Page 22 of Boyfriend of the Hour
“Better than nothing,” I cut back. “And unlikeyou, I have a job.”
“Hey,” Frankie said sharply. “Raising children is most definitely a job, Jo.”
I swallowed. Okay, that was a low blow. Especially in this crowd. Frankie had raised her daughter alone for four whole years. And it was no secret that Lea had to give up her own career to take care of her brood. And then there was everything she, Matthew, and Nonna had done for the rest of us.
But that was different. I didn’t know how, but it was.
“Well, I got a promotion at Opal, didn’t I?” I rattled on. “Tom has been teaching me how to mix drinks. I’m a bartender now, not just a shot girl or on the platforms.”
“But it’s been months since then,” Kate pointed out. “And you still only work two shifts a week. Tom can’t give you any more?”
I pressed my mouth into a thin line. I wasn’t going to tell them about how many times Tom had refused that particular request, claiming my skills were not up to the chaos that took over Opal on the weekends. Or how many other bars had refused to hire me, given my lack of experience. Or how many other interviews for hostessing or waiting tables I had just plain skipped because I couldn’t bear being told I was inadequate one more time.
“What else do you do with your time?” Lea wondered. “‘Physical therapy’? ‘Working out’?” She mimed bunny ears with each phrase that made me want to smack her.
“Ihavebeen doing physical therapy,” I protested, but even I knew that was B.S.
When my union benefits lapsed, I hadn’t been able to see a physical therapist for more than a few weeks after my surgery this summer. So, on my days off, instead of coming home to help or finding another job like I knew I should, I’d go to my old dance studio to continue with the exercises in the hope that maybe, just maybe, things would heal on their own.
It was the same every time. I’d get through a warm-up. Do a few simple routines. Feel good, if a little out of practice. That was to be expected.
Then I’d try something harder, like a fouetté or a jump.
And land right on my ass, knee throbbing, gritting through the pain.
Anterior cruciate ligament tear. That’s what the doctors called the event that killed my dream in exactly one and a half seconds.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Frankie said. “No one’s keeping track. But there’s still just the harsh reality that you have to move out, Jo. Nonna leaves tomorrow, and the new renters are moving in on Monday. Time’s up.”
“What if I just stayed here?” I blurted out. “Can’t we just call the renters and cancel? I’d take care of the place better than strangers anyway.”
Literally, everyone around the room snorted in unison. It was like being surrounded by a bunch of snarky horses.
“What?” I pressed. “I would! It’s all paid off, isn’t it? Honestly, Nonna, why can’t I just stay here and take care of the house for you?”
Nonna just walked through the room and patted my cheek like she might a delusional child’s. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s done.”
“Besides,” Lea said with anotherJoni-is-an-idiotsigh. “Nonna has to pay rent in Rome too. What, do you think our seventy-eight-year-old grandmother should get a job waiting tables instead of you?”
“I didn’t say that,” I said. “Just that?—”
“Are you really so selfish that you would rather cost her good income so you can keep freeloading forever?” Lea’s voice was harsh, but not completely unfair. She knew it, and I knew it.
And so did everyone else, which is why they didn’t argue with her either.
I opened my mouth, then shut it, trying and failing to keep my face from flushing bright red.
No. I wasn’t selfish.
And I wasn’t a freeloader.
I was just…scared. Not that I would ever admit that to anyone, but it was the truth. There was only one thing I had ever been good at, but that wasn’t an option anymore.
All I had had after that was my family. Was this place.
And now I wouldn’t have that either.
I looked at the bed where I’d only sleep for one more night, at the scattered boxes filled with old dance costumes, jewelry, and random bits and bobs, at my sisters, all watching me with equal parts fear and pity. My eyes pricked with tears.
