Page 73 of Tru Blue
“Seeing someone? Is it serious? What does he do for a living? Would I know of him?”
“Yes, it’s serious. He’s a mechanic, and no, you definitely wouldn’t know of him.” Thank God, because you might scare him away.
“I’m sorry, darling. Did you say a mechanical engineer?” she asked hopefully.
Gemma rolled her eyes. “No, Mom. A mechanic, as in, he works on cars.”
Her mother fell silent, and Gemma imagined the manipulative gears in her head grinding, trying to figure out how to get her daughter out of the clutches of a mechanic.
Gemma paced until the silence became unbearable. Sucking up the hurt she loathed feeling from her mother’s disapproval, she said, “Is there anything else you needed?”
“Oh, Gemaline. You know what you’re doing.” The accusation came across loud and clear.
“What are you talking about, Mom?” She couldn’t contain her annoyance.
“You’re rebelling. Just like that little business of yours. You’re trying to…to…hurt me.”
“Hurt you?” Gemma raised her eyes to the ceiling.
“You’ve always tried to prove your independence by denying what’s best for you.”
“Here’s a news flash, Mom. I’m twenty-six years old. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone but myself. And I’ve already proven that I’m smart, capable, and—” Why the hell am I explaining myself to you?—“I have to get back to work.”
“Does this ‘mechanic’ have a name?” She said mechanic as if it were a disease.
Choking back the urge to tell her mother off for using that disgusted tone, she said, “My boyfriend’s name is Truman Gritt, and please, Mother, the next time you say what he does for a living, don’t make it sound like a dirty word. Perhaps you should have taken those essential etiquette lessons with me.”
“Gemaline. Is that any way to speak to your mother?”
She closed her eyes, willing herself to be nicer than her mother deserved. I learned from the beast—I mean best. “I’m sorry, but Truman is important to me, and I wish you would show him the same respect you expect me to show Warren.”
“Daddy,” she corrected her.
The man had never been any type of father to Gemma, though he wasn’t awful to her like her mother was. He was rarely around, but when he was, he wasn’t unkind. He had a wealthy air about him, the kind that kept his dollars close and warmth at bay, allowing only a few words to slip out now and again.
“Warren, Mother. My father committed suicide. You do remember my real father, don’t you?” She knew she was being a bitch, but her mother was just plain pissing her off.
There was a beat of silence, and when her mother finally spoke, her tone was almost believably sad.
“Yes, of course. He chose to leave us, Gemaline.”
Fisting her hand at her side, she refused to cry down memory lane with the woman who hadn’t been there for her when she first took that painful walk. “Yes. He did. But he was still my father. As I said, let’s try to be civil when speaking about our significant others.”
“Yes, darling. Is this…Truman coming to the fundraiser?”
Not on your life. “No. It’s just going to be me.”
“What kind of man lets his girlfriend attend a function of this caliber alone?”
“The kind that has children to care for. I have to go, Mom. I’ll see you next week.” She ended the call, knowing her mother would stew over her last comment, but she didn’t care. She checked her watch, relieved to see it was closing time, and stormed out of the storeroom.
“Luscious Licks. Now,” she said as she gathered her purse.
Crystal grabbed her purse and did a fist pump. “Hate binge. I love it!”
Gemma gave her a deadpan stare, working hard to stifle a smile at her friend’s support. “So much joy over my pain…”
“I mean…”
After a beat of silence they both burst into laughter and said, “Hate binge!” and headed out the door to bury the awful conversation below miles of ice cream.
TRUMAN STOOD STOCK-STILL while being searched at the rehab center. His heart pounded so hard he was sure the guy searching him thought he was hiding something. The urge to bolt was so strong he curled his fingers into fists, trying to squeeze the frustration out, and reminded himself he was doing this for Quincy.
