Page 123 of Fire for Effect

Her perfect Jackie Kennedy bob seemed to vibrate with her agitation.

“It’s that woman!” I knew that wasn’t a positive thing. Woman. She may as well have called me a whore.

“Excuse me,” I whispered, as I tried to walk past into the door, to get to Griff’s room.

“Why is she allowed on this floor?” I wondered why Griff’s mother seemed so well acquainted with me. “Why is she allowed here, and not me?”

Though, of course, I already knew the answer.

Kristin.

“Ma’am,” A nurse came, her hands out in a placating gesture, “She’s the designated medical proxy for the patient. I’m afraid that until he’s conscious, it’ll be up to her if…”

“How dare you!” I swear, Kamilla Griffith was about to slap the poor nurse even as she stared daggers at me. “How dare you trick him into putting you on his paperwork.”

She unleashed a torrent of insults, denigrating me, my stature, my looks, my relations with men. The usual sexist nonsense one might spew when you had a rich son.

I was a gold digger. A homewrecker.

Of course, I knew that wasn’t true.

The same way I knew that she was his mother, and she… cared.

She cared about him. That’s why she was so angry.

Her baby was hurt, and she came down all the way from DC to be by his bedside.

That was more than what my mother would do.

“Let her in.” I directed my comment to Noam.

Did I want to let her in? No. But it was the right thing to do.

Having a mother who cared, even if she was imperfect, was better than having a mother who clearly did not.

“Miss Guerro, I don’t think…” Brett started, staring at the crazy-eyed woman that was a walking poster of Chanel.

Even Kamilla was struck silent by my reaction. Her eyes widened, as her hand came over her heart, the designer purse dangling from her slender elbow. Her mouth opened to speak, then closed again.

“She’s his mother,” I said, with a shrug. “She should see him.”

I trudged into Griff’s room, where Sierra sat by the bed, her single brow raised, as her lips pursed to one side.

Griff was sitting up - the top of the bed elevated, as he looked at me with weary eyes.

“Firefly,” he sighed, his lips coming up in a small smile.

“Griff…” I sighed, just as his mother pushed me out of the way and went to him.

“My baby!” She reached out her long arms, grabbing him by the face and holding him to her.

“Mom…” he grunted. “Ouch.”

But she wasn’t at all assuaged.

“What happened? I will have the entire staff fired for not informing me! I had to find out from your father, and even that was like pulling teeth. I swear that man is working my last nerve. It took me everything not to divorce him right then and there! How dare he not tell me what was happening with my son —”

She went on and on. The whole time, Griff’s eyes were on me, like I was some kind of apparition, as his mother fussed and complained.

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