She stops and folds her arms and glares at me. I glare at her right back.
"You're so annoying sometimes!" she grumbles.
"So are you babe," I tell her tightly.
"Fine," she says quietly, moving past me and out the door.
We walk in silence for about five minutes. It's nice, quiet, and relaxing. Finally she stops and turns towards me.
"I can wear a mask when I'm at the club."
I look at her, confused.
"I can’t be exposed to the world." Her voice is quiet and sounds fragile in the empty street. I walk towards her and pull her to me; she doesn't pull away. It's always a toss up with that.
"If I asked who you're hiding from, would you tell me?"
"Myself," she says quietly, avoiding my gaze.
"When you look at me, it's like I'm perfect, and I am so far from that." I move to approach her but she steps back. When she looks up at me her sadness makes my chest tighten.
"I am so screwed up, you have no idea. It's the whole reason that I didn't want to get close to you. I'm not who you think I am. I can never be who you want me to be I'm not a normal girl." She's speaking so fast her words are slurring together. I lift her chin up.
"I don't think you're perfect, I think you're nuts like most women are, but you're my special little psycho and I wouldn't trade you for the world."
This causes a small smile to creep across her face. “You’re such an ass sometimes,” she says but she’s grinning, her confidence back. She pushes me away and walks ahead of me.
"I want you to meet my parents." When I say this she stops in her tracks. She turns and looks back at me, her brow arched questioningly.
"I tell you how screwed up I am and your response is to meet your parents?" she asks, holding back a laugh. I nod.
"I'm starting to think you're just as crazy as me," she says playfully. I grab her by the waist, lift her up, and throw her over my shoulder. She squeals in delight.
"Did I mention, I told them you'll meet them today?" I sneak in quickly. Her body freezes and she slaps me hard on the back.
"Ian what the hell?"
"I knew if I told you, you'd freak out."
"I can't believe you said I'd come," she says, wriggling over my shoulder.
"I hinted that you might come. I'm hoping that you will. My mom's cool, Pete’s going to love you," I promise her.
"Put me down," she demands.
"Only if you promise to not leave or kick me in the balls."
She groans.
"I promise not to do one of those things," she says on edge.
"You've got to promise not to do either, sweet cheeks," I tell her before slapping her across the ass.
We’re here. It took all morning, and my head between her thighs licking and sucking away every protest she had, but she finally agreed.
"If I didn't know any better I'd think you were nervous," I tease her while squeezing her hand.
"You know I don't give a shit what anyone thinks of me," she teases back, but she's chewing on her lip. We only have three more houses to pass on the little block in Berwyn, where my mom and stepdad's lived for the past four years. It's a lower middle-class suburb in Illinois, only a few minutes outside of Chicago, but it could be the Beverly Hills compared to the block I grew up on when I was a kid. It's lined with bungalows and a few apartment buildings and is a pretty quiet block. There's a dog at nearly every house, all different breeds, though most of the little shits bark all the time. In my old neighborhood dogs weren't pets but more like security, all pit bulls and rottweilers. I'm glad my mom has moved up in the world.
"You ever see yourself living somewhere like this?" I ask her as she stuffs her hands in her jeans. I know she wants to impress my mom because she's not wearing anything low cut and tight like she normally does. The jeans are hugging her curves but she has a black blazer over her tight white t-shirt, and her hair in a ball how girls wear on the top of their heads, with a few strands framing her face in the front. It's the tamest I've ever seen her, and I want to tease her about it but I know she's really making an effort, and I'd hate for her to take it the wrong way.
“In another life maybe.” She’s quiet. I take her hand and kiss her cheek; she playfully pushes me away.
“She’s going to love you,” I say, almost confident. My mom is a tough woman. She taught inner city kids for fifteen years. She’s sweet with a hard edge is how I’d describe her.
“How many girls have you brought here?” she asks, letting out a breath and putting on a pair of sunglasses.
“One.”
She stops dead in her tracks right in front of me.
“And what made her so special?” she asks teasingly, just a hint of jealousy. And I like it.
“She was my prom date, I sort of had to.” Her wide smile lessens.
“So I’m the first girl you’ve brought home after you hit puberty?”
“Something like that,” I say with a shrug. She looks at me, those big grey eyes all consuming, pulling me in, making me a big pussy. I push her and she puts her leg in front of me and I trip. She breaks out in a run.
“No wonder I don’t get to meet any of your girls!” my mom calls out from her front door with a wide smile. “You break him, you buy him,” my mom adds, a hand on her hip, her tone resting between warning and friendly.
“Oh my gosh she’s your twin,” Alana mutters under her breath. I can’t deny it. I’ve always been told me and my mom have the same face…well, she’s a lot prettier and tiny at 4’11” but the fire in that woman would blow you away.
"Mom this is..."
"Alana. I pried his name out of you weeks ago," she says with a wink that makes me let out an embarrassed sigh. I give my mom a bear hug and she looks at Alana, taking her in.
"It's nice to meet you Mrs. Cage." They both shake hands. I kind of wish my mom would've given her a hug but Alana likes her space.
"Your dad's in the back. Burgers are almost done, y'all follow me."
The smell of grilled meat seduces my senses. Pete’s on the grill, a beer in hand and sports radio on in the background.
“Look who I’ve got,” my mom announces happily. He turns towards us and when his eyes land on Alana, he gets a shit-eating grin on his face.
“This is Ian’s girl, isn’t she pretty?”
“Pretty’s an understatement. I’d ask for a hug but I don’t want to get you all greasy.” He laughs.
“I’m okay with a little bit of grease.” Alana gives him an award-winning smile and a hug. I’m shocked at this. Pete looks at me, already giving his approval. My eyes go to my mom, who looks at her almost warily. What the hell?
“Aren’t you sweet. Diane can take some lessons,” he says playfully. My mom glares at him stubbornly.
“Don’t let her fool you,” I interject and Alana swats me.
Pete and my mom have been married since I was ten. He took us from the worst part of Chicago to the burbs and he made my life more stable than I’d ever thought it would be. He’s not my biological dad but he’s like the father I never thought I’d have. Pete’s the guy who played basketball with me, taught me how to box, and gave me a box of condoms when I turned fifteen. Not perfect by any means but I don’t know where I’d be if he didn’t come into our life, taking on the bills so my mom could get her degree, giving me the benefit of a two-parent household. Pete’s not hard to please and I didn’t expect my mom to be, but the air around her is chilly and I hope Alana hasn’t picked up on it.