Page 32 of Boyfriend of the Hour
“After you left, someone named Shawn came by the house looking for you,” Lea put in.
Goose bumps rose all over my arms. I was glad my jacket covered them.
“The change,” Matthew said. “Does that guy have something to do with it?”
I stared at my hands, unable to look at either of them. I wasn’t a bad liar, but my siblings knew every tell. It was imperative, however, that no one in my family ever know the mistake and former addiction that was Shawn Vamos. One that had started long before I’d ever thought I could dance on Broadway.
“Who is he?” Matthew pressed. “What did he want?”
Yeah, right. I wasn’t about to tell my overprotective, former prosecutor brother aboutthat. No way, no how. That shit was going with me to the grave.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Some guy.”
On my other side, Lea snorted. “Probably another boyfriend of the hour. Is that where you went last night? To meet up with him?”
She looked over the clothes I still had on from last night. Judgment was practically oozing out of every pore she had. Again.
“For your information, that was a brand-newone-night stand, Lea. Don’t worry. I don’t remember the guy’s name, but we definitely used protection. I’m not always as dumb as you think I am.”
Lea and Matthew traded identically exasperated looks. Matthew stood up, clearly having had enough of this conversation. Or maybe he just didn’t want to hear about his baby sister getting her fair share of tail too.
“I’m gonna go,” he told Lea more than me.
She stood and crossed the room, then delivered a kiss to both of his cheeks, just like Nonna would. “Drive safe.”
“Always do.” He pulled up the collar of his wool overcoat and then turned to me. “The offer stands, Jo. Anytime you want a new place to land, let me know. I’ll get you on the train before you know it.”
The door closed behind him, leaving me in the room with only Lea while the sounds of crying children burst out from upstairs. She only shook her head.
“Sometimes,” she said. “You don’t have more sense than an empty piggy bank.”
“MAMMMAAAAAAA!” cried a child I identified as Baby Lupe.
Lea sighed. “Come help me with dinner. If you’re going to hang around, at least make yourself useful.”
SIX
REASONS MY KNEE INJURY CAN FUCK OFF
#5 Mind over matter. Its only a Injery if I let it be.
“Please, Tom,” I begged as I leaned toward my curmudgeonly old boss, reaching as far over the bar as I possibly could to give him a solid look down my shirt if he wanted it. “Just one itsy-bitsy, tiny little baby shift on the weekends. And then more when I blow your socks off.”
Tom’s gaze didn’t even drop to where my cleavage was fully on display. “That only works on customers, kiddo. Stand up straight and listen for the twentieth time: the answer is no. You’re not ready. And if you ask me again, you’re fired.”
I did stand up straight. And then pouted. Big time. Just like I’d been doing for the past six days, while I’d gone to look at four rooms in the Bronx, interviewed for five different waitressing jobs, and slept on the moldy old couch at the auto shop. Not one of the apartments was habitable. In two, there were mice walking across the living room floors like they were going for Sunday strolls. Meanwhile, none of the restaurants had wanted to hire me either, and unwilling to face Lea’s sanctimonious puss after my failures, I’d settled for Snickers bars and stale coffee fordinner four nights in a row in the breakroom and showered at Rochelle’s place when Carmine was at work.
I was done.
My sisters had had enough of me.
My friends had had enough of me.
I’dhad just about enough of me.
Something had to give.
Tom just continued doing some kind of calculations next to the register while Carla, the other bartender on duty, just smirked from the other end of the bar. She was one of the full-time staff, worked Tuesday through Sunday, and collected all those delicious weekend tips. I was pretty sure they’d paid for her boob job too.
