Page 22 of The Grumpy Billionaire
Calling the station where I’d worked before Channel 3, she asked me to come home and check on my mom and brothers.
“I’m getting too old to go pick them up in the middle of the night when they get into trouble,” she’d said. “And I hate to say it, but I’m not sure either of your parents are up to handling it. They’re each pretty deep in their own troubles. I think she's depressed, and he’s checked out, totally in denial about the divorce. I’m not sure what to do, but maybe you will.”
I’d never known her to exaggerate, and once I’d gotten here and had a real look at what passed for Neely family home life these days, I saw that she hadn’t—at all. I only wish I’d realized it sooner, but it’s kind of hard to know what’s going on back home when you live two thousand miles away.
Mom and Ricardo came in through the garage door well after midnight, giggling as they entered the kitchen and headed for the fridge.
Like hers, his long hair was bleached blonde, and his skin bore the evidence of a recent visit to the tanning salon. Also like her, he wore leather pants and a midriff-baring top.
Had they intended to wear matching outfits for their “date” tonight?
I got up from the couch, where I’d been reading. “Hi,” I said, startling them both.
Mom whirled around, her hand at the base of her throat. “Mara. You scared me. What are you still doing up?”
Her eyes went to the clock on the microwave. “It’s late.”
“I’m not tired,” I lied. It had been alongday. “I’m drunk-sitting. Bowie and Bax have each been up twice to vomit, and my money says they’re not finished yet. Hi Ricardo.”
“Hi Mara. I saw you on TV tonight at five. You just keep getting more gorgeous—bitch.”
The line was delivered with a friendly smile, so I took it as the compliment it was intended to be.
“Thanks. You too.” His Botox-ed forehead and lip fillers matched my mom’s as well.
He smiled, pleased.
“Did you two have fun tonight?” I asked.
“We did.” Mom did a twirl in front of the fridge, holding the seltzer bottle she’d taken from it. “There was an amazing DJ.”
“And a burlesque show,” Ricardo added. “I kept saying, let me up there on that stage. I’ll show you some burlesque that’ll make your nipple rings quiver.”
He laughed loudly and did a silly shoulder shake followed by some enthusiastic twerking. I had to laugh, too. Ricardo was definitely entertaining—I could see why Mom liked being with him, even if she was aiming her Cupid’s Bow in the wrong direction.
“You are so bad,” she scolded as she laughed. “You’d probably better get going. You’re going to have under eye bags for your seven a.m. class—unless you’d rather stick around and help clean up after two puking teenagers.”
Ricardo clutched his face and made an expression of mock horror.
“Oh my God, my beauty sleep is ticking away.” He pretended to rush around in a panic. “Where’s my silk pillowcase? Where’s my retinol?”
Turning to me, he said, “Bye doll. See you soon.”
I got up to give him a hug. “Bye. Drive safe.”
Mom walked him to the door where they exchanged air kisses and said goodbye. When she returned to the kitchen, her smile was gone, and her shoulders drooped.
She looked exhausted.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Sure. Why?” She threw a see-how-fine-I-am fake smile over her shoulder as she opened the fridge to put the seltzer back inside.
“I don’t know, you seem a little… sad. You’ve seemed sad a lot lately.”
She wheeled on me, all pretenses of cheerfulness dropped. “I’m not sad. I told you we hadfuntonight. Ricky and I always have fun—unlike your father and me. By the way, you never answered me earlier. Did you hear what I said? He called hereagaintoday.”
Her face twisted into a sneer as she referred to the man who’d sired me.
