“Now get your little butt going,” she insists in a pleasantly annoying voice, trying to get her way. “And wear the blue dress I bought you that you look so adorable in. You better not be late, Eva Anne!”
With that, my mother hangs up.
“Goodbye to you too, Mother,” I snap into the already dead receiver.
As I set my phone down, I proceed to take long sips of wine and contemplate not even going at all. I laugh at the horror of putting my mother through anything like that and know if I want to live to see another day, the better option is to just go.
Cynthia Monroe is as punctual as punctual could get. Growing up, my childhood home was immaculate. If you even sat at a chair in our front sitting room to put your shoes on, my mother would know the chair had been sat in and heaven forbid, maybe even moved.
Little annoyances like this are easy to laugh at now, which my brother and I do on a regular basis. Although living in that world day in and day out and having to be unnaturally perfect all the time was terrifying. I often wonder how my father puts up with it, but then I smile knowingly. One word: Scotch. Lots and lots of scotch.
I begin walking to my bedroom and dread every step I take, knowing it’s leading me to a night I’d rather fast forward through. Right now all I want to do is slip into my frumpy comfy pj’s and flop my butt on my couch. A fire in my fireplace, a big glass of wine, the cool fall breeze from an open window, and a chick flick marathon sounds more appealing than the night awaiting me at my parents’ house.
Flicking on the light in my room, I start rummaging through my closet. I debate briefly doing what my mother requested and wear the blue dress. Though, always the rebel when it comes to her, I settle for a little black number that turns heads. It’s fun and flirty. The glass of wine and call from my mother has obviously left me feeling feisty. Maybe letting her think there is something between me and Trevor could be fun.
Even though I don’t like Trevor, I do enjoy the idea of making him drool all night. Plus, if I have to deal with my mother in her current state, I need to have a little fun. Not wearing what my mother so strictly tried to enforce will also give her the hint to stop trying to control my life. Not that I’ve had much luck in that department; my mother hasn’t stopped trying in twenty-seven years. She probably won’t stop anytime soon, if ever.
Throwing on my dress, I grab some red heels to give the outfit a little extra kick. What the hell. What’s the point in life if you aren’t having fun, right? My mother hates these heels. She insists they make me look like I’m asking for it. Totally a plus. One thing my twenty-seven years have taught me is to go big or go home, especially when it comes to annoying my mother. And tonight, between her and Trevor Roberts, this outfit is guaranteed to give me the upper hand.
Pulling my hair back in a ponytail, I start to freshen up my makeup and take a moment to savor my last few sips of wine.
Walking back to my kitchen, thoughts of a certain tall, dark, handsome southern gentleman consume me. I wonder what he would think of my tight black dress and “come fuck me” heels. Would it make him act a little less gentleman like? Maybe he’d have the guts to pull another stunt like he did last night in the bar.
“Get over it, Ev. You’re never going to see the guy again!” I laugh at myself.
The brief fantasy makes me smile, though. Even though I don’t need a distraction right now, I can’t deny the fact that I’d love a chance to be near him again.
I shake my head and tell myself to focus. Stick to my plan. Tempting distractions are not part of the plan.
Setting my glass down on the kitchen counter, I grab my keys, purse, and coat and start to make my way towards the door. Glancing back at the clock, I see I have exactly forty minutes to speed like mad towards my childhood home. Better not be late. I smile to myself as I lock my front door and head towards my car, knowing my mother can’t handle my tardiness, the dress, and the shoes all in one night.
Chapter Six
Eva
My parents live in a town called Auburn, forty minutes south of Nevada City. Auburn and Nevada City are very similar to one another; both have a small old-fashioned Main Street, surrounded by rolling hills and houses. Although Auburn definitely comes with more amenities. Most of the drive to and from takes place along a two-lane highway through tall trees and endless countryside. Once I arrive in Auburn, a short drive through some of the old Main Street and up a few more rolling hills brings me to the home I grew up in.
My parents live in a suburban community called Ridge Crest. Huge houses sit side by side, perched up on hilltops, looking down on the people and cars passing through. Beautiful gardens and winding driveways bring you to the most breathtaking custom-made homes you’ve ever seen. Each home is charmingly perfect in its own way and makes a statement of money, power, and prestige.
As I turn into my parents’ driveway, I start to feel smaller and more insignificant the further I drive up it. Glancing at the clock, I see it is 5:08.
“Damn it,” I curse under my breath. “I’m late.”
The house looms over me as I pull up to the front porch. It’s almost as if it is watching and judging my every move. Standing on the massive front porch, judging me right along with the house, is my mother with a glass of wine in her hand. She harshly glares at me as I pull to a stop.
My mother doesn’t waste time, and is already descending the steps to meet me as I climb out of my car. I take a deep breath, readying myself for a battle that’s obviously been brewing long before I even pulled up the driveway. Although I love my mother, I don’t feel like having it out with her tonight.
“What are you wearing?” my mother demands. She reaches out and grabs a hold of my dress as I walk past, almost as if touching it will make her realize that I obviously didn’t follow her strict instructions.
“Oh my God!” She gasps. “Those shoes. Eva!” she shouts as I walk up to the front door.
“I brought you more wine, Mother,” I respond, waving the bottle in the air. I continue walking, attempting to ignore the lecture that I know will pursue me if I dare pay her any attention. A smile spreads across my face as I quickly walk up each step. I know my mother is irate, but there is nothing she can do about my choices, either.
“We always have enough wine, Eva,” my mother snaps. “Is that why you’re late? Did you take time for an unnecessary stop? Seriously, Eva Anne, you can be so inconsiderate!”
Ignoring the harassing comment, I push open the front door and am immediately greeted by wagging tails and slobbery kisses. A black Pit Bull-Lab mix and Golden Retriever run towards me. The pair is very oddly matched but very much a part of the family. I bend down and give each dog loving hugs and kisses. Reaching into my purse, I pull out treats I always keep on hand when I know I am coming to my parents. The dogs accept the treats enthusiastically and run off.
Frank Sinatra’s “Luck be a Lady” fills the background on the whole house speakers. It smells of Thanksgiving dinner and expensive scented candles. My dad comes out of the family room situated straight off the foyer. Scotch in hand, he grins from ear to ear.
