AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“That better not mean you’re job requires you to be naked.”
“It doesn’t.”
She does her best to snatch the pen out of my hands to circle another word she’s found.
“I actually get to wear more clothes.”
There’s no hesitation to throw me a sarcastic stare.
“Okay, not…exactly…more but…more coverage.”
Disbelief remains unmoved.
“And nicer.”
“Nicer how?”
“Less full out trashy.”
Rather than continue to interrogate she merely waits for additional details.
“I’m now a Cigar Girl at the most prestigious, private Cigar Club in the city, Fire & Ash.”
“You sell people cigars now instead of alcohol?”
“Basically.”
And we’re going to leave it basically because I should be alleviating my mother’s stress, not adding to it.
“It’s good money,” I insist at the same time I divert my stare to the flatscreen in the distance. “Better money.”
“Bryn, honey, if you need money-”
“I’m good,” I cut her off before the lecture I really don’t want – nor need – can ensue. “You helped pay plenty for my extended education by playing head cleaning lady in charge of Casa de Creepy.” My blue eyes meet hers. “You don’t need to pay for the rest of my life, too. I’m a big girl, not just a girl with big titties.”
Mom snickers and shakes her head.
“I can take care of myself.”
Or I can at least keep fucking try to.
“And just to put your overly concerned mind at ease, yes. I am still applying for jobs in my field, they’re just not biting. Nerdy shark pun intended.” More laughter leaves her feeble frame pushing me to not only change subjects but make an attempt to help care for her. “How about I go grab you something from the doctor approved list to eat? Maybe drink instead? Are you thirsty?”
“A bit,” she softly replies, exhaustion replacing the disappointment I previously saw. “But you don’t have to do that here. You can just call and someone from the kitchen staff will bring it. Or if they’re too busy then Clark-”
“Who is anxious to see you.”
“Or Penny-”
“Who cannot wait to not see me.”
Mom transfers our word search from my lap to hers. “You’re probably stressing the poor thing out.”
“Really?” I juvenilely poke back, stare finding hers. “You think there’s something I’ve personally done to The Little Whoremaid in my very short stay here?”
“Brynley.”
“I’m just saying…” Reaching for the bedside phone occurs in tandem with my continued mocking. “Her deal with the Sea Wench hating ways aren’t warranted. I haven’t done shit to her. I didn’t steal her voice or her fins or her ability to fucking breathe underwater.”
