“And just what did Valeen have to say?”
“That she’s trouble.”
“She is right here,” I chime in, waving a hand. “And she doesn’t appreciate being spoken about like she’s not.”
“And she has claws.” Selina laughs. “Good. You’ll need them here, little girl.” Then she’s walking away, shaking her hips as she goes.
“Old girlfriend?” I guess.
“Something like that. She’s concocted this fantasy in her mind. Thinks we’re going to get married.”
There is no reason to feel jealous. No logical reason for my heart to feel like it’s being squeezed by a fist, but that’s exactly how I feel.
“It’ll never happen. With her or anyone.” Sebastian looks past me. I follow his gaze in the direction of Valeen with another woman. She’s maybe mid-forties, dark hair, and her mouth is set in a firm line. I get the feeling she doesn’t approve of me, even without meeting me. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sebastian’s mom,” Eros provides. He takes pity on me, opting to stay close while Lathan and Tres go their own ways.
“She’s beautiful.” Slightly intimidating, but beautiful. “How long have you guys been with the carnival?”
Eros laughs. “Sebastian will tell you we’re not technically with them, but the truth is, this is the only life we’ve ever known. He thought once he was old enough, he’d leave and never look back.” Eros grows uncharacteristically quiet. “But, we’re all he’s got.”
“And you?”
“I’m just here for the pussy.”
I snort out a laugh, and Eros hooks his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s introduce you to our big dysfunctional family.”
“Ah, now that’s something I know all about.”
“You’ll fit right in.”
“MOTHER,” I INCLINE MY HEAD in greeting.
She brings a glass to her lips, and I know without smelling it that it’s vodka. “Sebastian. I see you’ve acquired a new plaything.”
“It’s not like that.”
“I should hope it’s exactly like that and nothing more.”
“She’s a friend.”
“If you care about her at all, you’ll send her on her way before it’s too late.”
Jesus. She’s really on one tonight.
“You’re drunk, Mother. I’m not him.” She knows whom I’m referring to. My father’s death left my mother a shell of the person she once was. Losing her husband and knowing she’ll outlive her child will do that to a person, I suppose.
“I’m going to turn in,” she announces. It always amuses me that she speaks with an air of confidence that comes from a life of being wealthy and powerful, though she’s been anything but for the past thirty years. My mother comes from money, and looking at her, you’d think she lives in a palace, not a shitty travel trailer. Her parents gave her a choice: them or my father. She chose the latter. And now look what she has to show for it.
I think that’s why Valeen has a soft spot for her, even though they rarely see eye to eye. The one thing they do have in common is their love for my father. Despite her words, I know she loves me, too. Loves me so much she drinks to forget my fate, and the older I get, the more she imbibes.
I have the urge to comfort her—to offer words of encouragement—but I come up empty, like always. I can’t tell her it’ll be okay. I won’t tell her there’s hope, unlike Valeen.
“Valeen?” she questions.
“You go ahead. My grandson has a bone to pick with me.”
Once she’s out of earshot, I cross my arms, leaning up against the tailgate Valeen stands in front of. “You know I don’t appreciate you telling Selina my personal shit.”