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“Ha,” she said, but she didn’t sound amused. “I don’t know about that. She’s… something else.”
We arrived at the Longwood Medical Area, where the treatment center was, and pulled into the adjacent parking garage. Faith hopped out of the car immediately, nervously smoothing her dress. “I shouldn’t have worn this,” she said.
“It suits you,” I offered, confused at her assessment. “What’s wrong with your outfit?”
Faith scowled. “It’s too nice. My mother will be all over it.”
“I don’t understand.”
Faith started hustling to the garage’s exit. “You will in a minute.”
She abruptly stopped. “Actually, would you consider waiting in the car?” Faith didn’t sound too hopeful.
“No,” I said immediately. I sensed that although Faith could handle herself, the impending meeting with her mother had her rattled.
She nodded. “I didn’t think so. But let me deal with this, okay? I don’t want you on her radar.”
Intrigued, I followed Faith out of the garage and onto the bustling sidewalk of the Longwood Medical Area. Boston had a reputation for having the finest doctors and healthcare in the world. I was glad that Faith’s brother was being cared for in such a cutting-edge environment.
We headed inside the treatment center, and Faith checked in at the front desk. I was impressed by how she handled herself. She was so young, and she’d had a tumultuous few days at the club. But Faith was polite, firm, and self-assured as she interacted with the center’s staff.
That is until she turned around. She peered past me to a woman sitting in the lobby. The waif-thin, reedy woman was glaring at Faith, the many wrinkles in her face creasing with displeasure. She had long, stringy, unnaturally orange hair, eyes lined heavily with black eyeliner, and thin lips puckered into a scowl. She wore a black Boston Bruins T-shirt and Capri jeans.
“You gotta lotta nerve showing up here,” the woman growled. Her voice sounded like a carton of cigarettes.
Faith’s face fell.
And although they looked nothing alike, that’s when I knew the woman was her mother.
CHAPTER FOUR
a family affair
Faith
Fuck. My mother looked worse than usual, which was saying something. She’d smeared some concealer under her eyes, but it was so white it made her look like a clown.
A scary clown.
Boy, did I ever hate clowns.
“Hi, Mom.” I hustled over to her before she could continue snarling at me and cause more commotion. Cassius stayed by the desk, giving me space, for which I was grateful. A scene with my mother was always bad; having one unfold in front of Cassius would be humiliating beyond what I could bear.
“How’s Lucas?” I asked.
“Ha,” she chortled and then started coughing. “Like you give a shit. The lady said you haven’t been here for a week.”
“That’s not what I said,” the receptionist responded tersely. “I said that I haven’t been here for a week.”
“I know what I heard,” my mother hollered.“So mind your own goddamned business!”
The receptionist opened her mouth to object, but I cut her off. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly, hoping to evade a full-scale battle. “There’s just been a lot of stress lately. Mom, do you want to get a coffee?”
“Fine by me.” She looked at the receptionist and stuck her nose up in the air. “People need to respect the patient’s privacy, you know what I mean? You can’t train anybody these days.”
I took a deep breath because otherwise, I would scream. My mother was clueless about training; she hadn’t held a job in over ten years. Not to mention that nothing we were talking about had anything to do with Lucas, the actual patient. “Let’s just go get a coffee.”
My mother pulled herself up. She looked thinner than usual, her slender frame resembling one of the Menthol 100 cigarettes she religiously chain-smoked. Her beady, bloodshot eyes raked over me, missing nothing. “Where’d you get those fancy clothes, huh?”
