Page 36 of Out of the Blue

Can I really trust he’ll stay at my side?

No one ever has.

I bite my bottom lip and force my thoughts to the more urgent matter—how to counteract the article about Maurice. It’s not as easy as getting his eye doctor to give a statement. This smear campaign needs more. Something bigger.

My mind’s bouncing from one idea to another when my phone rings. “Mamá” comes up on the screen. Just what I needed.

With dread, I pick up her call. If I don’t, she’ll continue to bug me over the next hours until I do. Might as well suffer now. “Hola.”

She doesn’t waste a second of time on pleasantries. Jumping right in, she says, “Two creditors called here today looking for you. Two. Today. What are you going to do about them? I don’t want my phone ringing off the hook with your people calling.”

I take a deep breath and wrap my fingers around my cup filled with hot coffee. “They’re not ‘my people.’ And it isn’t my debts they’re calling about.”

“Seems to me it’s your name on the credit cards, so makes them your debts.”

I match her bitchy tone. “Don’t answer the phone, then.”

“I have to. It’smyhome phone. And I get calls from my friends who want to talk with me, believe it or not.”

Unlike me. If I never had to talk with my mother again, I wouldn’t be broken up over it. But she did let me crawl back to her apartment when Big Rolls kicked me out. My voice softens. “Then say you’re not Cordelia and hang up.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing, but the calls continue. I have half a mind to change the number. Of course, you’ll have to foot the bill since you’re the reason I need to change it in the first place.”

My ire reignites. I gulp some hot coffee and bite back a cough. “I’m not paying for any such thing. Hang up on them or don’t answer, but I will not foot the bill for your getting a new telephone number.”

She huffs. “And that’s not all. Juanita’s school needs to be paid off today or she can’t go.”

Anger at my reckless mother rushes through my veins. Any good will she garnered when she let me back into her house evaporates. “If you hadn’t lost all of it in Atlantic City, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Her equally annoyed voice irritates me. “I was assured it was a winner.”

“Betting on red never is a winning strategy.” Air expels from my mouth and I leap up and stride into the living room as she goes off on a tirade about how the casino changed up the croupier mid-game when she was winning. How the new one was mean to her, pointing out when her chips weren’t stacked appropriately. Whatever. She still lost all of my sister’s tuition money and set me back months—if not longer—in paying off the credit card bills Big Rolls ran up on me.

And a loan from Apex isn’t on the table.

This conversation, if that’s what you call it, is going nowhere. Huge bills loom in front of me. Not to mention the massive issue I need to resolve about Maurice. Plus dealing with Trent’s revelation. “Mamá, I have to go to work. Here’s a piece of unsolicited advice. Check the caller id.”

I toss my phone onto the coffee table and stalk across the room. Despite it being freezing outside, I open the French doors and step onto the balcony where a cold wind whips my hair in all directions. I open my mouth and scream across the courtyard. “Bitch!”

Anger flows through my body. Using my boot-clad foot, I kick the two chairs out here, causing one to flip over. Leaving it on the concrete, I walk to the railing and grasp the cold metal. Squeezing tight, I close my eyes and count to ten. When I exhale, my breath comes out in a wisp of air. Early morning Massachusetts fall coldness seeps into my cheeks. My earlobes register the cool temperature.

Removing my hands from the railing, I rub them together to get my circulation going again. Spinning around, I return to the warmth of the room, closing the French doors behind me.

My mother makes me want to commit murder sometimes. Well, usually. But her annoyance about the bill collectors does require my attention. I leave Trent’s suite, go to my own room, gather both my suitcase and laptop, and return. After all, my coffee’s here.

Picking up my cup, I sit on a stool at the counter and fire up my computer, opening a spreadsheet. At the top, I type, “Juanita’s Tuition - $5,000.” Skipping several rows, I type “Credit Cards - $20,000.”

Think, Cordelia. You need to get these paid off. With my promotion, I’ll be seeing extra money in my paycheck without all the expenses of my regular life.If only someone would help me with them.Cut the damsel in distress bullshit. Life isn’t some stupid fairy tale where a man rides in on a horse and saves the day. If it’s going to be, it’s up to me.

The door to the bedroom opens and Trent’s voice carries to my ears. “Cordy?”

“In the kitchen. Be right out.”

Before I can get my limbs to move, he drifts into the room. “What’cha doing?” He stops behind me.

Slamming the laptop shut, I reply, “Just working on some personal stuff.”

Standing behind me, he turns the stool so I’m surrounded by his body. He bends forward and nuzzles my neck. I tilt it to give him better access before regaining my senses and sitting up straight.

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