Page 9 of His Big Bad Stick

It feels good to laugh.

Then I feel like crying.

Before the tears can come, the hallway door opens and I see Mom.

New sunglasses on the top of her head, a fresh tan on her skin, new makeup, clothes, everything. She looks stunning. Luxurious. She’s smiling ear to ear.

“Did you lock yourself out?”

“Power got shut off,” I say. “I completely-”

“Good,” Mom says. “Fuck them. Pack a bag.”

“What?” I ask.

Mom sticks her left hand down and into my face.

My jaw drops.

“I know!” Mom cries out. “I can’t believe it either!”

It looks like Mom had an eventful few days away.

It looks like Mom got married.

I’m used to this kind of thing.

The whole pack-a-bag-we’ve-got-thirty-minutes-to-get-out-of-here routine.

Normally it’s a landlord or management company coming after us. This time, Mom and I are moving into some giant house with her new husband.

Yeah.

New husband.

“You’ve never heard of him before?” Mom asks me.

She stands in the doorway like a teenager in love.

Practically floating in the air.

“No,” I say. “You said… Caspian?”

“Jack,” she says. “What a great name, right? I wasn’t even looking for someone! I was just at a bar, having a drink. I heard someone say his name and I looked.”

“Love at first sight, huh?”

“More than that, Abrielle,” Mom says.

“Gross.”

“Not gross. Beautiful.”

Nothing like picturing your mother humping some stranger in the bathroom of a bar.

“It was amazing,” Mom says. “He swept me right off my feet, Abrielle. I know I’ve said that before. But this time…” She sticks out her left hand again.

“Mom, that’s…” Fucking insane? Fucking stupid? Fucking childish?

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