Hot Ticket
Page 39
Chapter 17
Aggie tossed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her mother, who was sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. “So when are you leaving?”
“When it’s safe,” Mom said, sprinkling Tabasco sauce on her eggs and then digging in.
Standing, as it would take actual effort to climb onto a stool, Aggie yawned and picked at her own eggs. She’d had a rough night at the club. Some drunk dickhead had climbed on her stage and gotten fresh. Well, fresh was putting it lightly. The bouncers had to mace him to get him off her. She hated men. Well, most of them. At the moment, Jace was the only exception, and as he was touring the Northeast, she hadn’t seen him for several weeks. He was always gone. They kept in contact via text message. He didn’t like to talk on the phone. She missed him and worked hard not to feel bitter about his touring. Or that he was never out of her thoughts for a moment, while he was undoubtedly having the time of his life. Sinners were on their way home to LA today. Maybe she could see Jace sometime this week. She didn’t handle these long stretches away from him well. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
“Most people sleep at night, you know.” Mom waved a hand at the early morning sunshine streaming through the kitchen window.
“Most mothers don’t visit their daughters for three f**kin’ months, you know.”
Mom pointed at her with her fork. “Watch your mouth, Agatha Christine. I’m leaving soon.”
“You’ve been saying that every day since you moved in. The least you could do is admit that you’re here to stay.”
Mom shook her head. “I’m waiting for the all clear.” She reached into the neckline of her baggy sweatshirt and pulled a necklace free. “Here, I want you to have this.” She lifted the long chain over her head and handed a hideous, heart-shaped locket to Aggie. It attempted to be gold, but the paint was flaking off to reveal the white plastic beneath. Aggie had never seen it before.
“Gee thanks, Mom. Did you pick this up from Goodwill or the dumpster behind Dollar General?”
“I found it in an old shoe box the other day. Your father gave that to me.”
Aggie rolled her eyes. “The deadbeat Elvis impersonator?”
“Don’t disrespect your father.”
“I don’t think I can call a man I never met my father. He doesn’t know I exist.”
“Oh, he knows. I told him I was pregnant. That’s why he split.” Mom smiled nostalgically. “He was really handsome, doll. You look a lot like him.”
“Yes, my legacy is to be the greatest female Elvis impersonator to ever live. Too bad I sound like a strangled ostrich when I sing.” Aggie slipped the locket’s chain over her head. It wasn’t like her mother gave her things of importance on a regular basis. She did appreciate the gesture. She was just… tired. And really wanted her life back. And to be able to make love to Jace on the kitchen floor whenever the urge struck her. Not that he was around enough to appease those urges, but if he had been.
“Be proud of who you are, Agatha.”
Aggie nodded and squeezed the gaudy locket in her hand. “Thanks for the necklace, Mom. It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, but I’ll treasure it.”
Mom smiled one of those rare smiles that touched her tired eyes. She’d had a hard life. It showed in every line of her face. Hard to believe the woman was only forty-seven.
Mom grabbed Aggie around the waist and pulled her next to her side. “Are you happy, baby?”
For some reason, her mother’s question made an image of Jace dominate her thoughts, like it did every twenty seconds or so. Aggie smiled, examining the locket more closely. “I’m working on it. Is there a picture inside?”
“It doesn’t open. Never did. It’s not really a locket.” Mom elbowed Aggie in the ribs affectionately. “We’re okay, right?”
Aggie nodded. “We’re okay.”
Mom kissed Aggie’s arm and patted her butt. “Go on to bed.”
“I have someone coming to pick up a corset this evening,” Aggie said. “I have to get it done before I even think about sleeping.”
“No, you don’t,” Mom said with an ear to ear grin. “I finished it for you.”
Aggie felt the blood drain from her face. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
“I did a bang-up job.”
Aggie dashed into her dining room and stopped dead in her tracks. Spread across the surface of the dining room table beside her sewing machine was the corset she’d been working on before she’d headed to the club the night before. Her mother had done a bang-up job all right. If bang-up was a synonym for f**ked-up. The stitching was uneven. One cup of the garment was the premeasured D, the other a lopsided A. The Forget-Me-Not embroidery pattern didn’t match because Aggie’s practiced stitches decorated one side, and her mother’s kindergarten project disgraced the other. It wasn’t like Aggie could remove the misplaced stitches and fix it. Unlike cloth, if you poked a hole in leather, it stayed there. She’d have to completely start over.
“Mother!”
“Not bad for my first try. Maybe we could go into business together.”
Aggie picked up the corset and tugged at it to see if by some miracle it would straighten itself out. The ribbing was sewn in so that any woman unlucky enough to put it on would have her rib cage punctured and suffer a collapsed lung. “It’s ruined.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen, Aggie. It’s fine.”
She couldn’t make out her mother’s expression through her tears of frustration. “It isn’t fine. Nothing you touch is fine.”
Her mother took a deep, shuddering breath. “You’re right. I’m the biggest f**kup on the planet.” And now she was crying. Great, just f**king great. She destroyed Aggie’s work and then somehow managed to make her feel guilty about it.
“You need to not be near me right now, Mom,” Aggie said. “I have a lot of work to do.” She grabbed a seam ripper and tore the garment into sections, praying that she might be able to salvage some of the panels—especially the one she’d embroidered—and just replace those her mother had messed up.
“I’m sorry,” Mom said in a shaky voice. “I thought I could help. I know how hard you’re always working, and I’m a huge burden on you. I make up stories about the Mafia so you’ll take me in, and I eat your food and borrow money out of your purse to buy cigarettes. I know I deserve to be kicked out, but I don’t have an-anywhere else to gooooo.” She was wailing now.
Aggie tossed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her mother, who was sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. “So when are you leaving?”
“When it’s safe,” Mom said, sprinkling Tabasco sauce on her eggs and then digging in.
Standing, as it would take actual effort to climb onto a stool, Aggie yawned and picked at her own eggs. She’d had a rough night at the club. Some drunk dickhead had climbed on her stage and gotten fresh. Well, fresh was putting it lightly. The bouncers had to mace him to get him off her. She hated men. Well, most of them. At the moment, Jace was the only exception, and as he was touring the Northeast, she hadn’t seen him for several weeks. He was always gone. They kept in contact via text message. He didn’t like to talk on the phone. She missed him and worked hard not to feel bitter about his touring. Or that he was never out of her thoughts for a moment, while he was undoubtedly having the time of his life. Sinners were on their way home to LA today. Maybe she could see Jace sometime this week. She didn’t handle these long stretches away from him well. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
“Most people sleep at night, you know.” Mom waved a hand at the early morning sunshine streaming through the kitchen window.
“Most mothers don’t visit their daughters for three f**kin’ months, you know.”
Mom pointed at her with her fork. “Watch your mouth, Agatha Christine. I’m leaving soon.”
“You’ve been saying that every day since you moved in. The least you could do is admit that you’re here to stay.”
Mom shook her head. “I’m waiting for the all clear.” She reached into the neckline of her baggy sweatshirt and pulled a necklace free. “Here, I want you to have this.” She lifted the long chain over her head and handed a hideous, heart-shaped locket to Aggie. It attempted to be gold, but the paint was flaking off to reveal the white plastic beneath. Aggie had never seen it before.
“Gee thanks, Mom. Did you pick this up from Goodwill or the dumpster behind Dollar General?”
“I found it in an old shoe box the other day. Your father gave that to me.”
Aggie rolled her eyes. “The deadbeat Elvis impersonator?”
“Don’t disrespect your father.”
“I don’t think I can call a man I never met my father. He doesn’t know I exist.”
“Oh, he knows. I told him I was pregnant. That’s why he split.” Mom smiled nostalgically. “He was really handsome, doll. You look a lot like him.”
“Yes, my legacy is to be the greatest female Elvis impersonator to ever live. Too bad I sound like a strangled ostrich when I sing.” Aggie slipped the locket’s chain over her head. It wasn’t like her mother gave her things of importance on a regular basis. She did appreciate the gesture. She was just… tired. And really wanted her life back. And to be able to make love to Jace on the kitchen floor whenever the urge struck her. Not that he was around enough to appease those urges, but if he had been.
“Be proud of who you are, Agatha.”
Aggie nodded and squeezed the gaudy locket in her hand. “Thanks for the necklace, Mom. It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, but I’ll treasure it.”
Mom smiled one of those rare smiles that touched her tired eyes. She’d had a hard life. It showed in every line of her face. Hard to believe the woman was only forty-seven.
Mom grabbed Aggie around the waist and pulled her next to her side. “Are you happy, baby?”
For some reason, her mother’s question made an image of Jace dominate her thoughts, like it did every twenty seconds or so. Aggie smiled, examining the locket more closely. “I’m working on it. Is there a picture inside?”
“It doesn’t open. Never did. It’s not really a locket.” Mom elbowed Aggie in the ribs affectionately. “We’re okay, right?”
Aggie nodded. “We’re okay.”
Mom kissed Aggie’s arm and patted her butt. “Go on to bed.”
“I have someone coming to pick up a corset this evening,” Aggie said. “I have to get it done before I even think about sleeping.”
“No, you don’t,” Mom said with an ear to ear grin. “I finished it for you.”
Aggie felt the blood drain from her face. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
“I did a bang-up job.”
Aggie dashed into her dining room and stopped dead in her tracks. Spread across the surface of the dining room table beside her sewing machine was the corset she’d been working on before she’d headed to the club the night before. Her mother had done a bang-up job all right. If bang-up was a synonym for f**ked-up. The stitching was uneven. One cup of the garment was the premeasured D, the other a lopsided A. The Forget-Me-Not embroidery pattern didn’t match because Aggie’s practiced stitches decorated one side, and her mother’s kindergarten project disgraced the other. It wasn’t like Aggie could remove the misplaced stitches and fix it. Unlike cloth, if you poked a hole in leather, it stayed there. She’d have to completely start over.
“Mother!”
“Not bad for my first try. Maybe we could go into business together.”
Aggie picked up the corset and tugged at it to see if by some miracle it would straighten itself out. The ribbing was sewn in so that any woman unlucky enough to put it on would have her rib cage punctured and suffer a collapsed lung. “It’s ruined.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen, Aggie. It’s fine.”
She couldn’t make out her mother’s expression through her tears of frustration. “It isn’t fine. Nothing you touch is fine.”
Her mother took a deep, shuddering breath. “You’re right. I’m the biggest f**kup on the planet.” And now she was crying. Great, just f**king great. She destroyed Aggie’s work and then somehow managed to make her feel guilty about it.
“You need to not be near me right now, Mom,” Aggie said. “I have a lot of work to do.” She grabbed a seam ripper and tore the garment into sections, praying that she might be able to salvage some of the panels—especially the one she’d embroidered—and just replace those her mother had messed up.
“I’m sorry,” Mom said in a shaky voice. “I thought I could help. I know how hard you’re always working, and I’m a huge burden on you. I make up stories about the Mafia so you’ll take me in, and I eat your food and borrow money out of your purse to buy cigarettes. I know I deserve to be kicked out, but I don’t have an-anywhere else to gooooo.” She was wailing now.
