Page 12 of Resist
I laughed again. “Guys like what?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. Enlighten me.”
“Mum, I worry about you.”
“Well, you shouldn’t. I know what I’m doing. I have everything under control.”
“So why did you buy this Wild Nights thing? Was it to piss off Dad?”
I pulled my legs off the chair, placed them on the ground, and leaned forward, my voice stern. “You know that’s not why. I wouldneverintentionally piss off your father.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice less cantankerous. “I know that. I do. I just don’t understand why you chosethatparticular investment when you could’ve chosen almost anything else.”
“Because sex sells, my dear boy. It’s a lucrative and thriving industry.”
“Yes, but doyouhave to sell it?”
Standing up, I walked to the railing, gripped it with my free hand, and glanced down to the bustling street below. Pedestrians and cars travelled north and southbound like ants scouting for food. My legs tingled at the height, which I thought strange. I wasn’t afraid of heights, nor was I afraid of the dark, spiders or snakes. Those things paled in comparison to the fear of having no freedom or control, to being powerless.
“As a matter of fact,” I said, closing my eyes and soaking in the warmth of the sun against the crisp breeze. “Yes, I do have to sell it. For too long your father kept me contained and censored. He controlled my every move and my every thought. And when you’re denied the simple freedom of an opinion or to express an interest, your spirit withers. Your sense of self-worth and ability fades to nothing. You become nothing … or at least that’s what you think.”
“You were never nothing, Mum.”
I opened my eyes and found the glistening river once again. “I know that … now. And that’s why I’m finally taking the reins of my life. If that means owning a successful business in a field dominated by men, you can bet your sweet arse I’m gonna sell it, and sell it good.”
“Just be careful, and don’t let anyone treat you bad.”
My heart skipped a beat, and I clutched at my chest. “Always the protective little cherub.”
“I mean it, Mum. You’re the boss. Don’t let them manipulate you.”
The plea in his voice triggered the hairs on the back of my neck to stand, but not over his concern that I lacked control of the revue. Jason was worried about me and feared for my wellbeing, because he’d witnessed firsthand what a man was capable of doing to his mother. He’d seen her destroyed, and he’d shared in the effect.
Softening my voice, I yearned to wrap my arms around his body and hug him with as much love as a mother could conjure. No matter how old he was, he’d always be my baby. “I promise, I won’t. I’m much stronger now. I don’t take shit from anybody.”
“Not even me?”
“Not even you.”
“Damn.”
“So,” I said, stepping back from the railing. “Are you going to tell me how Uni is?”
“Busy. You can’t muck around, that’s for sure.”
“Well, you did take a year off to muck around. You shouldn’t need to muck around any further.”
“Should’ve taken two.”
“One was more than enough.”
“Geez, you really don’t take shit, do you?”
“Nope.”
“In that case, I better get going. My train is almost here.”
