Page 17 of Sour Brew Face

“I don’t need to see it, Mary Opal, my mom’s word is enough. Everything she’s done for me—”

“Was her choice. You don’t owe her anything.”

I grip the phone tighter, hearing the plastic crack, “I owe her everything.”

“Then what’s left for you? For the woman you marry? For the family you build?”

“You don’t understand—”

She clears her throat. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I didn’t mean to upset you, Langston, truly. I’m sorry.”

My mind is whirling with thoughts and memories of my life. And my heart is beating so fast I’m surprised I’m not exhaling smoke.

“I gotta go.” I say absently into the phone, ignoring the spike of pain from her gasp.

“I’m sorry, Langston. We can talk about something else.”

With a husky voice and a heavy heart, I end the call, “Not tonight. It’s late, Mo, you should get some sleep. I’ll talk to you later.”

I don’t wait for her to respond, ending the call and throwing my phone to the foot of my bed. What does she know about my mom? Nothing, that’s what. Less than nothing.

But what if she’s right? Emerson is my brother. I helped raise him, despite being only a few years older than him. At one time I thought I knew him better than I knew myself. I questioned his behavior at the time, how he could just up and leave, but mom told me about his note, and I believed her. Why wouldn’t I?

And my father. I haven’t given him much thought over the years, aside from cursing his name when something would happen to mom, and I, alone, was there to help her. She could have used a partner, someone to lean on and shoulder the burden of raising two boys.

Leaning over the side of my bed, I grab my laptop I usually use when jerking off and pull up a web browser. I sit with my fingers lightly tapping the keys. Do I want to find Emerson? Yes. I do. I always have, I thought I was respecting his wishes. But how do I know?

Damn Mo for putting these doubts in my head. I take in a deep breath and exhale loudly into the lonely quiet of my apartment. I type “Emerson Mayes” into the search bar. My excitement at seeing results is short lived when I click on the links and realize none of these people are my brother.

In the search bar, I type in “private investigators near me”. Several options pop up, but I can’t bring myself to click on any of them. It’s enough that I got this far. Besides, it’s late and no one is open now anyway. I close my laptop and toss it down by my phone.

I’m not ready. Don’t know if I ever will be. Either mom told the truth and I’m setting myself up for heartbreak all over again, or she lied and…and…nope, I can’t think about that option.

Great, now, I’m wide awake and can’t even muster up a good wank with all this shit in my head. It’s going to be a long fucking night.

Mo 15.

“But if you upset him, are you sure you want to go in there?” Amelia asks me for the third time since I texted her to meet me for drinks earlier. Her concern is justified and appreciated. I’ve never had another chick to look out for me or talk me down from crazy.

However, I know I overstepped last night, despite my good intentions, and I need to see him face to face and make it right.

I stop her right outside the door to Mayes and put my hands on her shoulders. Staring into her eyes, I nod my head. “I’m sure. It’s the right thing to do. His relationship with his mom might be weird, but I shouldn’t have said anything, especially so soon.”

Amelia quirks a perfectly manicured eyebrow at me and worries her full lips. “Weird how? Like Norman Bates weird? Or Cersei and Joffrey?” A surprised laugh escapes me at the possibly accurate depictions based on my limited interaction with Ms. Mayes.

“I do not believe that Langston has murdered anyone, and his mother is alive and well, not a skeletal in a rocking chair.” My gaze falls over her shoulder as I think about it some more. I rub my shoulder when she punches me. “Ow! What was that for?”

“You were picturing her skeleton in a rocking chair.” I gasp and step back, holding my fingers crossed in front of me to ward of the devil that inhabits Amelia’s perfect body.

“How did you know, are you a mind reading demon?” She giggles, shaking her head.

“No, you had this eerieCheshire Catgrin and sang, ‘Dem bones, dem bones, dem rockin’ bones.’”

“Regardless of how I feel about the she-devil, she’s still his mother. And I suspect she’s withheld a lot of information from him and possibly manipulated his life to suit her needs.”

“Damn.” Amelia’s face falls as she takes in my words. “That’s heavy for the first few dates. And you haven’t even fucked him yet. It’s not too late to back out.”

I shake my head, I’m already in deep with the man. He’s not just a handsome face with a fuckable body. He’s smart and witty and genuine. And even though his mom is certifiable, it’s so sweet how devoted he is to her. Sort of.

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