Billy Jeffers: Rockers of Steel (25 page)

“Why?” I ask suspiciously, wondering what would keep her there, away from us.

“I’m enjoying myself?”

“Are you asking me if you’re enjoying yourself?”

“No, I’m telling you I am, but if you are miserable and need me, I’ll come home,” she promises, giving me the sweet mom face.

I lean forward toward the screen so I can get a better look at her. She leans forward, too.

“How much are you enjoying yourself?”

Her cheeks instantly turn red, and I cover my mouth.

“Are you turning into a Euro-whore?”

“Madison Black!” she yells. “Your mouth.”

“Hey, you left me here under Memphis’s supervision; what did you expect?”

She shakes her head and covers her face.

“Mom!”

She peeks out from above her hands.

“Spill it.”

“What would make one a,” she leans in and whispers, “Euro-whore?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t know.”

“I need some advice,” she whispers. “And I need you to swear to never speak a word of this to your brother.”

“You have my word,” I tell her. “Now, spill it.”

“I met Pierre in Paris.”

“Please tell me you are not married,” I say, trying to sound angry.

“Of course—”

“Because I swear to God, I will ground you until you are sixty.” I give her the mom look she used to give me.

“Madison, please—”

“Are you pregnant?” I fake gasp.

“What! No! Of course not!” she yells.

“Are you using protection? Because I don’t think I could handle another sibling. Memphis is plenty.”

“Of course I’m using protection,” she says, and even though I brought up the conversation, it kind of makes me sick to my stomach.

“Good, then my work here is done. I grant you permission to go play in the peonies with Pierre in Paris for another month. Then we will revisit.”

She looks down.

“Mom?”

“Well, I’m not in Paris anymore.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m in Greece,” she says. “And it is beautiful here.”

I shake my head and palm my forehead. “Mamma Mia.”

“Yes,” she says with a huge smile. “It’s just like the movie.”

“What’s just like the movie? Wait … Is Dad really my dad?”

She rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Okay, so you and Pierre are in Greece?”

“Not exactly,” she says in a shifty manner.

Oh man…. A man. “Mom …?”

“I met a beautiful man named Grigora. He asked me to come—”

“Wait, you left Paris and poor Pierre and didn’t tell us you were going to a different country?”

“It was like … I don’t know … something I have never felt before. He asked me to come with him, and I said yes. I wasn’t even thinking.”

“I’m mad at you.” But I’m really not. I’m happy. She deserves to be happy.

“Consider it payback for what you kids put me through.”

“Parental payback comes in the form of changing your adult diaper when you are, like, ninety. But you, young lady, are slogging all over Europe and not letting us know where you’re going. You’re so … grounded.” I smile. “Tell me about him.”

“Grigora is five years younger and an artist.” She smiles, and I swear I see a twinkle in her eye.

“Oh, boy.” I shake my head.

She continues on until I know more than a daughter should know of her mother, but I know he has his own money, a home, and he makes her smile.

She stops talking and looks past me. “Is that …?”

I look behind me to find Billy standing there.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“You aren’t interrupting.” I smile. “Good morning.”

He looks at the screen then back at me, clearly uncomfortable.

“Mom, say hi to Billy.”

“Hello, Billy. How are you?”

“I’m well. How are the travels?” He bends down and asks with a smile.

He’s close and smells yummy, and he is “afflicted” by me. Gaw!

“I’m having a wonderful time,” she answers.

“Tell him about leaving Pierre in Paris for Grigora in Greece.”

“Madison!” she scolds.

“What?” I giggle.

“She’s a beautiful, single woman; she’s entitled,” Billy states.

“Oh, I like you,” Mom says, pointing at him.

He smiles. “I’m glad.”

“Me, too, because I really like him.” I growl the end.

The way he looks at me is priceless, and I can’t help laughing.

“So the cat’s out of the bag finally, huh?” my mom asks.

“Yeah, but Memphis doesn’t know I like him, so—”

We both do the lock the lips thing and toss our imaginary keys over our shoulders.

“Can I ask what just happened?” Billy asks, clearly confused.

“She knows I like you,” I confess.

“Oh, Billy, I know everything.” Mom snickers.

“You told her about us?” Billy whispers.

“Wait … There is an us?” My mom sounds shocked.

“Fuck,” he says and shakes his head.

“I love you, Mom. Chat tomorrow?”

“I love you, too, and yes. Same time?”

I nod. “Of course.”

“Goodbye, Billy. Goodbye, Madison.”

I throw her a kiss and end our session then turn and look at Billy.

“I just told your mother I was fucking you, didn’t I?” he asks.

I shrug. “Not in so many words, but yeah, kind of.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Make it up to me later?”

He opens his eyes.

“I’ll cook for you.”

“My place tonight, and I’m cooking,” he counters.

“Well,” I joke, “I don’t know about all of that.”

“How is your ass?”

“He’s not such an ass anymore.” I smile, and he rolls his eyes. “I may have been a little bit overdramatic yesterday.”

“You?” he gasps.

“I know, right? But in my defense, it hurt like hell.”

“In your defense, you are wearing one hell of a bruise.”

“Oo...and he defends me.” I grin.

He cocks his head to the side. “I suppose he does.”

“I kind of like you, Billy Jeffers.”

“I know, your mother told me.” He winks, and I smile wider. “I have an appointment with my lawyer.” He turns around and grabs something. “I brought you this.”

I take the iced coffee and hot dog wrapped in foil, and I swear my face hurts from smiling.

He leans forward, puts his fingers to my lips, and kisses the air. “Enjoy your day. See you at seven.”

I have avoided contact with my parents since leaving Connecticut, and not because it was a well thought out plan or an act of a tantrum-throwing child. Never in my life have I thrown a tantrum or even questioned my parents when I believed something was wrong. We were the three amigos from the time I was twelve years old. Everything they did was under the illusion it was for me, the prodigal son.

I don’t hate them; I hate what they have done to me, to themselves, to … her.

I think about my high school days, my classmates, and this band, this brotherhood. I think of all the people I have been bothered by and, on the opposite side of the spectrum, those whose presence I have been graced with. Is it odd that one could be the same? I think not.

We are human. We make mistakes. We, if we choose to learn from them, grow from them.

Judgment is a fickle fuck, and Karma is truly a bitch. When they come together, all you can do is step back and watch. It’s a union to behold.

Leaving the lawyer’s office, I am hopeful I will walk away from this unscathed legally. What I have been advised to do will be the hardest thing I have ever done, but I have to do it.

To protect myself, I will be filing a judgment against my father’s future earnings. My mother is not named on the estate or the business, so she moves forward unmarked. Is she innocent? Undeniably not. She has working knowledge of it all. In this case, Judgment and Karma did not unite.

What the past year of my life has taught me about myself is I have looked down my nose at people in the same manner I was raised to do. I was never taught to do my best; it was ‘do better than.’ It was never ‘be happy with what you have or what you are’; it was ‘try harder, get more, and out do others.’ The lesson I have learned is that I don’t want to live like that anymore.

What Madison Black, the epitome of a tantrum-throwing child, has taught me in the year I have known her is that I am a son of a bitch at times.

Will that change?

Probably not.

I walk into Angel Donoza’s office, and she smiles as brightly as day. Is Angel beautiful? Undoubtedly. If given the chance to be on my arm, in my bed, on her knees right now, would she? Without question.

“Hey, how are you?” She looks at me with sympathetic eyes.

“I’m well, thank you.” I flop a folder on the desk in front of me and sit down.

“Could you pull up my accounts? I need to make some transfers.”

“Of course. Anything for you; you know that.” She pouts her lips.

“All money from the business account with my name on it, the one my father opened that has a balance of thirty-two grand, the money from the account I opened with you for investment transfers, and my personal account need to be transferred to this account.”

I push forward the account number my lawyer gave me. Fucking bitch never told me I was on the account when she gave me the information, ‘looking out for me’, more like covering her own ass for unknowingly helping my father, to get closer to me? No fucking clue what the bitch was thinking. But right now, I need to fix this, so I will play the game.

“Oh, okay, of course,” she says as she fills out the necessary forms.

“Thank you, Angel,” I say as I sit back and wait.

“A total of…eight hundred forty-two thousand—”

“Wait,” I interrupt and pull out my phone to look at my notes. “There should be five hundred ninety-two thousand.”

“Right, well, a deposit was made into your account this morning—”

“Madison Black,” I say, knowing damn well it was her.

Little brat.

“It needs to be returned,” I tell her.

“She called and insisted. Then she said, if I told you, she was going to …” She clears her throat. “She said some hideous things.”

“Fine, I’ll take that part in cash.”

“Cash?” she gasps.

“Yes, along with her account number.”

“I can’t give you that.”

“We’ll keep it between us.” I wink.

“Well, I’m not sure—”

“Okay, that’s fine, don’t. But understand that I know you didn’t exactly play by the rules when fucking me over with my father.”

“I would never—”

“Cut the shit, Angel, and let’s get this deal done.”

“Billy!” she gasps.

“Please don’t look at me like you’re shocked or surprised I would say something like that. The innocent act was played out when I saw the picture of you on your knees with a mouth full of Xavier.”

“I can’t believe you are talking to me like this, not after everything we have been through.”

“We fucked, Angel, a very long time ago. And if I remember correctly, it was not even a good fuck.”

Her face hardens, and I see her true colors. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, no. But let's you and I walk up to one of those tellers and make sure these transactions actually take place.” I stand. “Let’s go. I have places to go, things to do, a fucking life to lead, and people to avoid.”