Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
A long pause tells me she’s mulling this over.
“Okay, yeah, I can do that.”
“And Audrey––”
“Yeah?”
“No more eleven pm strategy sessions. Get some sleep.”
“K, bye.”
That’s why I’m not at all surprised when I received a text from her half an hour ago as I’m on my way to work asking if I’m busy. What I was not prepared for was this––
Funsize: I’m at the Manhasset mall and mom and dad aren’t answering. Phone almost dead. Come and get me.
In a panic I called Fredo for a ride to Long Island. He was at the townhouse not fifteen minutes later, God bless his heart.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be there in no time,” he tries to assure me.
Yeah, it’s not working. I nod as I blindly stare out the passenger side window and rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. Rationally, I know he’s right. And yet I can’t seem to stop my stomach from churning. I’ve never felt this kind of anxiety. And quite frankly, if this is what being a parent feels like, then sign me up for tubal ligation surgery, stat.
“Do you have kids?”
“A son. He’s sixteen.” Fredo throws me a brief smile. “I’m blessed. He’s a really good kid.”
“Did he ever pull any teenage nonsense on you?”
Fredo’s expression grows thoughtful before he answers. “He didn’t have it easy growing up. I was going through some stuff.” With a sideways glance, he gauges my reaction. “Being unemployed for so long gets to you. I went through a bout of depression.”
If bartending has taught me anything, it’s that each and ever one of us has a little red wagon of issues we drag around. Sadly, nothing surprises me anymore. “Are you doing better?”
He nods, a small smile softening his blunt masculine features. “Every man needs a purpose, and being able to take care of his family is an important one.”
“Her friends ditched her at the mall and she has no money for a cab. How would you handle it?”
“My two cents. Don’t say or do anything impulsive. Hear her out first. Take it from someone who’s learned how to parent by trial and error.”
By the time we reach the mall I’ve lost half my body weight in sweat. I once drank three Monster drinks in a row and felt nowhere near as jittery as I do now. The car hasn’t even come to a full stop and I’m out the door, yelling at Fredo to meet me inside and to keep his phone close. The weather still being on the chilly side I warned him that she could be wearing purple Uggs and most likely carrying a purple backpack.
In the food court, I spot her sitting by herself, chin in hand and staring at her phone. Relief spreads through me, the sweat on my back and forehead cooling. Shivering, I wipe the sweat on my forehead with the back of my hand. As I walk up, I notice that she’s flipping through her Instagram account and a pickle of unease crawls up the back of my neck.
“I thought your phone was dead?”
Startled, she looks up with big wide eyes. Something stinks and it’s not the fast food.
“Tell me you didn’t lie. Tell me you actually called your parents.” Anger bubbles up from my gut because I already know the answer to that. Her gaze falls to the floor, her bony shoulders curving.
“Audrey!”
Suddenly, she stands. “I’m sorry!” she wails. Some of the mothers and kids sitting nearby turn and stare at the commotion. I tell them to mind their own business with a glare.
“I can’t believe you!” I grind out, jaw in jeopardy of snapping in two. “Get your things and let’s go.”
“I’m sorry, okay.” She ducks her head and shoves her backpack over her shoulders, pulling her sleeves over her hands. Oh please, is she crying? Of course, dramatic streak a mile wide in this family.
“You’re crying? Really? I’m losing about 400 bucks in tips tonight and you’re crying? I’m the one that’s crying, Audrey. On the inside. I’m inside crying for being so goddamn stupid.”
With that I turn and start marching through the mall. In the meantime, I shoot Fredo a quick text that I’ve found her and to meet us out front.
“Why did you come?”
“Because that’s what I do, I chase after things,” I say yelling my response while ironically walking away. Audrey picks up the pace, staying right behind me.
“Things, or people?”
“Both.”
“People you love?”
My feet come to a hard stop and Audrey bumps into my back. “Yes.”
“Does that mean you love me?” I turn and find her peering up at me with nervous anticipation, her eyes still wet, her cheeks pink. Why doesn’t she just drive a stake through my heart? Maybe dangle some garlic under my nose.
“Yes. And Audrey, here’s a serious warning. I despise manipulation. Manipulating me will only make me love you less, so don’t do it again.”