“Welcome to Drake’s garage, how can I help you?” I said in my best customer-service voice, honed by many hours in front of the mirror. What could I say, I was a perfectionist. And getting the voice just right was a job in itself.
“I know my way around. No need to get up,” the bombshell from the other day said, then walked toward the back door. I smiled at her, using my best customer-service smile that hopefully masked my annoyance. Her dress was so short, it barely covered her ass. Her hair was big, her lips bright red, and she used a heavy hand with her makeup. I felt bad for judging her; she could be a nice person after all. But I was hungry, which always put me in a bitchy mood.
She breezed past me without another word. See if I cared that some people didn’t know how to use basic manners. A hello would have done nicely. Much to my annoyance, I compared my ragged appearance with her perfect one. I eyed the stain on the front of my white blouse, a casualty from the donut I’d eaten this morning, and started scrubbing it with my finger.
Since it had been there for hours and was dry, my endeavor was pointless.
When the doorbell chimed again, I was ready to hide under my desk and tell whoever came inside that we were closed. It was 4:58.
“Welcome to Drake’s garage…,” I started to say but words escaped me as soon as I saw who had come inside. My mouth was moving but no sound came out.
“So this is where you work now. I had to hear it from Senator Bayden. I didn’t believe him when he told me you were working in the office of the garage where he got his car restored,” my mother said, looking around the room with her nose turned up. Her black suit was without a stain, fluff, or wrinkle, and her heels were shiny and unblemished, most likely brand new. Her hair was artfully arranged into a bun at the back of her head and her makeup was applied with precision, nothing smudged, nothing too bright.
One thing she didn’t like was seeking out people, and her narrowed eyes made her displeasure clear. The fact that I hadn’t been home in well over six months hadn’t sent a clear enough message…obviously. I was under the illusion that if I stayed away and pretended she didn’t exist, I could stay under the radar. But it was only that, an illusion. My ignorance just caught up with me.
This wasn’t the first time she had tracked me down. Last time I ended up hiding out at Maisie’s place for a few weeks. The time before that I stayed at Willa’s. They both knew bits and pieces about my mother, and I’m sure they put the rest together.
I pushed my chair back, careful not to make a noise and draw attention to myself. My mother was still studying the office, a room that was clean and modern, even though there were a few grease stains along the walls and floor. It was a garage after all, so stains were hard to avoid.
My body was coiled tight, my hands clutched together in front of my T-shirt. “Can I help you?” I croaked, my throat feeling like I swallowed sand.
“You look ridiculous. What the hell are you doing? No daughter of mine is going to work in a dirty garage dressed in rags. As a receptionist no less. All the expensive schooling I paid for was for nothing. You truly are my biggest disappointment.”
“I apologize but we’re closed. If you need a service for your car, you can call or come back tomorrow.”
She made a dismissive gesture and sneered at me. “As if I would ever bring my car here. We’re going home. I’m sick of your childish rebellion. It ends now.”
My hands shook when I grabbed my bag. I was only too happy to go home. Just not with her. “You have no say over what I do anymore. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get home.”
With my head held high, I walked past her, keeping her in my sight the whole time. I almost made it to the door when I felt her fingers dig into my arm. “You think you can defy me, girl? I decide what you do and where you go. You’ve had your fun; it’s time to come back home.”
I tried to be strong and stand up to her but years of conditioning were hard to break. “Let go of me,” I pleaded, my voice no more than a whisper.
She ignored my pleas and dragged me outside and toward her car, a black Mercedes G Wagon. I stumbled after her, more out of habit than anything else. She wasn’t strong enough to make me do anything anymore. Her style included well-placed verbal jabs and emotional manipulation. The fact that she had gone out of her way and come to the garage told me she was working on something that required my participation.
If I got into the car, there would be no more job at Drake’s. Or girls’ nights out with Maisie and Willa. Or babysitting Luca and Lena. I’d be right back to where I had been most of my life, locked up and forgotten in a cold mansion.
I dug my heels in and managed to stop our movement. My mother wasn’t one to accept rebellion and pulled harder. I tried to free my arm and leaned back to use my minimal body weight to help me.
My arm slipped, but I stumbled and she used the momentum to push me toward the car. She opened the passenger door and shoved me in the back. I was too stunned at the physical assault that instead of jumping out of the car, I sat on the back seat. After all, wasn’t she the one who had always told me that a Connor never got physical?
“Why are
