Page 35 of More Than Nothing
The third person was Craig Perry.
“Hello, ladies!” His greeting was smooth. The smarmy douchebag crossed the crowded kitchen to take Athena’s hand for a kiss. Elenie gave an internal eye roll, shoving both of her own hands behind her back and shifting up against the counter.
“Hey, babe.” Athena dropped onto a chair, her body listing toward Frank.
He grabbed a four-pack from the fridge, popped the top of one and dumped the rest on the table. Laying broad hands on her mother’s bony shoulders, he gave them a surprisingly gentle squeeze, pressing his mouth to the top of Athena’s head. Elenie looked away, a pain throbbing in her damaged jaw from the clenching of her teeth.
“Elenie.” Craig nodded in her direction. He gave no reaction to the bruises on her face, even though his snitching had put them there.
Her toast popped up. Tyson, standing nearest, swiped a slice and took a bite. You are a cretinous asshole, she told him with her eyes. Ty grinned, a diamond stud glistening in each ear. Elenie grabbed the other piece of toast, reaching for a plate from the cupboard and a knife from the drainer.
“I’ve got a business dinner next Saturday, Ellie. Wanna keep me company?” asked Craig.
She didn’t bother to look up as she buttered her toast. “No, thanks.” Her knockback in the Rusty Barrel hadn’t made a lasting impression then.
“Have a think about it and let me know tomorrow,” Craig pushed.
“Don’t need to,” she told him around a mouthful. “I can’t make it.”
Frank stepped between Elenie and the doorway as she tried to leave the kitchen. The scent of strong bar soap scoured her nostrils. Her pulse raced. “Don’t tell me you have a better offer.” His eyes flicked over the marks on her face.
“It’s not that,” she said, taking courage from the number of people around her, friendly or not. The handle of the knife bit into her palm. “I’m just choosing to focus on myself right now.”
“Be careful, darlin’. Be very careful.” Frank spoke the words quietly against her cheek. His breath brushed her ear.
Elenie’s stomach rolled like a washing machine on a slow cycle. Pushing past him, she headed for the stairs, blocking out the sound of Craig and Tyson laughing as she hit the first step.
It was a bolt from the blue when Roman sent a text the following afternoon, asking if she’d like to have Sunday lunch with his family.
After a shift that had crawled by, she was waiting in Mocha Magic—a cute little café in sorbet colors—for Summer and Caitlyn to arrive. Seven hours of carrying trays had made her bruised ribs ache and her feet hurt. It was good to sit down.
She stared at her cell, debating so long over how to reply that a second message pinged through.
Thea (Roman):
I can hear you thinking from here
An echo of the words he’d said to her on Otto’s porch. Elenie gave a silent laugh and another text followed.
Thea (Roman):
Just say yes
Oh, God. She wanted to.
That’s not a good idea.
Thea (Roman):
It’s just lunch. I can get you there safely
She closed her eyes.
Sunday lunch was not an occasion in the Dax household. No one ate together. In fact, Elenie couldn’t remember the last time the oven had been used. The stovetop maybe. Fried foods and pasta with jars of sauce were how Frank and the boys stayed alive. Elenie, too. Her mother existed mainly on booze.
The idea that Roman Martinez even wanted to ask her for lunch, after everything she’d told him, spread like hot buttered rum beneath her skin.
Was it so bad to want to see what normal might feel like?
