Sherrilyn Kenyon: Invincible

Though at this rate, it seemed like she was looking for reasons to ground him.

Empty-nest syndrome. She was afraid of him leaving home, so she clung to him all the tighter. Okay, that’s probably not what it was called, but that’s what he was calling it.

Sighing, he stripped his clothes off and started the shower.

Of course, it took him longer than five minutes to finish and dress. And when he opened the door that led back to the bedroom, he found his mother on the bed, staring furiously at him.

“What? I hurried.”

“Sure you did.” She slid off the bed. “You didn’t even shave.”

“You told me to hurry, so I didn’t bother looking for a razor. Besides, I have only three hairs. Not like anyone can see them except you.” He kept hoping they’d grow longer and multiply, but so far …

They were just enough to be emasculating and aggravating. Something else for his mom to nag at him to do.

She made an annoyed sound that always reminded him of a tea kettle letting out steam. “C’mon. We have to catch a streetcar.”

“Where are we going?”

“You heard Mr. Hunter. We need to go to Sanctuary.”

“He said to call.”

She rolled her eyes—something that would also have got him grounded if he’d done it to her. “You don’t apply for a job that way, Nick.”

“But—”

“Go!”

He didn’t want to go across town for no reason. Why did he have to watch her apply for a job, anyway? He’d rather have his eyes gouged out than sit there bored and watching the fluorescent lights flicker. “Can’t I stay here?”

“No. We don’t take charity, and you know that. Mr. Hunter was nice enough to put us up for the night, but you should never overstay your welcome.”

“But—”

“Nick, do what I say.”

Grinding his teeth, he headed for the stairs. He might as well take the but out of his vocabulary, since all it seemed to do was act like a nuclear accelerant that caused her temper to explode.

No sooner had he reached the bottom than he smelled something delicious.… Something that smelled like real, juicy, delectable, make-your-mouth-water-and-arteries-harden bacon. Not those bacon bits packets his mom saved from condiment stands and added to his powdered eggs in the morning.

Yum!

Without conscious thought, he beelined for the kitchen.

His mother grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”

“Food. I’m following my nose.” And his rumbling stomach.

“No,” she whispered to him. “What part of ‘no charity’ have you missed?”

The part that said he couldn’t eat.

But he knew better than to argue, especially when she had that look on her face. “Fine.” He headed for the door.

Rosa came around the corner of the wall and frowned at them. “Nick? Mrs. Gautier? Do you not wish to eat before you leave?”

He looked at his mother, hoping she’d change her mind.

“Thank you, Rosa, but we have an appointment to keep.”

Rosa’s frown melted into a kind smile. The same height as his mother, she was a beautiful woman with black hair she kept in a bun and bright brown eyes. “Then let me get it for you to go.”

His mother released his arm. “No, thank you. We don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“Is no trouble,” Rosa assured her. “I made the food for you. I have already eaten, and Mr. Kyrian won’t be up until much later today. If you no eat, I just throw it away.”

Nick gave his mom his best begging stare and pouty lip. It was a look that had gotten him away with many things that didn’t have a moral dilemma attached to them.

He saw the reluctance in her eyes. She really, really didn’t like to take anything from anybody. People always expect something back when you do. Nothing in life is free, Nick. Don’t take and you won’t be beholding. He knew her litany well.

But he didn’t view this as the same thing.

“You always say we shouldn’t waste food, Ma.”

She took a deep breath before she relented. “All right. Thank you, Rosa.”

“My pleasure. You want me to—?”

“We’ll eat at the table. I don’t want to put you to any more work.”

Nick all but ran to the kitchen, where Rosa had two plates already made and sitting on the center island. The warm smell made his stomach cramp even more. “Oh, my God! We have pancakes and bacon!” It smelled so good, he was already salivating.

Rosa laughed at his eagerness. She had no idea how rare a meal like this was for him. “Don’t you want syrup?” she asked as he grabbed one of the pancakes and took a bite.

Nick swallowed the delicious-tasting food. “We have syrup, too?”

She pointed to the counter behind him, where a huge bottle of Log Cabin waited. Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. …

He grabbed it, popped the top, and proceeded to drown the plate.

His mom was much more sedate as she took her food. “Nick, don’t use so much syrup. You won’t be able to taste your food.”

That was the idea. “Ma, it’s real good syrup and it’s not watered down.” Something she did to make it last longer for them whenever they were lucky enough to get some.

Her face turned bright red.

Rosa patted her on her hand. “It’s okay, Mrs. Gautier. I understand what it’s like to have to struggle to feed my son. Miguel and I had many lean years before I come to work for Mr. Kyrian. You eat as much as you want. Mr. Kyrian’s policy is that no one goes hungry in his home.”

“Thank you.”

Rosa inclined her head, then moved a plate full of pancakes toward Nick. “But you go a little easy and leave some for your mother. Too many, and your stomach will hurt.”

“Yeah, but so worth the pain. These are delicious. Thank you so much for making them.”

She smiled as she handed him a napkin. “I’m glad you enjoy.”

“I more than enjoy. It’s like all the taste buds in my mouth are singing and dancing. I bet if you listen close, you can even hear them.”

And it got even better when she handed him a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Oh yeah, he was in heaven.

By the time his mom was finished eating, he’d plowed through most of the pancakes.

Shaking her head, his mom took him by his “uninjured” arm and pulled him away from his empty plate. “C’mon, boo. We need to get going.”

He licked the syrup off his fingers.

His mom screwed her face up in distaste. “Nick, you have a napkin. Please use it.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to waste it. It’s good.”

She let out a sigh of exasperation as she met Rosa’s gaze. “I swear, Rosa, I have taught him better. It just hasn’t taken yet. Not from lack of effort on my part.”

She laughed. “I know. Believe me, my Miguel is the same way.”

Ignoring them, Nick took one last bite before he followed his mom out of the house and down the street to the station. They didn’t speak much as they made their way from the fancy, high-end Garden District, where Kyrian lived, to the other side of the French Quarter, where the bar and restaurant called Sanctuary stood at 688 Ursuline. Something that involved their getting off the streetcar at Jackson Brewery and hoofing it a few blocks over toward the Ursuline’s convent that had given the street its name. Sanctuary was only one block up the street from it and not that far away from his high school.

He’d been by the place more times than he could count. His mother said the crowd in there could be rough and she didn’t want him getting hurt, so he was technically banned from it. And that statement always made him wonder how his mom knew what the crowd was like, since she’d never been inside it either to his knowledge. However, he’d never asked her.