Up to Me(39)

“In that case, I’m borrowing your bike for Halloween.”

I smile, but say nothing. That sounds an awful lot like he’s planning to stick around and I’m just not sure how I feel about that.

“One fright night at a time, man,” I say lightly. “Let’s get this one out of the way first. Can you be back here by eight or so?”

“Yep.”

“And would you mind stopping by an office supply store on your way back and picking up some of these?”

I hold up the ledgers for him to see. He frowns and reaches out and grabs one. Flipping through the pages, he says quietly, “So this is what caused so much trouble?”

“No. Dad’s choices are what caused so much trouble,” I say flatly.

Nash looks up at me. His gaze is hard, unyielding, but he says nothing, just hands me the ledger.

“I’ll bring ‘em.”

“See you in a few then.”

And with that, he turns and walks out of the apartment.





CHAPTER NINETEEN- Olivia



With only about twenty minutes left before we get to her house, I brainstorm some sort of believable reason I’d be showing up on my mother’s doorstep in the middle of the night. With a strange guy in tow.

It’s been so long since I’ve called her, it takes me three tries to get the number right. It’s programmed into my phone, but my phone is at Cash’s apartment. I’m using one of the little cheapies that Cash wants me to toss in the trash every day or two.

My stepfather Lyle’s sleepy voice sounds on the other end of the line. I breathe a sigh of relief. I didn’t know any other number combinations to try, so I’d have been up the creek if this one hadn’t been right.

“Lyle, it’s Olivia. I’m sorry to call so late. Can I speak to Mom?”

I hear an exasperated sigh and some muffled sounds as he covers the mouthpiece with his hand. A few seconds later, my mother’s voice comes on the line.

“Olivia, do you know what time it is, young lady?”

Leave it to my mother to be more concerned with propriety than the fact that her daughter is calling out of the blue at an ungodly hour.

“Mom, there was a gas leak at my place in town. Can I come stay the night with you?”

I hear a variety of noises before she speaks, none of which sound pleased. “Why aren’t you staying with your father? Don’t you have a key?”

“Dad broke his leg. It’s hard for him to get around. Calling him in the middle of the night might cause him to hurt himself. So would just showing up.”

Everything I’m telling her is true except the gas leak. “And I’m bringing someone with me. He’s…well, he’s a friend. I hope that’s okay.”

It’s funny that I couldn’t even force the lie that Gavin means something more to me. It seems that even my tongue is tied to Cash, which is freakin’ ridiculous. But, knowing my mother, she’ll make something else of it anyway. She’ll see and hear and perceive what she wants to and make all her judgments based on what’s in her head. That’s the way it’s always been with her.

“If you think you’re sleeping in the same room with this ‘friend,’ you can think again, Olivia.”

I can almost see her lips thinning into a self-righteous pucker.

“I wasn’t even going to ask, Mom. We just need a safe place. For tonight.” Gavin pokes me, looking meaningfully at me. “A couple days at the most.”

“A couple of days?” Oh yeah, she’s outraged now. Inconveniencing my mother is a huge no-no.

“We won’t interfere with any plans you’ve got. You won’t even know we’re there.”

“I doubt that,” she mumbles. “All right. When will you be here?”

“We’re about fifteen minutes out now.”

“All right.”

With a click, the line goes dead. I sigh and hang up on my end. I look to Gavin and he grins.

“Sounds like a gem.”

“Oh, she is.”

Perceptive guy.

Just under twenty minutes later, Gavin is carrying my bag and following me up the long, curving, lighted walkway to my mother’s front door. I stop on the stoop and take a deep breath, glancing at Gavin to my left. He’s looking the house over, taking in the fancy brick exterior, the neverending supply of windows and the expensive brass knocker attached to the huge wooden door.

“This ought to be interesting.”

I smile. “Oh, you have no idea.”

So I knock.

Within seconds, the door swings open to reveal my mother, standing just inside, wrapped in a high-dollar silk robe. From her perfectly coiffed (yes, even in the middle of the night) sable hair to her sharp blue eyes to her thin arms crossed over her chest, she oozes disapproval. Essentially, she looks much like she did last time I saw her a couple of years ago. She’s pretty much always disapproving. And she’s pretty much always the same age. No doubt she spends thousands of dollars on preservatives. Eventually I’ll catch up to her and we’ll be the same age.