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Nothing can stop Junior from achieving his dreams? I can think of something that might.
“Damn, Mom,” Junior laughs. “Maybe you should coach the football team. You certainly have the motivational speeches down.”
She smirks. “I may have applied for the job once or twice.”
I pick up the napkin from my lap and slide out of my chair. “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
Bonnie nods. “We’re having the one on this floor redone but the one upstairs is fine. Up the stairs and to the right.”
“Thank you.”
“Redone?” I hear Maggie quip as I leave the room. “Since when do we have rooms redone?”
I head up the stairs and the voices dim into whispers behind me.
The bathroom is just where Bonnie said it would be and I sneak inside to dab a bit of cold water on my forehead. I hold my hair to the side and let a little drip onto the back of my neck, cooling myself down as I hold my breath.
So, this is Junior Morgan’s family. Honestly, I never even pictured it. Not even once. I knew he had a sister — he mentions Maggie in some way about once a week — but other than that, he doesn’t talk about them.
And now his mother sees me as the Messiah’s beautiful daughter, sent down from heaven above to make all her baby boy’s dreams come true.
Whoops.
I step out into the hall and turn back to the stairwell when I pause, reading the tiny, faux license plate attached to the door across from the bathroom.
JUNIOR
Curiosity takes over and I twist the doorknob to let myself in.
The room is decorated black and blue with enough posters on the walls to cover up most of the white paint. Sports trophies line a shelf with medals and certificates flashing Junior’s name, most of them in gold.
I smile at a photo above his bed showing a pre-teen boy flexing in swim trunks over his big sister’s teenage head. No real muscle mass, no sign of tattoos. Just little Junior Morgan before he became who he is now.
“Ellie?”
I spin around to the door as Junior pokes his head in. “Hey,” I chuckle.
He inches towards me with suspicious eyes and nervous, pink cheeks. “What are you doing in here?”
“Snooping,” I shrug, glancing around again. He flips the picture frame down while I’m not looking. I pretend not to notice. “Sorry if I’ve invaded your private space…”
“It’s all right,” he laughs. “I honestly don’t remember most of what’s left in here.”
I scan the walls and my eyes land on a familiar face above his shoulder. It’s an old poster of my father; poised and strong in his jersey, holding a football and winking right at the camera.
“Even that?” I point.
Junior follows my gaze. “Oh…” he winces. “No, I remember that. I’ve had that for like ten years…”
“I guess you weren’t kidding when you said he was a hero of yours.”
“I really wasn’t.” He blinks at me and smiles wide. “So… who the hell are you because you are freakin’ amazing…”
I laugh. “I make a decent impression.”
“No shit.”
“I, uh…” I pause, searching my memory for the best explanation. “I used to spend a lot of time at friends’ and neighbors’ houses.”
