Page 91 of The Man Next Door
“You’re one to talk. You’re out getting trashed while I’m driving all night to make money,” Zona shot back.
But life never remained static and it didn’t have to stay bad. Zona was determined hers wouldn’t. If her daughter was sober and sensible, she’d share that insight, but since Bree was neither, there was no point.
They were almost to the freeway entrance when Bree said, “Stop. I’m gonna puke.”
All over Zona’s freshly cleaned car.No, no, no!
She almost got the car pulled over and turned off in time, but round one hit the floor.
“This is all your fault,” Bree said between heaves on the street as Zona held her hair out of the way.
“Yes, the minute I learned I was pregnant I started thinking about ways I could ruin your life.”
Once they were back in the car, her daughter got quiet. Finally, she said in a small voice, “I don’t want to go home and be all alone.”
With her bitterness and fear, that was where her life was heading. “You can stay at Gram’s.”
“I don’t want to wear Gram’s jammies.”
“Well, you’re not wearing mine,” said Zona, and turned the key in the ignition.
The car refused to start. Great. Just great. She had a barfy, angry daughter in the back seat and her car was rebelling. How she wished she had a new car with a push start. Of course, if she’d been able to afford a new car, Zona wouldn’t have beendriving people—including her angry daughter—all over Southern California. With a growl, she tried again. Nothing.
“We’re gonna be stuck here all night,” Bree predicted miserably.
“One of us is going to be stuck in the trunk if she doesn’t shut up,” Zona snapped.
“I hate my life,” Bree wailed again. In case her mother hadn’t heard her the first time. “And I hate Fen for dumping me.”
Zona ignored her. “Please start,” she begged her car.
It took pity on her and came back to life.
“Thank God,” she breathed and got them on the freeway.
Half an hour later she was hauling her daughter from a very smelly car and escorting her up the walk to Louise’s house. Thankfully, her mother had gone to bed and didn’t have to witness her granddaughter’s less than shining moment. She’d have to explain in the morning why Bree was sleeping over, but hearing about this after the fact would be better than Louise having to be stuck in the moment along with Zona.
Gilda had been in her favorite chair, crocheting. She stood at the sight of Zona and Bree. “I guess I’ll be going.”
“Thanks, I’ll pay you tomorrow night,” Zona promised.
She left Gilda to let herself out, ignored Darling, who was having a relapse and wanted to jump on her, and moved Bree upstairs to the bathroom. She made her daughter drink a glass of water, then stripped her down and stuck her in the shower. She found an old sleep tee, then took away Bree’s messed-up shirt and pants and left her to find her way to bed.
Back downstairs, she started the laundry, then got Darling’s leash on him and took him out for a final walk, trying to shake off her motherly cocktail of anger and guilt as she went. She couldn’t. It had sewn itself deep into the fabric of her being.
Next, she had to deal with cleaning her car. She wantednothing more than to fall into bed, but no way was she going to let the mess sit overnight. A quick online search on her phone assured her that white vinegar and baking soda would work wonders. She could only hope. After she’d finished, she left a bowl of white vinegar on the car floor and hoped for the best.
The next morning, she filled Louise in on her miserable first night of work over coffee and English muffins. Going light on some of the details of her daughter’s misbehavior.
“And my car barely started,” she finished. “I thought we were going to be stuck.”
“Oh, no.”
“The last thing I need is for that to die on me when I’m driving someone. It’s all I can afford, and I have to keep it going.”
“I bet Martin could tell you what’s wrong with it. I think he’s handy with cars,” said Louise.
“I hate to bother Martin,” said Zona.
