Page 85 of Dizzy

Her blue eyes glint, and there’s no natural light in this basement.

“Let’s try this again.” She flashes her white teeth. “I’m Sharon. Parker and Carson’s mother.”

She says it likeThomas Edison, inventor of the lightbulborGeorge Washington, father of our country. Sharon, mother of Parker and Carson.

But if she’s offering an olive branch, I shouldn’t be critical.

“I’m Fay-Lee.”

She blinks. Then she raises her eyebrows. And waits.

“Parsons.” Folder of laundry. Eater of pizza.

“Fay-Lee Parsons,” she repeats. “And are you living here?”

“Yeah. For now.”

“For now,” she echoes, pursing her lips. “And are you and Dwayne in . . . some kind of relationship?”

Good question. Not gonna touch it.

I try a diversion. “Parker and Carson are great kids.” I smile and try really hard to sound sincere. Theyaregreat. It’s just what I really want to say to this woman is “Fuck off.”

“Yes. They are.” She’s not diverted. From the look on her face, she’s doing complicated math in her head. Maybe how much force it’d take to launch me into space.

She doesn’t care for me one bit, but based only on the snide way she says “Dwayne,” I don’t think it’s ‘cause she’s carrying a torch for her ex.

“Listen. We got off on the wrong foot.” She pauses. I nod. “It’s just—You’resoyoung, honey. I was your age once. I know the allure of the ‘bad boy.’ But there’s no future in it.” She puts on the fakest sympathetic face. “Do you need some money? To get home?”

I didn’t ever think my pride would stop me from taking cash. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

“Oh, but honey, you’renot. I’m sure this is not what your mother wants for you. You deserve better.”

I bet her mother didn’t want her messing around with Dizzy. And going by the pantsuit and the fancy phone, I think I understand what she means by “better.”

I get the angle she’s trying to play. It’s like when Shiloh fell for Maddox onIn the Arms of Love. Miranda thought she’d saved Shiloh from the mob when she adopted her, and it killed her to watch her daughter fall for the Capo of the Fortunetti Syndicate. Miranda guilted Shiloh to come home, playing the “you deserve better” card.

The only problem is that this is real life. My mother doesn’t want things for me. She wants thingsfromme. And as for what I deserve?

Life isn’t about what you “deserve.” It’s about what you can get and manage to hold on to.

Right now, I’ve got Dizzy. And I’m not letting go for this bitch.

“Honey, with all due respect, I don’t need your advice.”

She sighs. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I guess we all have to learn the hard way.”

She heads for the stairs, and then she pauses, her foot on the first step. Yeah, she has a flare for the dramatic. She turns, her face smug, as if a thought has occurred to her.

“Oh. Fair warning, sweetie. You don’t want to get too comfortable. You’re not the first half-naked skank I’ve found in this house. You’d think y’all would take a hint from the décor, but maybe that’s why he picks ‘em so young. You don’t question it.”

I try so hard not to rise to the bait, but I’m only human. “Question what?”

She rounds her heavily-lined eyes. “Why we’ve been divorced for years, and Dwayne’s kept the house exactly like I decorated it. Are my clothes still in the closet?” She trills a mean laugh. “I bet they are. I would even bet he’s still holding on to my wedding ring. Check my jewelry box. I’m sure it’s in there.”

She shakes her head. “You might think you’re special, but you’re not. You’re being used, and you’re gonna end up cast off and traded in for a newer model while Dwayne waits for me to come back. You should go home. Go back to school. Make something of yourself. This is a dead end.Honey.”

And she exits, swishing her frilly, pantsuited ass as she goes. I hear the screen door slam and the crunch of Dizzy’s truck pulling up.

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