It had been two hours, and I’d only seen male bikers come out. I yawned, jet lag starting to get the best of me, and was about to pull out to find a place to sleep for the night when a woman who fit her age walked out the bar. Or maybe she was older. A man was with her.
She stopped and turned to him, giving me the profile of her face.
Her hair was long and blonde, but it seemed bleached and dry. She was built, but her hands resembled claws, showing her true age. Her face had so many lines, I could see them from my car.
She leaned against the railing, smiling at him, using her hand in a flirtatious way to touch him, and he was leering at her.
She seemed desperate for him, like she would do anything to get him back to her shanty. Then, after a while, she would move on, desperate for someone else.
Without thought, I turned the car off and stepped out.
She hadn’t noticed me, but he had. His eyes widened and he moved to the side of her some. She turned then and narrowed her blue eyes at me. Her nose was freckled from the sun.
“Damn, girl.” The man whistled. “You come around here looking like Carrie Underwood with those legs, you might leave with a husband.”
I lifted my left hand. “Already have one of those.”
“Where’s your man then?”
“No place like this.”
Janis crossed her arms and was looking at herself through Nazzareno’s Aviator glasses. I’d taken them with me. Then she looked me up and down, her eyes stilling back on my face. I could have been wrong, but it seemed like she was trying to place me.
Ha.She didn’t even recognize her own daughter.
How sad was that?
Even sadder, a feeling in the pit of my stomach automatically knew it was her. I was looking at her through a small child’s eyes, but years into the future. It was so odd, I crossed my arms, hiding my shaking hands.
I forced one word out, “Janis.” As it did in New York when I would face all those mobsters, my voice didn’t waver, even if my entire body trembled.
Her eyes narrowed and she pulled her arms even tighter against herself.
The guy looked between us.
“You must be mistaken, Carrie Under. This is Nicole.”
“Oh,” I said, feigning surprise. “You’re going by your middle name now? I guess that’s convenient, especially when you ran from your husband and kids and didn’t want them to ever find you. Newsflash, though. No one ever came looking until recently.”
“You got a husband?” He stood taller, eyeing her. “Kids?”
“I don’t have a husband,” she snapped. “And my kids aren’t kids anymore.”
“I can understand that, Nic.” He looked between us again. “Ya’ll look a lot alike, except you’re a younger version, and you dress better, like you have money or something.” He nodded toward me. “You’re fucking classy, lady.”
I’d worn my usual black blazer with a white T-shirt underneath, blue jeans, and white sneakers, but the jewelry on my wrist was flashy, and so was my wedding band. And I’d never been called classy in New York—ever. My husband and his family had rubbed off on me.
“She is.” Janis stood taller. “That’s my daughter. Ava.”
“What a fuckin’ honor!” I slapped a hand to my heart, sarcasm oozing out of me as I did my best Marisa Tomei impression fromMy Cousin Vinny. “You remembered my name! It’s been, what? Oh, most of my life that you’ve been gone. And guess what? We were so much better off without you.”
She didn’t fucking deserve the truth, knowing how much we all had suffered because of the things she’d done, but that was going to be okay. We were moving forward, healing, and once I got back to New York, I was going to patch up my relationship with Sonny and we were going to be a happy family—for fucking once, despite what this bitch had done!
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t seem like you need money, so what do you need? A kidney or something? I bet it’s your sister who needs it. She was always the weak one. Sorry, kid, that organ is staying where it is. They say you can live with one, but it’ll be my luck, I’ll need the spare.”
Whatever came over me controlled my hand, because I slapped her across the face.
“Whoa,” the guy said. “That was fucking uncalled for. You okay, Nic?”
