It won’t fix the HVAC disaster at Olympus. It won’t make Aleksei vanish in a puff of smoke. It won’t make the peachy taste ofEliana’s mouth any less vivid in my memory. And it sure as hell won’t make me feel less like I’m drowning.
I scrawl a quick note for Sage.
Heading out for a while. Don’t wait up.
—B
Then I grab my keys and run out the door.
29
ELIANA
spoiled: /spoild/: adjective
1: food that has gone bad and is no longer safe to consume.
2: one sniff is all it takes to know this is not fit for human consumption.
There’s a stranger in my mom’s apartment.
He’s sprawled on the couch, beer in one hand, remote in the other. Mid-forties, maybe. Thinning hair slicked back with too much gel. Gold chain visible through his unbuttoned collar. He looks like the sort of dude who calls women “sweetheart” and thinks it’s charming.
“Oh!” Mom appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She’s wearing lipstick. Honest-to-goodnesslipstick. When’s the last time I saw her in makeup? “Eliana, honey, I didn’t know you were coming by!”
“Well, here I am.” I eye the stranger warily. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
“This is Rick,” she gushes, giddy as a schoolgirl. “Rick, this is my daughter I was telling you about, Eliana.”
Rick stands and extends a hand. His palm is clammy when I shake it. “Pleasure to meet you, Eliana. Your mom’s told me so much about you.”
“Has she?” I look at Mom. “I thought you and Derek just broke up.”
Rick’s brow furrows. “Who’s Derek?”
“The last guy,” I clarify.
Mom waves her hand. “That was weeks ago, honey. Ancient history.”
Actually, that was three days ago,I want to correct.Meaning that, three days ago, you were so upset that you got too drunk to stand and I had to do a three-legged race with you to get you into your bed.
But what would be the point? She won’t listen.
“Rick and I met at the grocery store,” Mom continues. She beams at him. “He helped me reach something on the top shelf and we just got to talking, and—well, one thing led to another.”
“One thing led to another,” I repeat flatly. “That was fast.”
“When you know, you know,” Rick says with a wink that makes my skin crawl. He settles back onto the couch and pats the cushion beside him. “Come on, G, the game’s about to start.”
Mom giggles—fuckinggiggles—and sits beside him. He drapes an arm around her shoulders.
I’m still standing one step inside the doorway, watching my mother cuddle up to a man whose name she probably didn’t know forty-eight hours ago. I feel so goddamn tired.
“I brought you some money,” I say. “For the rent.”
Mom’s face brightens. “Oh, honey, that’s so sweet of you. Rick, isn’t she sweet?”
“Sweet as pie,” Rick agrees without looking away from the TV.
