Aila looks up when I come in.I can tell she’s unimpressed by my behavior from the way she’s flaking croissant pastry between her fingers.Frowning at the bottle I have lightly clenched between my fingers, she nibbles a piece of bread and drinks her coffee with polite sips.
“Your daddy have a drinking problem?”Lifting the bottle, I salute her with it before taking another swig.
I might know fuck-all about medical terminology, but I understand human nature.Not because I have empathy but because it makes me a more efficient hunter.
Chewing and swallowing grapes one at a time, she thinks about how to answer.
“My parents were teens when they conceived me, and yes, alcohol was involved.”Finally, she makes eye contact with me.“I don’t practice double standards, Theron, so it would be crass of me to work at bars and then despise people for drinking.Maybe it is rude of me to say this, but I think you should take better care of yourself.”
Damn.Low blood sugar must be serious.Okay, no more jokes or excuses regarding that.The happiness has gone out of Aila’s eyes.
Draining the bottle, I put it down on the table with a deliberate thump.“There.Beer for breakfast is done.It will never happen again.Happy?”
Wrong move.Snatching the bottle, Aila sniffs the neck.Her face pulls into a grimace as she pretends to retch, quickly putting the bottle back down on the table.“What the hell is that stuff?”
“Bikers’ brew.”I’m not worried about Aila’s criticism of the Riders’ fluids because she’s never going to want to drink it.“Special ingredients.”
“Ergh.”Shaking her head, Aila begins to see the funny side of what she just did.“Let me guess at what the ingredients are: old socks, jockstrap, and armpit?”
“Funny girl, but you’ll have to ask Luna.She brews it.Tell me more about your family.”
Shrugging, Aila goes back to pinching off pieces of pastry and nibbling on them.
“Please don’t share this with any of the locals, Theron.My mother likes to sustain a certain amount of mystique about herself.”
Interrupting, I give my own spin on things.“Amelia seemed fairly open about your circumstances at the bar last night, telling everyone how y’all were down on your luck and living that gypsy lifestyle.”
Aila grits her teeth.“Fine, if that’s how she wants to play this.My parents conceived me while they were still in high school.My mom left school to have me.I guess we lived the first couple of years with my grandparents, but they were religious and Mom wanted to spread her wings.So she started boyfriend hopping.”
Raising an eyebrow, I wait for Aila to explain.She gets up to pour herself a glass of orange juice before continuing.
“Boyfriend hopping is easy when someone looks like my mom.Her modus operandi was simple: Go to an upscale wine bar.You know the ones I’m talking about?Wealthy clientele, black credit cards, luxury brand designer gear.”
I nod.I have a passing knowledge about such establishments without having set foot in one.
“Sometimes she would take a girlfriend with her so she could look vibrant and friendly.Other times, Mom would sit alone nursing a cocktail with a sorrowful, brooding expression.Different attitudes attracted different types of men.She learned quickly.”
“What did she learn?”
“If she looked friendly, men who wanted girlfriends would approach her.Alone and enigmatic, men wanting a one-night stand would offer to buy her a drink.”
Smart lady.“So she picked the ones who wanted girlfriends?”
Aila makes eye contact with me.“Not always.”
How is this beautiful woman ensnaring me with her forthright narrative?I am transfixed by what she is telling me.If a ray of light were to slant across the room right now, it would catch me unawares once again.
ChapterSeven
Aila
I’m tired of all the pretense and denial.I can’t keep up with my mother’s spin doctoring anymore.We’re here for the summer, so I might as well set the record straight with this man.
“There are ways to turn a one-night stand into a relationship if you know how to go about doing it.My mother always had an angle.She gave her cell phone number to just about anyone who asked for it.Dude wants a one-night stand with her?Phone number—with the promise of sex being a possibility in the future.Another dude wants to treat her to a steak dinner?Phone number—with the promise of a second date if he really spoils her.”
“What was her point?”Theron looks interested and intrigued.Like a student attending a lecture by a professor they idolize.I’m surprised he isn’t taking notes.
“The law of averages.One of those dozens of men will fall in love with her enough to offer us a home.”
