Page 12 of Broken Lines

“Uh,first of all, I don’t want your money. I just got looped into something big and was thinking…” she shrugs. “I was just thinking that maybe my dear daughter might want in on it, too.That’s all.”

“Is this code for buying drugs?”

She sighs heavily. “No,you freaking narc. But if you think you might be interested, it’s an investment opportunity.”

I snort.

“Really.”

“Yesreally, Melody. And quite a lucrative one. Have you been hearing about crypto coin?”

I groan as I start to turn “Okay, I’m out—”

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, Melody! And I’d just need to borrow like…twenty-thousand,max—”

“Thereit is!” I bark coldly. “Wow, Judy. You actually almost surprised me with that one!”

“Did you just come here to be a cunt or was there another reason?!” She snaps back.

I almost say no. I almost forget the whole thing, mentally write off the job at Ignition, and leave. But that’s not a win for me.

It’d be another Judy win. It’d be one more thing I lose out on, because of her. One more opportunity I don’t get, or miss out on taking, because my mother is too high to bring me to an audition. Or she’s off banging a famous guy on a tour bus in Georgia and can’t sign the permission slip. Or I’m too scarred and shattered and silenced to eventakethe leap because of what the monster she let in did to me those years ago.

My teeth grind and my lips thin lethally.

No. I willnotlet her take another opportunity from me.

I take a slow breath, trying to calm myself before my lips form the words.

“Is it true?”

Her brow knits. “Is what true?”

“What you said in that interview. About…” I look away. “About Jackson Havoc.”

The living room goes quiet.

“Which part?”

I swallow as I turn back to her. “The part where you know where he is?”

She smiles.

God. Fucking. Damnit.

I groan as my shoulders—and the hope for a job at Ignition Magazine—slump.

When you live with a narcissistic liar, you get good at knowing their “tell”, like in a poker game. And Judy’s tell, without fail, is to smile like that whenever she’s completely full of shit.

“Of course, you don’t—”

“Well, c’mon, Mel!” She sighs. “Rolling Stone didn’t want a boring interview! They wanted the good stuff!”

“They wantedthe truth, Judy,” I mutter. “Not your concocted fantasy.”

She rolls her eyes, waving her hand haphazardly.

“They just wanted something juicy from yours truly. And they got what they paid for.”

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