Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
Ms. Anita Cavenford - that’s “MIZZ”! - watched me turn the deadbolt. I met her hard stare as I pocketed the key. Gave her a saucy wink, knowing how much she hated it.
“Safety first,” I told Mom.
“Safety,” Mom scoffed, one hand on her hip. She shook her head. “I want the old lock put back on. I’ve never found my key.”
I shrugged. “I left it on the table for you.” It was a lie. I purposely withheld every route for escape in preparation for today. “I’ll get a spare made today, Mom. Really, it’s about safety.”
Mom turned to open the liquor cabinet. My heart pounded as I watched her pour scotch and soda on the rocks. She took a sip and made a face.
“I know you’re up to something,” she said. “You don’t care about my safety.”
She was right. The safety that concerned me was over being able to work my plan to perfection without interruption. I didn’t want Mom figuring out how to make a break for it. Our private time needed to be uninterrupted.
Mom gulped at the drink. Was her hand shaking? A bit. There’s no way she had a clue what was about to happen. What age did that old-person shaking thing start? I shrugged. No matter. I didn’t want a handjob.
“You must have picked up the wrong brand of soda.” Mom said, taking her drink to sit in her favorite recliner. “It tastes off.”
I made a show of taking it from her. Faked sipping it. Handed her the drink back.
“Tastes the same to me. Maybe your sourpuss is the problem.”
Dark eyes glittered like diamond edged daggers. “You think you’re funny,” she spat venomously. “You aren’t. You’re just a vile little boy trying to get attention from his mother.”
I almost hit her. But I forced a smile and blew her a little kiss. Flopped onto the couch and pointed the remote at the television.
“If I had a half-decent mother, maybe I wouldn’t have to work so hard for attention,” I snapped back. “Seriously, put the bitch on the back burner for one night. Your disapproval gets boring after a while.”
Ice clinked as Mom drained her drink. She took a long breath and sighed. Sat her drink on the side-table.
“Your rude tongue gets boring,” she replied. “You’re twenty-three, Brian. If you don’t like my rules, you can move out. Most men with any sort of ambition don’t live with their mothers at your age.”