The two of us had worked our asses off to save up the money we had. We never splurged on ourselves, and never spent a penny that didn’t need spending. We didn’t have credit cards, and we drove piece of shit cars that barely got us to and from our jobs. That’s the only way we’d been able to save up so much money in only two years. Well, that, and the money Lindy always seemed to accumulate from her various boyfriends over the years. She was a trooper.
Lindy was also the girl who could fix anything, from busted up laces and beat-up motorcycle helmets, all the way to motorcycles themselves. If it was in the biker world, she could fix it. I wanted her not only as someone I could trust to help run the place but as someone who could help open the patch shop I would eventually implement.
“You girls still talkin’ about that stupid shop?”
And my mother was back.
“Hello, Gracie,” Lindy said.
“Your top’s too tight,” my mother said.
“No luck with the guy in the corner?” I asked.
“Cock’s too small.”
“Fuck, Mom. Seriously?” I asked.
“You fucking asked. Keep your mouth shut if you don’t wanna know.”
“And yes, we were talking about the shop,” Lindy said.
“It’s a stupid idea. It’ll never work,” my mother said.
“We’ve already saved up—.”
“Lindy. No,” I said, shaking my head.
“Saved up what?” my mother asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You’re living in my house and under my roof. You’re supposed to be helping me with bills,” my mother said.
“And I do. I pay the electric bill, the water bill, and I stock the fridge. Plus, you drink for free. Whatever I do with my money outside of that isn’t your damn business.”
I pulled another shot glass from beneath the counter and poured her a shot. She threw it back, and I promptly refilled it as Lindy’s eyes grew wide.
“How much has she had already?” she asked.
“Not fucking enough,” I said.
“Okay,” my mother said breathlessly. “Let’s go see if his cock grew a bit.”
“I don’t think you understand how alcohol works,” I said.
“How do I look, Emma?” My mother gave me a drunken twirl and landed flat on her ass. She was giggling and hiccupping as a few men began to gather around her. She looked up at them with this disgusting desire in her eyes, and I turned my back so I wouldn’t have to watch. They were ogling over her like she was in some porno, and I wasn’t going to watch my mother paint herself as that type of woman.
“You okay, Emma?” Lindy asked.
“Just let me know when she’s gone,” I said.
I hated it when my mother got this way. I hated it when she told me I would never amount to anything. Mostly, I hated it when I prayed that she would somehow transform to be a good mother when she was sober, only to be disappointed time and time again.
My mother was going to get herself into trouble one day, and she was going to end up coming to me for help. And now, she had an idea that I was stowing away money somewhere.
Which meant she was going to go looking for it.
My only hope was that that I had pumped her with enough alcohol to make her forget all about this conversation.