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“I mean it, Mom. How did you get those bruises under your eyes? It wasn’t him, was it?” She jerks her head up.
I crane my neck and look at the terrace, expecting Declan, but I don’t see anyone. “Him who?”
“The Crossbow kid.”
More heat crawls across my cheeks. This is shame, and I have to stand up for myself. “He’s not a kid. He’s a man who is older than you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, but you can’t ask people to treat you with respect if you won’t respect them at any age. Do you see?”
“I don’t know his name.”
“Declan,” I tell her. “Do you want coffee?”
“I’d love some. We came as soon as we could get a ride.”
I fix her a cup of black coffee. No sugar, no cream. “I’m surprised they let a cab driver drop you off. The security here is tight.”
“Declan Crossbow sent a car for me.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I woke up, and there was a woman at my door asking if I wanted to see you. Nathalie was over last night, so we both came.”
“Long brown hair in a ponytail, wears boots? Thick accent?” I describe Slada.
“Yeah. She’s pretty hot.” Chi-chi blushes. “Anywayzzzz, was it him who punched you? And please don’t tell me you fell.”
“It was a detective at the police station.”
“That motherfucker should get fired. Maybe Dad knows him and can help. What’s his name?”
“It was a woman.”
Chi-chi rolls her shoulders. “Bring it, bitch.”
I smile. “Thank you, baby girl, but it’s being handled.” Oh my God, I sound like some underground capo. What’s a female for capo? Capola? Capolita?
“Is your boyfriend handling it?” Chi-chi asks.
I nod.My boyfriend.I must look like a tomato by now because I feel the need for a fan to blow in my face and cool me off. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”
“Which that?” Chi-chi sips the coffee.
She knows which, but wants me to say it. “The kissing.”
“Why not? Dad kisses Ashley all the time.”
“Right.”
Chi-chi twirls the coffee cup. “Sorry. I should be more mindful.”
“It’s fine. I know they’re kissing, and I don’t care. Good riddance. Please eat something if you’re hungry.”
Chi-chi shakes her head. “Coffee is fine.” She looks up from the cup. She has my dad’s warm brown eyes. “Mom, what’s going on with you?”
“Many things, apparently. But I promise everything is going to be okay.” The lies we tell our children. I have no idea what to do with my life now. None whatsoever. I’m existing one day at a time.
