Page 28 of Until August

“I ordered vodka!” she shrieked, loudly enough to turn a few heads. Her hand swept across the bar, knocking over a glass of what I suspected was water. It was going to be one of those nights.

I apologized to Rob while he mopped the spill with a bar towel. Meanwhile, Courtney was waiting for a drink order, her tray balanced on the side of the bar.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

Except that it wasn’t.

“I’ve got this,” I told Ari, who was trying to usher Belinda out the door.

She released Belinda’s arm and took a step back. “Sorry, Nic.”

It wasn’t her fault, but I didn’t get to tell her that because I had to deal with Cruz’s mom. She smacked my hand away and spun out of my hold when I tried to grab her arm.

I moved in closer and lowered my voice, conscious of the attention we’d drawn. “If you don’t calm down and stop making a scene, I’ll call the cops.”

“Of course you would, you dirty little whore,” she spat.

God, this woman. How she’d ever given birth to a good man like Cruz was one of life’s many mysteries.

I escorted her outside with my hand gripping her elbow, half dragging her out the door. I didn’t release her until we were on the sidewalk and not blocking the entrance.

She shrugged off my hold and cocked her hip, planting a hand on it. Her red lipstick bled into the smoker’s lines around her mouth, and her bleached blonde hair had a good three inches of black roots showing. “Well, well, if it’s not the little gold digger who married my son.”

I didn’t react. I’d heard it all before.

She was drunk. I could smell the alcohol on her breath from a few feet away. She lit a cigarette and sucked on it, then blew the smoke into my face.

“What’d he ever see in you? You had him wrapped around your little finger, didn’t you? He wanted nothing to do with me after he met you.” She took another drag of her cigarette and studied my face. “I bet you were filling his head with lies about me, weren’t you?”

I took a deep breath and tried to rein in my temper. It wasn’t true. I used to feel sorry for Belinda. It was Cruz’s decision to cut her out of his life. “Let me call you a Lyft.” I slid my phone out of my pocket and opened the app, trying to keep my hand from shaking as I entered the information.

“I don’t want a damn Lyft. I want my son.” Her face crumpled, and I thought she might cry. I felt a pang of guilt, and my heart hurt for her.

I went to hug her and try to comfort her, but she shoved me away and stumbled on her heels, losing her balance. My arm shot out, and I caught her by the arm before she hit the ground. Belinda was tiny, only five feet tall, but her heels gave a few extra inches.

“Get away from me,” she yelled, slapping my hand away as if I’d been mauling her instead of trying to help. I let out a weary sigh wishing she’d just be quiet and leave, but she kept talking. “You went and stole him from me, didn’t you? Is it any wonder Frankie hates you now.” She cackled, knowing that her words had hit their intended target.

Another crack in my heart.

When I lost Cruz, I also lost his younger sister, Frankie. It was my fault. I was to blame for what happened. And while I understood and took full responsibility, it didn’t make it any easier to accept.

I blinked back my tears and gritted my teeth, fighting to keep my voice steady. “A car will be here in a few minutes.” I slid my phone back into my pocket, focusing on the fairy lights twinkling from the potted cypresses flanking the front door. I took a few cleansing breaths and tried to shake off her words.

“You think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you? I should be able to drink all the top-shelf liquor I want in that place. I should be dining on surf and turf. My son’s the one who pays all the bills. But no, every time I show up, you kick me out. Not that it surprises me.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You got what you wanted from my son… all his money is yours now… so you don’t give a damn about me.”

As if I’d fallen in love with Cruz because of his money. Rich or poor, I would have loved him just the same. But, unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for her. She’d abandoned her kids, leaving Cruz to be more like a parent than a brother to his younger sister. “Maybe if you showed up sober and said something nice once in a while, I’d be more accommodating.”

She snorted. “Don’t hold your breath. I’ve got nothing nice to say to you.”

In all the years I’d known her, she’d rarely had a nice word to say to me. She treated me like I was the competition and refused to accept that I was the woman her son loved and would do anything to make him happy.

“I need some money. I wouldn’t have to keep begging and pleading if you weren't holding all the purse strings.”

There it was. She was here for money. Or should I say more money. I didn’t know why I kept helping her with her rent and bills when she treated me like this. But in my family, that’s what we did. We took care of our own. So, as much as I wanted to kick her out of my life, I couldn’t. She’d never been the best parent, but she was still Cruz’s mother. In my world, that meant something. “How much do you need?”

She sniffed. “I’m not even getting enough to live on. I’m barely scraping by. And I got bills to pay.”

Didn’t we all? “I’ll see what I can do. But I need you to do something for me. I need you to lay off the liquor and start attending the meetings again.”