the title printed over the shirtless dude. “Pretty good.” I turned it back and admired the image. I’d never had my hands on a chest like that, but a girl could dream. If you added tattoos, it could be Luke.
“I liked that one, and the next in the series too.”
Nell and I had similar tastes in escapist reading.
I pulled the next book from my backpack. “Ready to go.”
“You know you might run into Willy if you stay too long.”
I grimaced. “Chance I’ll have to take, I guess.” She knew I wasn’t angling for any more time in Willy Little’s presence. My ex-boyfriend wasn’t getting the hint.
“Just thought I’d warn you.”
The bell over the door jangled, and another customer entered.
After verifying it wasn’t Willy, I went back to my book.
Two hours and another cup of decaf later, I packed up my book and waved goodbye to Nell.
My luck had held, and Willy was a no-show. Now I was off to face the real menace: my stepdad, Dom. Dominic Fortuzi was a real piece of work, but then I hadn’t picked him—and settled for him was more like what Mom had done after Dad’s death.
When I pulled back into the drive, both their cars were parked—Mom’s Toyota and Dom’s old pickup.
When I reached the porch, the eviction notice was gone. This house wasn’t much to look at, but it was a step up from the last two places we’d stayed.
Dom had the TV on, watching baseball. “You’re late,” he barked.
The Red Sox were playing. Even though we lived in Virginia now, he still rooted for his old team. The side table held three beer bottles—two empty, and one halfway there.
“My shift got extended. Nancy was late,” I explained. It had happened before, when Nancy had daycare issues, and was my standard excuse.
“Get dinner ready. Your mom’s resting,” he said, gulping down more beer. “And make it good.” Good in his terminology was a hard thing to define, as it seemed to depend entirely on his mood.
“What do you want?” I asked to avoid a confrontation later.
“Surprise me, but make it quick.”
Surprising him was never a good idea.
“How about spaghetti?” It was one of his go-to meals.
“I guess, but less garlic this time.” Last week he’d criticized my meal as not having enough garlic or pepper.
“I can do that.” In the kitchen, I threw ground beef in the skillet and a pot of water for the noodles on the stove before checking on Mom.
I found her in the chair in their bedroom with her cat in her lap and red eyes.
“I’m fixing spaghetti for dinner,” I told her.
“That’s nice. How ’bout a salad on the side?”
Misty, Mom’s fluffball of a cat, ignored me. Since I’d banned her from my room, she only cared for me when she heard a can of cat food being opened. Getting up in the middle of the night and feeling the wet squish of one of her hairballs underfoot in the dark had soured me on letting a long-haired cat sleep in my room.
“Mom, are you okay?” I didn’t want to give away that I’d seen the ugly notice on the door.
“Just allergies, dear.”
Denial was one of her coping mechanisms.
I closed her door and busied myself in the kitchen.
A half hour later, I had dinner ready—no garlic this time—and served it up on three trays: plates of steaming, al dente spaghetti with the salads in separate bowls.
Dom merely grunted when I handed him the tray to balance on his lap. Eating at the table wasn’t a dinnertime occurrence for him, as it would cut into television time.
“Less garlic,” I mentioned.
Mom wanted to eat hers in her room.
I added vinegar to my pasta before sitting down to eat in the kitchen with my book in front of me.
Even as I cleaned up, nobody mentioned the dreaded news hanging over us.
Dom and Mom had argued about this before. He thought nothing of getting a few months behind after a year or two and getting evicted. It saved on rent was his view. The fact that we had to put in the effort to move again and the effect that had on Mom and me—and any friendships we’d made—didn’t compute in Dom’s world. He didn’t seem to have any friends. As a Metrobus driver for WMATA, it wasn’t like he spent time with anyone at work. A solitary job like that fit him—less opportunity to argue.
Later, reading in my room, I heard the argument start, loud enough that I could understand