Page 128 of American Hellhound
“Are you sleeping with him?” Small tremor in her lower lip.
“Yes.” There was no sense lying about something like that. No one would believe they were living together and not having sex.
Denise took a shuddering breath. “Why him?”
“I like him. He likes me.”
“There are lots of boys you could like.”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “But ‘like’ is a weak word. I want to do more than like someone.” She turned it back around with: “Why did you marry Dad?”
“Because he was well-educated, respectful, and successful.”
“We have different standards, then.”
“Obviously.” Her eyelid twitched. “You’ve stopped all your after-school activities.”
“They’re not important.”
“They will make you a better, more well-rounded person.”
“According to your standards.” She wasn’t going to admit that her education had already served her in this new crazy biker life of hers.
Denise closed her eyes for ten full seconds, breathing deeply, during which time Maggie’s food arrived. Then she said, “What do you want?” her voice rough.
Maggie paused in the act of picking up her sandwich. “Excuse me?”
“You aren’t happy at home. You think I’m overbearing. What will it take to bring you back where you belong? Is it a car? A larger allowance? What?”
She was stunned. She set her sandwich down and wiped her hands on her napkin, palms suddenly clammy. “This wasn’t a stunt.”
“Of course it was.” Denise looked wounded. “You wanted to punish me, and you’ve accomplished that. Let’s be done with it already.”
“Ghost and I–”
“Listen to yourself. Ghost. That isn’t even a real name. It sounds like something you’d call an actual dog.” She dropped her voice to an irate hiss. “He’s a piece ofshit, Margaret. He’sbeneathyou. Can we please stop the charade now? You’ve made your point.”
“Mom,” Maggie said, as carefully as she could manage. “I love him.”
“That’simpossible. He’strash. Worse than trash. You can’tlovetrash.”
“Stop talking like that about him.” The first tremor of anger crept into her voice.
“Or what? You’ll run off and live with him? You’re already doing that. The only way it could be worse was if you were carrying his baby.” She made a horrified face. “You aren’t, are you?”
Maggie threw her napkin onto the table and slid out of her seat. “This was real productive, Mom, we should do this again.”
“If you walk away now, don’t expect anything from me ever again,” Denise threatened, chest heaving, white teeth gleaming between the blood red slashes of her painted lips.
“Don’t worry, I never expected anything from you.” She turned away and walked out of the restaurant without looking back.
Her hands were shaking when she climbed into the truck, but still, she didn’t look toward the windows, didn’t hesitate. She started the engine and peeled away from the curb, heading back to her real life, and away from this plastic farce that was finally, finally over.
Twenty-Four
Now
“Good morning!” Julian greeted, presenting Maggie a menu with a flourish the moment she settled into her booth. He handed one to Ava as well, beaming. “What can I get you lovely ladies to drink?”
