Terri Austin - Diners, Dives & Dead Ends

She threw back her head. “Nothing is a big deal to you. Drop of out of college, waste your life in this dump, bring that boy with the big holes in his ears to your cousin’s wedding, never caring about how mortified your father and I would be. You still haven’t apologized to Tatum Hopkins. She was distraught. But no, nothing’s ever a big deal for Rosalyn.”

For years I’d been trying desperately to keep the peace with my mother for Jacks’ sake. I wanted to see Scotty, and I didn’t want to put Jacks in the middle of it, so I sucked up whatever my mother had dished out, telling myself that between the two of us, I was the bigger, better person. But today, I’d had enough. Jacks was going to have to make her own decisions, because I had made mine.

“Sorry I’m such an embarrassment. But I am a responsible adult, Mom. I pay my own way because you cut me off five years ago. I was barely nineteen and you threw me out like a sack of trash.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“What would you call it? All I wanted to do was go to a different college. Why was that such a terrible thing?”

“You’ve never appreciated anything we did for you. We spent a fortune on that school, but of course, that wasn’t good enough.” She stood a little straighter. “And now you’re paying us back. That’s what all this ‘acting out’ is about, isn’t it? Punishing your father and me?”

“You got me. It’s all about you.” I put my hands on my hips. “You may not like what I do or who my friends are. But that is just too damn bad. If I want to dry hump Dane Harker in the middle of the Apple Tree Boulevard, that’s none of your business.” I had lifted the lid off the pot of my boiling emotions and now they were bubbling over.

“Guess what? I don’t care that you don’t approve of me. And I could care even less about your snotty tight-assed friends. My life is just that. Mine. I’ve made it on my own, no thanks to you. And I will not have you waltz into my place of employment again with your little tirades and lectures, treating me like I am a child. Is that clear?”

She stared at me through slitted eyes. “Crystal.” She flung open the door and walked out of the office, her head held high.

“And by the way,” I called after her, “air quotes are pretentious.”

I sagged against the desk and gulped down the stale air. I felt a little dizzy and relieved and sick to my stomach all at the same time.

I didn’t know what the fallout would be, but it wouldn’t be good. Jacks might have to sneak around to see me. As far as my dad went, he just tried to keep my mom happy. It still stung that I didn’t have her love and support, but it was time I got over it.

I walked back into the dining area. Ma looked concerned. Jorge looked curious. And Roxy looked at me with mixture of both.

“Your mom was really pissed,” Roxy said.

“Yeah,” said Jorge, wiping his hands on his apron. “She almost knocked me down as she left. Like she didn’t even see me.”

“Are you okay, toots?” asked Ma.

“I am,” I said, nodding. “I just got some things off my chest.”

“Do you need anything?” Jorge asked.

I smiled and shook my head.

“Okay, I’m going to help Ray with the kitchen, then.” He turned and left.

“Start talking,” Roxy said. “I want to know every detail.”

Just then my phone vibrated. It was Sheila Graystone, so I answered.

“Rose! Some guy just towed my effing car.”

“Why did someone tow your car?”

“They said they were repossessing it. They repossessed my effing car. How the eff am I supposed to get home?”

“Um, do you want me to give you a ride?”

“Yes, I’m at the mall in front of Jamba Juice.” She hung up.

I turned to Ma. “Sheila needs a ride. You mind if I go right now?” I hated to skip out on work, but I didn’t want to leave Sheila stranded.

Ma patted my head. “Rose, honey, you go do what you need to do.”

I drove to the mall, snagged a parking place near Macy’s, and found Sheila in the food court sitting at a table between Jamba Juice and Panda Express.

“Sorry, Rose, but I didn’t know who else to call. I was too embarrassed to call my friends, and Pack isn’t answering his cell.”

I didn’t know if I should be flattered or insulted. “No problem. What happened?”

We walked toward the main entrance. “First I tried to buy some sheets,” she said, her arms flapping in the air, “sheets. But two of my cards were declined. In fact, they cut them up.” Her voice got higher with every word. “I thought it must be a mistake. But then I go out to the parking lot and find this fat man with tattoos hooking my car to a tow truck. He had paperwork and everything. Said we were four months late with the payments. Four months!”

I guided her to my car and opened the passenger door for her before sliding into my seat and starting the engine. The temperature had been dropping all day and the sky was overcast. I flipped the heater on and hoped it worked.

“Why don’t you have a window?”

“Long story. Does Packard handle all the money?”

She looked at me with her mouth open. “Of course.”

“Sheila, I told you, Packard has a gambling addiction. The night we followed him, he was losing. Big time. When he asked for more credit, he was thrown out.”

I glanced over at her. Her skin was ghostly white. She held a shaking hand to her mouth. “Oh my gosh. What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

She was quiet as I pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward her house. Then she suddenly sat up straighter than my mother in the Episcopalian church on Easter morning. “No, not home. Take me to his office. That son-of-a-bee has some explaining to do.”

“I don’t think that is such a good idea right now. Maybe you need to wait until you’ve calmed down a little.”

Her light brown eyes sparkled with anger. “Take me to his office. Now.”

I didn’t argue any further but drove to a tall office building next to the highway. The mirrored windows reflected the stormy gray clouds overhead. If Sheila was going to confront Packard, now might be a good time for me to do the same.

I had barely pulled into a parking spot before Sheila leaped out of the car. I quickly shut off the ignition and ran to catch up to her.

Marching into the office building, she made her way to the elevator and punched the button. Tension and anger made her petite frame stiff, and as we stepped into the elevator and waited for it to slowly climb to the fifth floor, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Phil Collins sang a tune as we made our journey upward.

As soon as the doors slid open, she stalked toward the glass office door that bore Packard’s name and threw it open. The receptionist looked up, startled. “Mrs. Graystone?”

The waiting room was full. Two teenagers with bad skin, their mothers, an elderly man, and a woman in a business suit. All eyes were riveted on Sheila.

“Where is he?” she asked the receptionist.

“He’s…he’s with a patient.”

Sheila stormed through the waiting room door that led to the back.

“Packard,” Sheila called out. She began opening doors, one after the other. I heard the startled voices. I followed along and kept quiet. “Where are you, Packard?” She was definitely using her outside voice.

The door to the fourth room on the right opened and Packard stepped out, holding one of those long Q-tips in his hand. “Sheila? What are you doing here?”

“I want some answers,” she said.

Packard glanced at me, before looking around. All of the patients had come out of their rooms and stared at us.