Lust (Vegas Nights 2)

I’d thought he loved me, once. He was my big brother. My protector. My confidante. The person I’d shared everyone with—my safe space, my best friend. There was nothing I couldn’t tell him.

Losing Damien hurt almost more than my mom and sister. We’d gotten each other through it. He’d covered for me more times than I cared to count.

The last time I’d seen his face was in the middle of a grocery store a few weeks after Lola was born. We’d stared at each other, then he’d asked me how I was. Asked me about her. Held her for mere seconds before she’d cried.

I’d missed him ever since.

I was staring the stones with the names of my mom and sister on, but I only could think of the very alive brother I’d lost right along with them.

Death.

Lies.

Pain.

Life.

I slid down the wall, the scraping of it against my back less painful than the ache that coursed through my veins, and cried.

On the dirty, dry ground of the cemetery with my back grazed thanks to the stone, I cried harder than I had in years.

***

“Mommy.” Lola crept into my bedroom with the skill and silence of a hunting lioness. Her fluffy socks masked her usual loudness, and it was obvious my child didn’t feel the heat at all. At least, not at home.

“Yes?” I released my hair from the curler and turned to her.

“I have a question.”

“Okay.”

She sat on the edge of the bed next to me and looked over at me. “Why can’t penguins fly?”

I blinked at my reflection in the mirror. “I, er, I’m not sure. Did you try to Google it?”

“Yeah, but I can’t spell penguin. How do you spell it?”

“P-e-n-g-u-i-n.”

“P-e-n-g-u-i-n,” she repeated. “Thanks, Mommy.”

“You’re welcome.” Honestly, you’d think it’d be on their suggested searches at this point.

Why couldn’t penguins fly?

That was serious business. Why didn’t I know the answer?

Because I was too damn busy doing laundry and spotting hookers for a living, that was why.

She got up and disappeared quicker than I could say a word to her.

I went back to curling my hair. She got more random as time went on, and I was at a point where going along with whatever she had to ask was the smarter option.

Also: I wanted to know if penguins could fly. This one benefitted us both.

I released the final lock of my hair from curling iron and turned it off. It beeped right before I did, and I set it on the heatproof mat that conveniently covered up the burn mark from the time I didn’t use the mat.

I loosened the curls with my fingers, pausing at the sound of several knocks on the door.

Who was that? If it was a solicitor, I was going to move my robe to the side and show them my stocking, because no doubt, they were a religious nut. Nobody else came into this neighborhood—just the ones who thought Jesus would save us.

Sadly for them, Satan already claimed me. I didn’t know exactly how Jesus felt about prostitutes.

“Mommy, it’s Zac! Zac’s here!”

What the—

“Lola! Do not answer the door!” I tripped over the curling iron cord on my way out of my room, grabbing the door handle. My arm grazed the edge of the door, but I could barely feel the sting, because my heart was pounding.

Why was Zac here?

More to the point—if Zac was here, so was Adrian. And why?

“Zac! Hi!”

The door creaked open.

“Lola!” My voice was hard. “What did I just tell you?”

From my position on the stairs, I could see her. She froze, hand still on the doorknob. I tugged my robe around me and tightened the belt before I was fully in view.

“Get back inside. Now.”

“But—” she started, turning.

I hit her with a look that asked, “Do you think I care about your “but?”” and she did as I’d told her. Not without dipping her head and shuffling off with a sniff or three. All in the hopes of making me feel bad, of course.

Unfortunately for her, it didn’t work.

Conscious of the fact my robe wasn’t the most modest, I clutched it at my chest as I approached the front door. As I’d assumed, Zac was standing there, Adrian right behind him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Zac wore shorts and a Marvel t-shirt, and Adrian was dressed for work. White shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbow, showing his dark ink off, and smart, black pants with shiny shoes.

I looked at them both before meeting Adrian’s eyes. “Uh, hello?”

“Hey.” He grimaced, almost looking sheepish as he returned my gaze. “Sorry—I tried to call. Could we talk?”

I paused, the urge to be snarky rising inside me, but then I remembered…Zac. “Sure.” I stepped aside, gripping my robe a little tighter. “Zac, you wanna go through to the front room? Lola’s in there watching TV. Just down there.” I pointed in the direction of the room and with a nod, he walked off to find her.