“Shit, everyone’s had sex with Chance’s daddy.”
I sat up higher on the bed. “Like who?”
“Never mind all that. Let’s just say that Manuel has stuck more money in panties and seen more sluts working the pole than any man in Birmingham.”
“Working the pole?”
“Yes, the pole!”
I looked at her in confusion.
“Shit, I’m glad you don’t know what I mean ’cause your ass better not end up working the pole at some sleazy strip club.”
“Ah,” I whispered, getting her point.
“Listen to me, Rayne. Men ain’t no damn good.”
I laid back down. “You said that already.”
It couldn’t be true. Mr. Martinez was always so lovey-dovey. If a man like him would not only cheat but frequent strip clubs, what kind of man wouldn’t? No, I wasn’t buying it. I had to defend such an honorable man. Momma had to be mistaken, delusional, or something.
“I don’t believe you had sex with him, Momma.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” Momma’s gray eyes turned almost jet black, like they always did when she was angry. “Are you calling me a liar, Rayne?”
I wasn’t about to back down from her; even though her body language was giving off the indication that she’d haul off and slap me if I responded “yes.” Instead, I said, “You’re mistaken or confused. Maybe you have him mixed up with someone else.”
Her knees started wobbling and she sat back down on the bed. If she hadn’t, she surely would’ve fallen at any second.
“Okay, missy, I’ll put it this way. If I ain’t never let him have the coochie, how do I know he has a tattoo of an anchor on his ass?”
“An anchor?” This was simply too much for me.
“Yeah, Manuel used to be a sailor. That’s probably why he’s so damn freaky now. Military men are the nastiest of all.” She emphasized the last portion of her statement and the liquor on her breath was so strong, I almost passed out.
“I’ve heard enough, Momma. I can’t take any more of this,” I stated sternly and covered my head with my comforter before she could start breathing on me again. “Can I please go to sleep? I’m going to Six Flags tomorrow, in Atlanta. Remember?”
“With who?” Momma asked. Once again, she’d forgotten something I’d told her less than twenty-four hours earlier.
“Chance.”
“Manuel going, or is he staying here so he can fuck some stripper tomorrow night?”
I sucked in air and ignored that. “No, Ruiz is driving us.”
Chance’s older brother, Ruiz, was one of the finest men on the planet. I’d fallen in puppy love/lust with him when Chance and I were in the sixth grade and he was in the tenth. I was nothing more than a baby sister to him but that didn’t change the fact that I wanted to be his girlfriend.
“Tell Ruiz he can’t have none, either.”
Ruiz can have anything from me, I thought as a sly grin came across my face.
“Not unless he’s giving up some cash and I know his ass is broke,” she continued with her bashing. “Broke daddy, broke son.”
Seeing an opportunity to catch Momma in a lie, I inquired, “If Mr. Martinez is so broke, why’d you have sex with him? What about your intaking dick for financial purposes policy?”
I should’ve kept my mouth shut because I wasn’t prepared for her answer.
“’Cause Manuel eats a mean pussy, that’s why! I’ve had a lot of sweet pussy lickings in my day but damn! Manuel can make a woman want to—”