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I stood, facing my bed, with my hands on my protruding hip bones as my mother tied the silky straps on my skimpy black halter top.
“So, let me get this straight,” she said, tightening the bow. “You have a date with a bartender tonight, but Ken doesn’t even know you guys are broken up yet.” My easygoing hippie mom wasn’t a judgmental person, but I was definitely picking up some notes of disapproval in her tone.
I spun around and gave her a death glare. “He might know, okay? I left him a voicemail.”
She raised one orangey-red eyebrow at me.
“Don’t give me that look! What am I supposed to do? Stick around for another six months just to see if he accidentally trips and falls into some feelings? Fuck that!”
My mom held her hands up. “Okay. Fine.”
“Sorry.” I gave her an apologetic half-smile and gestured to the clothes strewed all over my bed. Pointing between two different pairs of pants, I asked, “Tiger stripes or pleather?”
My mom glanced between the garments. Then she pointed to a pair of python-print pants on the floor by the closet. “Snakeskin. Those are my favorite.”
“Good call.” I snatched the tight vinyl pants off the floor and began shimmying my shapeless legs into them.
“You know”—my mom cleared her throat—“bartenders tend to be very promiscuous. If anything happens with this boy tonight, be sure to use protect—”
“Mom!” I glared at her as I zipped up my pants.
Her freckled face was bright crimson, and she was twirling the end of her long red hair in her fingers.
“I know, okay? God!”
“I just want you to be safe.” She blushed.
“I will be. I am! Jeez.” I shoved my feet into my unlaced combat boots and sat on the edge of my bed to tie them.
“I also don’t want you giving poor, sweet Ken the clap when you guys get back together.”
“Mom!” I snatched a pillow off my bed and threw it at her.
She chuckled as she turned sideways, letting it bounce off her tie-dye-covered shoulder.
“Get out!” I shouted, pointing at the door. “Get out of my room! You’re banished for life!”
“Tell Ken I said hi,” she teased, twiddling her fingers at me as she slipped out the door backward.
“We are NOT getting back together! Do you hear me?” I yelled after her. “Fuck Ken Easton!”
I stomped back over to my floor-length mirror to give myself one last look before heading out to Fuzzy’s Bar & Grill.
What the hell is wrong with her?I thought, straightening my tank top. She’s always been there for me whenever I’ve gone through a breakup. Now, she’s acting like I’m not even serious. Well, I am. I’m dead serious.
I applied another swipe of mascara and prayed to the universe for low humidity so that the two-tone nightmare I’d just spent half an hour straightening wouldn’t frizz up. Semi-satisfied with my slutty appearance, I grabbed my purse and headed out the door on a mission to secure the world’s fastest rebound guy.
Fuck Ken Easton. Fuck him right in his dick hole.
