Page 15 of My Brother's Bad Best Friend

I glare at her, my eyes straying to the hand protectively covering her abdomen. The memory of that night comes back to me, fresh in my mind since it only happened a day ago. When she sat me down in the kitchen, Royal lingering in the background with a glass of whisky in his hand, I didn’t think my life was about to change drastically. But then she told me that she was pregnant, and my first instinct was to laugh.

”Don’t laugh at your mother, you little bitch.”

Mom composes herself, letting out a slow breath. “Aren’t you going to ask me how I’m feeling?”

“I guess,” I say.

“Well, I’m feeling good. Doctor says I’m in good shape, for a woman my age.” She laughs lightly. “I think I’m in good shape for a woman any age. Have you seen some of the ladies out on the beach lately? Oh my god, honey, they’re all so fat these days, and nobody seems to care! All because big butts are attractive.” She sneers at that, shaking her head.

I want to scream in her face. I can’t believe how vapid and empty she’s becoming, and worst of all, she wasn’t always like this. Back when she first married Royal and we moved to La Jolla, she was strong and smart and independent. She ran for local office once, and even though she lost, I was so proud of her for trying.

Things slowly changed over the years though. She got more and more surgeries, bankrolled by her scumbag husband. Things took a dive around the time I got into my accident, and never recovered since. Now all she cares about is looking good and judging other people.

That and now, apparently, having a bunch of IVF babies.

“How are you going to handle all these kids?” I ask her softly, pulling her back to reality.

She laughs lightly, although I sense a discordant note in her tone. “Easy,” she says. “We’ll hire some help, and Royal will be a great father. These are his first kids, after all.”

“But mom,” I say, not able to help myself. “You’re too old. Royal’s too old.”

She looks so hurt. I hate it, but I can’t help myself. Those are the words that set Royal off, that made him go insane.

”Don’t talk to your mother that way, you ungrateful bitch. She’s carrying your siblings, and you’re going to respect her and me.”

“I’m only fifty-two,” she says softly. “It’s not that old. It’s practically thirty these days.”

I want to tell her, no, it’s not, but I keep my mouth shut and don’t break eye contact. Finally, she looks away and sips her drink.

“Royal says you can come home.” The abrupt shift in tone means she’s done with discussing her pregnancy. “He says you can come back if you apologize to me.” She hesitates. “I can just tell him you did, if you want.”

“No,” I say flatly. “I’m not coming back.”

She looks exasperated. “Honey, please. You’re going to stay with your brother for, I don’t know, how long? What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “But I’m not living in a house with him anymore. I’m not letting him touch me again.”

Her eyes flash angry. “After everything he’s done for us—”

“No, Mom, don’t.” I push back from the table and stand. “You can carry his weird babies and get all this plastic surgery for him if you want, but I don’t worship the ground he walks on like you do.” I lean toward her, voice lowering. “He hit me, Mom.” I make sure she can see the bruise around my eye.

She doesn’t answer right away, face fallen into pain and despair. “Just come home. We’ll figure it out. He can get anger management.”

She’s desperate now. He’ll never, ever do that. “Sorry, but no.”

I turn and walk away from my mother, away from the home I’ve always known, and out into the afternoon heat.

* * *

“Is Ezra here?”

Lane’s behind the counter again and she smiles sickly-sweet at me as she makes a latte for a customer. “Nope, sorry,” she says. “He’s been out all day.”

“Oh, okay.” I look around, not sure what to do now.

“You can grab a seat if you want,” she offers. “I can tell Jonas, maybe he can find your brother.”

“I tried his cell,” I offer weakly.

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