to question her again.
“Well, then I will let you get to your plans,” Mrs. McKenna remarked, reaching for the front door.
“Thank you again.” I gave her a quick hug. She nodded to my mother then left.
“What was that all about?” Mother asked, a cigarette between her lips as she flicked her lighter. I watched as the flame burned the tip.
“Seth called to wish me a happy birthday.”
She blew a puff of smoke from her mouth. “That’s nice. Go shower, Joselyn. When you come out, there will be a dress on your bed for you to wear.”
“Where are we going? What are we doing?” I asked, not taking a breath. I didn’t care that she hadn’t wished me a happy birthday. She had bought me a dress and was taking me out.
“Just go take a shower, dammit!” she spat, causing me to jump.
I paused, glaring at her for a beat, then turned my head to look at Bryce. He was watching cartoons without a care in the world. I tried hard—really hard not to roll my eyes as I brushed past her. I was used to her yelling, but for one day—just one—I wished she would take into account that it was my birthday and act sweet.
Before I went to the bathroom to shower, I folded Bryce’s picture and put it in my purse to take with me. I didn’t want Mother to do something with it. I didn’t trust her. I never kept anything I didn’t want hernotto throw away. Granted I didn’t have much to begin with. I didn’t have jewelry. I didn’t have nice clothes. I didn’t have CDs. I didn’t have books. I didn’t have DVDs. I didn’t have anything except a photo of me and Bryce, one of me, Cat, and Seth from three summers ago that we took during Seth’s last summer visit, and a few pictures Bryce had drawn for me at school. I kept Bryce’s pictures he colored for me under my mattress and my photos in my purse.
Tonight I was going out for my birthday, and I was dressed up—something I’d never done.
When I returned to my room, there was a dress lying on my twin bed. I held it up in front of me; it barely came to my mid-thigh. It was a simple, sleeveless black dress. I didn’t have a strapless bra, but I could go one night without one—depending on what we did. I didn’t care. I was happy for once. It was getting to be dinner time, so hopefully we’d have a nice meal because I could go for something other than soup or a grilled cheese sandwich.
Still smiling, I slipped the dress on. Before I could slide into the sky-high, black heels my mother had placed by my bed, she came into my room without knocking. “You need to do your hair and makeup, too.”
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“No.” There was the short, snappy answer again.
Whatever.
I went back into the bathroom and found Mother’s makeup. I didn’t have money to buy my own and she’d never bought me any, so I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t wear makeup. Hell, I didn’t even know what she meant by I neededto domy hair. I covered my entire face with foundation, brushed a light beige across my eyelids, and then put on a little mascara. After I quickly dried my hair, I returned to my room.
