Page 57 of Maxim

I’m not sure I can trust any man.

Maybe I’m broken.

The traffic crawls along as I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, on my way to my Aunt Lucia’s for dinner. It’s been a while since I visited and I figured I could catch up with Mickey at the same time.

He’s been suspiciously quiet lately, which never bodes well. I know he does all kinds of shady things online, mostly hacking into stuff for anyone willing to pay enough crypto. The guy’s a fucking crypto millionaire these days. Or so he says.

Not that anyone would know it from the way he lives. The only things he spends his ill-gotten gains on are tech and pizza.

I take a left, toward the neighborhood where Lucia and Mickey live. It’s a nice area. Lots of artisan bakeries and coffee shops. Lucia moved here after she and Uncle Ron divorced.

The SUV in my rearview mirror I noticed earlier turns left too.

I always expected Lucia to meet someone else, but she never did. She says she prefers being single and ready to mingle, but we both know it’s because she puts Mickey first. Not many men would put up with an adult son living in the basement.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Mickey was friendly and sociable, but he’s a complete asshole most of the time. He’s OK with me and he loves his mom, but with everyone else? Nope.

Lucia has zero chance of meeting a man chilled enough to overlook Mickey’s less attractive qualities. It’s sad really. She’s still gorgeous even though her hair is streaked with gray.

Any guy would be lucky to end up with such an amazing woman. Uncle Ron was an idiot for walking away.

Industrial units and office blocks turn into homes with front yards. I drive slowly through the quiet streets. There’s an old truck behind me, some guy playing music while puffing cigarette smoke out of the window, but behind him, I can still see the SUV.

Instead of turning right into Lucia’s street, I take a left and then a sharp right past the grocery store. There’s a narrow street that runs around the back so I drive my small Fiat down it and parallel park behind some large trash dumpsters.

For ten minutes, I sit there, scrolling through emails and social media notifications. I can’t hear any other vehicles, just the sound of music from the pizza shop that backs onto the alleyway.

Some guy comes out with a bag of trash and raises one eyebrow in surprise when he spots my car tucked in next to the dumpster.

“Hey, you OK, lady?” he asks as he drops the bag in the dumpster. The stench is awful and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. Jesus. Is that a fucking rat?

“Hmm yeah, just hiding. I think someone was following me.”

He looks alarmed. “Need me to call the cops? Come into the kitchen if you feel unsafe.”

I’m probably being paranoid. Pretty sure the restaurant dude thinks I am.

“It’s OK, I have to leave now.” The guy throws me another concerned look, shrugs, and then disappears back inside.

I carefully ease back out of the alley, trying not to scrape my car on the wall. Once I’m back on the street, I look both ways but there’s no sign of the SUV, so I carry on to Lucia’s house, watching in the rearview mirror, just in case.

When I arrive, Lucia opens the door beaming with a wide smile. The fragrant scent of garlic and oregano drifts out and I sigh with happiness. Nothing beats my aunt’s home cooking. She’s a literal angel in the kitchen.

We hug before I follow her inside where Mickey sits at the table, tapping away at his phone. As usual, he ignores me. But that’s OK. I know he cares.

***

“Hey Mickey, how’s things?” He looks up from the bank of screens on his wall and grunts a non-reply.

Dinner is over, the dishwasher loaded, and Lucia’s caught me up on everything happening in her life.

The small charity she works for has secured funding for a scheme where volunteers visit vulnerable seniors living alone at home. She’s busy organizing a rota. I offered to do some of the visits but she refused, saying I’m too busy and she has plenty of names on the list.

It’s probably for the best. Given the state of my life right now, the last thing any poor old lady needs is a psycho following me into her house and doing fuck know’s what to her.

Not even joking.

Vivid nightmares about red paint that looks like blood dripping down my bedroom wall wake me up most nights. Jane hasn’t said anything but I know I’ve disturbed her a couple of times.

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