Page 5 of Until Ace

“Listen up, Ace.” Beverly takes hold of my chin and turns my head her way. Ace? She rarely calls me by my name. Every time she does it, she means business. “I have a girl in there who does nothing but hang around old broads and play every game known to man. We love her. She’s sweet. But she needs more in her life. She’s too young to waste away, playing it safe.”

“How do you know she’s playing it safe? Maybe she just likes hanging with you,” I counter.

“Because all she does is go to work, go home, and then come here to spend time with us. She doesn’t have friends her age, and there’s been no mention of anyone special in her life.” Beverly takes a breath and gives me a look that tells me I need to brace myself. “And at every mention of family, she shuts down. It’s like someone strikes her. It’s unhealthy, and it’s sad. But most of all, it’s disturbing.” She shuffles closer and whispers, “It’s as if she was hurt by her family. I know she has one, but she avoids talking about them. And we both know why that could be.”

She’s right. We do. And that kind of thing not only hurts, but it burns in you. When the people who are supposed to protect you, love you unconditionally, and be role models turn their back on you, it haunts you for the rest of your life.

“I love having her around. I really do. But she needs someone to show her there’s more to life.” Beverly looks up at me with her big eyes, worry swimming in them. I recognize that worry. It’s the same I saw in them every time she looked at me while I was growing up.

Fuck.

“Darling,” I mutter, letting her know she hit her target.

“That’s not all, my boy.”

“What?”

“The last few times….” Beverly looks at her friends briefly, and after getting their encouraging nods, she continues, “We’re here, in my home, and her phone beeps. Mind you, we’re all excited, thinking it’s a man or someone special, hoping she’s going out and doing something fun in her life. But instead of her eyes lighting up and her body relaxing, her whole being tenses up and her hands start shaking. And after a few minutes, she gives us some bullshit about why she has to leave.” Beverly’s grip gets tighter and tighter as she speaks, and I’m not sure she’s aware of it. “Now, my boy, she’s in the kitchen. She got a text right before you got here. She said it’s from her mom, but I don’t know if I believe her. I pray to my soul she’s lying, because if she's not…? Just a text from her mother washes that girl in pain, sorrow, and fear. And that’s something—as we both know, my beautiful boy—that no one should ever feel when it comes to their mom.”

My boy. She’s always called me that, ever since the moment she took me in. And even though I’m far away from being a boy, the nickname always gives me a sense of calm. By pretty much not saying anything at all, Beverly manages to say everything. She’s letting me know I am and will always be hers—her son, in a sense—and that she’ll always be here for me, accept whatever I throw at her. But most of all, she loves me and stands by me, no matter what I do.

That means the world to me. By being who she is, Beverly managed to carve her name in my bones, the very essence of me.

She’s not the equivalent of a mother to me. She’s much more.

She’s my savior.

This is why I'll always do what she asks of me.

Even if it means being set up with someone. Someone who clearly has something going on. Something that’s not good and she needs help with.

“What do you want from me, darling?” I need clarification. Does she want me to step in and help someone, or does she just want me to go out on a date?

“I want you to meet Mandy. I want you to show her what a good man is.”

“So, basically, you’re pimping me out?” I deadpan. I can’t help but tease her, even if the situation is clearly serious.

“If I did, I would make some cake,” she quips. “In this scenario, all I get is the knowledge that two people I love are having at least a little bit of fun. And that Mandy is going to be safe while having it.”

“Ah, woman,” I groan.

It’s fun teasing her, and sure, I will do anything for her, but I don’t have it in me to take some woman out and pretend to have a good time. I’m tired, and all I want to do is go home and crawl into bed. And then, tomorrow, I’ll try to figure out who screwed up my case.

“I’m sure you won’t find it hard.” She waves a hand in front of my face like she finds me annoying.

“And why is that?”

“Quit stalling and get in there. You’ll see for yourself.” With that, she steps around me and gives me a not-so-subtle push.

The moment my foot crosses the threshold, the vibe changes. I can hear someone murmuring but can’t make out the words. Hearing her melodic voice, muted as it comes in waves toward me, makes me halt. Every cell in my body stops and comes to attention.

I can’t explain it, but I feel my heart start beating slower and harder at the same time. The hairs on my arms stand up, and the air feels sticky in my throat.

And that’s when I see her.

She’s standing in front of the sink, her head down, her brown hair tucked behind her ear. She has a slight frown on her face, but I can’t help but notice how her cute, small nose is slightly upturned.

I watch, fascinated, as her frown deepens a little.