We drove down Sunset and stopped by a few smaller dealerships. I wanted to look for a car online and pay for it in cash, but she insisted on getting a loan to help Ashton build his credit.
“Mom, you understand if you co-sign and he doesn’t make a payment on time, it’ll screw your credit too?” I tried to reason with her as we were leaving the first lot. “And it’ll happen.”
“It’s not like I’m going to buy a house anytime soon.” She brushed me off.
“Funny, you never offered to co-sign when I was trying to get my first car,” I noted, getting behind the wheel of my Honda.
“You never asked. You just did whatever you had your heart set on without checking with me or your father.”
We shut the doors and were cocooned in the comfort of my modest vehicle. This was the first time in years she’d brought up dad and it struck a chord with me.
“Mom.” I spun in my seat and looked at her. “Can I ask you something?”
She flipped the visor and fixed her lipstick. “Sure.”
Years of working two jobs had worn my mother down, but she was still a beautiful woman. Today, she’d styled her hair into a French twist and had put on daring makeup. These past couple of months without Ashton around had been good for her mental health, but while I enjoyed seeing the spark in her eyes, the fears were still there, constant and obvious. She desperately clung to the fading traces of youth and it was difficult to watch. Oftentimes, I wondered if the loneliness she’d been living in ever since my father walked out wasn’t only his fault but also my and my brother’s.
“What is it?” My mother flicked her gaze at me, eyes curious.
The question was stuck in my throat, heavy like lead. I swallowed past it and muttered, “Do you remember when dad started drinking?”
She froze, lipstick still open between her fingers. “Why do you want to talk about him? He’s a goddamn quitter.” I could hear her anger.
“I just—” My voice broke. “I just want to know how it started. I don’t remember seeing him sober. Ever.”
My mother closed the lipstick and tossed it in her purse. “That’s because he never was.” She turned her head away from me and glanced at the stretch of parking lot ahead of us. “First it was a beer or two after work, then it was beer for breakfast and vodka for lunch until he lost his job and then his license.”
“What about rehab or AA? Did he ever try?”
“I talked to him about it many times. He promised to get help, but it was always tomorrow. He kept feeding me those tomorrows for years.” She turned to me, and her tired face went blank for a brief moment. “You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, sweetheart.”
“Do you know where he is right now?”
“No, and I don’t care.” Her expression was full of worry. “What’s gotten into you? Don’t tell me you want to see him?”
“No, it’s not that. We just never talk about him.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. He left.”
The urge to scream and bang my head against the steering wheel was so sudden, my solar plexus convulsed. Drawing a deep breath, I slid the key in the ignition and started the car.
“Good riddance.” My mother scoffed, fighting the seatbelt. “We’re better off anyway.”
She wasn’t wrong. Between living without a father or living with a money-sucking body, the choice was obvious.
Next, we made a stop at another dealership. Our fifth for the day. I was fixing myself a coffee at the refreshment station when my phone began to buzz. The texter was persistent.
“How about that Mini Cooper, sweetheart?” my mother called from across the room, motioning at the bright red car that sat outside in the yard. “It’s only eight thousand.”
My phone continued to ping. “For Ashton? Are you out of your mind?”
“It’s got low mileage.” She rushed over, a brochure in her hand.
“Trust me, he will not get behind the wheel of this car, Mom. Even if it’s free.”
“You think?”
“I’m pretty sure.” I pulled out my phone and checked the incoming messages.
Levi: Just got the word from Maria. Frankie’s coming.
Levi: Get your ass here. Pronto.
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I didn’t think Frank was still on board emotionally and mentally. Especially after last night. With everything going on, it seemed as if Isabella’s album was the last thing he’d be interested in.
“Mom?” I tore my gaze from my phone. “I have to be somewhere. Can we resume tomorrow?”
“What’s the rush?” my mother questioned as I ushered her outside. “Is it your boyfriend? Are you ever going to introduce him to me?”
“Probably. Eventually.” I opened the Uber app. “I’m going to get you a car, okay?”
“Where are you going? Did something happen?”
“Everything’s fine. It’s just work.”
Another string of messages attacked my phone.
Levi: You need to be here!
Levi: Right now!
Levi: You’re going to miss it!
It sounded so end-of-the-world serious, I almost ran a red light on my way to the studio. Roman stood outside when I pulled up to the building. A couple of kids were hanging around the parking lot and my gut told me they were here for Frank. I cut the engine and grabbed my phone. Isabella’s Instagram story featured my boyfriend. It was a two-second snippet of him and her band in the studio. For a man who had every intention of keeping all his affairs and charitable causes private, he wasn’t very careful with this one.
I heard a tap. Roman’s face swam into focus as I rolled down the window.
“Ms. Evans, it’s best you go around and use the back entrance,” he said, his sharp gaze dancing across the lot.
I tossed my phone aside and surveyed my surroundings. What do you know? In a car two rows over sat a
