Chapter 2
Becca wiped off the six-slot ceramic taco holder she”d proudly made at a craft workshop and put it in the middle of the round kitchen table covered by a kitschy tablecloth she”d picked up on a business trip to Santa Fe. She thought the colorful southwest designs brightened up her tiny kitchen.
It wasn”t Taco Tuesday, but that”s what she made for dinner because her daughter Kori lived in a world where tacos reigned supreme. When Kori asked for the cheap and cheerful feast, Becca jumped at the chance to do her mom thing.
Things at home were going pretty good, or as good as a home with a budding teenager could be. Her darling baby girl might not turn thirteen for two months, but this did not change the fact that she had the mouth of a forty-year-old.
For a long time, Kori blamed her mother for their lives falling apart. Placing all the blame at Becca”s feet was the most challenging part of the fallout from the battle her in-laws had waged over custody of the child they stole from her while she served in Iraq.
The custody campaign proved quite challenging. In some ways, it was harder than the war she survived. Kori didn”t remember the knockdown, twenty-round slugfest ending with Becca”s total victory. What she did remember, however, was the aftermath when legal bills sucked their finances dry, and what started as frugality turned to penny-pinching and eventually homelessness.
Those were desperate days. She”d never been more scared. Flying without a safety net as a single mom took a toll even greater than when foreign fighters rained hellfire and bullets at coalition forces.
Creativity, grit, and determination saved the situation. It was not easy when so many things were stacked against them. One day in the future, maybe she”d write a book about their experiences and let people know that no matter how bad things look, they should never give up because you never know what”s right around the corner.
For Becca and Kori, their corner was a tiny Arizona town on the edge of nowhere, absurdly named Bendover. She”d heard about the town”s outreach program, a mecca for struggling veterans.
In every way that mattered, Bendover and Justice saved her life. Eventually, things started turning around. Now they were settled—Kori was doing great in school, and Becca had a job she was proud of.
Bendover for the win.
She happily sighed as her gaze swept the little kitchen. Short on counters and needing more prep space made cooking a challenge, but organization and clever problem-solving were where she did her best work. A taco feast with its many ingredients was right up her alley.
”Kori,” she called out. ”Wash your hands for dinner.”
Removing a full apron that declared her a ”Hawt Mama,” Becca pulled a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge and remembered to double-check the stovetop controls to make sure they were off.
When a minute or three passed, and she didn”t hear Kori moving around, she searched for her daughter.
”What are you working on?” she asked when she found her hunched over the desk in her bedroom, frantically scribbling in a notebook.
After no response, she gently touched her daughter”s shoulder, causing Kori to flinch and hurriedly look up. Then she plucked her earbuds out and made a face.
”Sorry. Had my F-Yous in. What”s up?”
Becca chuckled. With her thirteenth birthday on the horizon, Kori earned certain rights and privileges that befitted a junior adult. She could stay up later, hang out with approved friends, and, within reason, indulge in some casual swearing. Calling her earphones F-Yous was amusingly cute. The phrase conveyed the ”fuck you” nature of today”s on-the-go technology.
”Dinner is ready. Wash up, and let”s do this. I even made guacamole from scratch.”
”Sweet!”her daughter exclaimed.
While Kori straightened up her desk, Becca noticed a folded newspaper atop a stack of books and reached for it. The small-town Bendover Herald publication was the product of Bernie Apples and Applegate Media. The boomer babe”s communication company had its fingers in many pies—podcasting, newspapers, and web shows.
”What are you doing with this?”she asked.
”Oh, I”m gonna send it to the grands. Look!”Kori exclaimed, pointing at the staged photo showing Becca in hair and makeup and wearing a fancy gown. ”Grandma and Grandpa are gonna love those pictures. They”ll show it to everyone at the senior center,”she drawled in a voice brimming with love for the grandparents she adored.
Becca thought, ”Thank god at least one set of Kori”s grandparents aren”t complete assholes.”
In a gentle tone, she said, ”I sent them a bunch of gift cards. That was a great idea you had for helping them out without causing embarrassment.”
Kori beamed at the praise. She made a cute face and said, ”Guaranteed that Grandma tells all her old lady friends about how she bought old Abner a year”s supply of underwear at Walmart thanks to a gift card from her successful kid.”
”Your grandfather”s name is not Abner.”
”I know,”Kori chuckled, ”but that”s his name when I tell stories.”
She laughed. ”Come on, you. Tacos are getting cold.”
Once Kori washed up, they reconvened in the kitchen and chatted while Becca reheated the seasoned taco meat.
”Ooh, these flowers are pretty. Ben said they”re prairie gentian.”Kori touched a finger to the dark purple bloom sticking out of a short vase. ”We should always have flowers.”
Becca sat and put a napkin in her lap.”I like them too. They”re called lisianthus. I had to look them up online, though. It was quite a tongue-twister. I totally get why they”re called a simpler name,”she chuckled.
”Ben can grow anything,”Kori said with a cute snicker. ”Some think it”s freaky, but it”s just science.”
Ben Morales, property manager for the entire Marquez Villa and Justice compound, was a jack of all trades and Alex Marquez”s right-hand man in Bendover. The guy played a part in just about everything.
”Shall we pray?”Kori asked with a straight face.
”Excuse me?”
Her daughter shrugged. ”I blame Matty. With him in Bendover for the summer, we”re all back on the gratitude train.”
Matthew James Bishop, Matty to some, was like Kori in that the young lad seemed way older than his years. What grade was he in? Becca wasn”t sure. Maybe first, maybe third. It didn”t matter,though. Matty was an old soul. People of all ages and from many walks of life put a great deal of store in what he brought to the collective table.
”I”m here for gratitude,”she replied soberly. ”Go on then. Give it a go.”
”Hmm.”Kori sat back and glanced at the ceiling.
Becca assumed she was searching for inspiration. When the right words came, her daughter grabbed her hand, bowed her head, and said the prayer.
”Hey God, let”s taco ”bout how grateful we are for this meal. Amen.”
And that is what happens when the young take the lead!
Pulling the taco holder close, they each stuffed three tacos, chatting easily about their day and commenting about the intense heat of an Arizona summer.
Out of the clear blue, and without any warning, Kori lobbed a verbal grenade into Becca”s lap and did so without a shred of awkwardness. Her daughter asked a serious question and expected a serious answer.
”Do you ever think you”ll date again? I know Dad messed you up pretty good, but it”s been ages, Mom. Ages and ages. Don”t you think it”s time?”
Stalling, she shrugged and muttered, ”Time for what?”
Leave it to the teenager to have a verbal comeback. ”Time to loosen up and party. Get your freak on.”
”Get my freak on?”she stammered incredulously.
”Yeah, you know,”Kori plowed ahead as if Becca wasn”t gob-smacked and slack-jawed. ”Night out with grown-ups. Laughter. Good times. Maybe some dancing. Channel your inner MILF. See what happens. I mean, you never know who”s waiting in the wings.”
”I hate that term. MILF.”
”Okay,”Kori chuckled. ”How about cougar?”She mimicked a cat meowing with a swipe of claws.
Instead of shutting down the grown-up subject, Becca nibbled her lip and pushed hair behind an ear.
”I don”t think I”m cougar material. And for the record, I”m not that old.”
In a teasing drawl, her way-too-mature daughter said, ”Who was that dude who interrupted us at Whiskey Pete”s? Ruined a perfectly awesome early bird special if I remember correctly.”Kori gave a half-smirk and raised a brow, waiting for a response.
Gripping her glass of iced tea, Becca gave the beverage an aggressive stir with a reusable straw. She recalled the dinner interruptus Kori referred to courtesy of the unctuous Josh Gordon.
In all honesty, there was no way she”d ever give the preening dipshit a chance. Guys like him are prime examples of toxic masculinity. On general principle alone, she was obligated to torch the bastard if she ever got a chance, plus there was his whole thorn-in-the-side reputation to consider.
Parker Sullivan hated Josh Gordon.
So did Alex Marquez.
A beef started between the three back in high school and, over the years, had only intensified thanks to Josh and his stupid band, the Chixie Dicks.
Bendover had one house band – Desert Thunder. Period. End of story.
Becca acknowledged that while she was not technically Family Justice, she was certainly Family Justice adjacent, so her loyalty lay with Thunder. Getting friendly with the Chixie Dicks lead, even casually, would be synonymous with mutiny. Or betrayal. Both of those applied.
Thinking about her antipathy for Josh delayed Becca”s reaction and allowed Kori to continue.
”And then, of course, there”s Jamie. He”s grown on me,”Kori chuckled. ”Don”t see much of his Doc Sphincter side – unless you”re around. The guy can”t be a dick fast enough once you walk in the room.”
”Well, first of all, missy – I don”t care if he told you to call him by his first name. I don”t like it.”
In her head, she heard a sarcastic voice say, ”He”s never told me to call him Jamie.”
”And second – can we ixnay the ickday talk? Please? I know you think you”re grown up and everything, but as your mom, I”m not ready to engage in casual swearing and crude language with you. Okay?”
Kori rolled her eyes and stuffed a taco into her mouth. ”Whatever, Mom,”she mumbled while chewing. ”Your maternal outrage is a smokescreen. I read about it in a psychology journal. The emotional ruse obscures what”s really going on.”
Psychology journal? Good lord. Parenting in this day and age was a never-ending what the fuck moment.
”And what”s really going on?”She should have kept her mouth shut.
”Obsessing over ickday talk keeps you from exploring your authentic self. You know what that is, right? Mom, you”re so much more than a nuts-and-bolts, by-the-book person. I get why you think you have to be uptight and all, butwhen”sit going to be enough? It”s a new world now when girls can be badasses and still party. Having a good time doesn”t mean you”re irresponsible or selfish.”Kori ended this speech with a shrug.
”Was Carl Jung part of your summer reading list?”She chuckled at the joke she was trying to make. Becca couldn”t remember what books she read at thirteen, but she was ninety-nine percent sure none of it concerned modern psychology.
”Oof,”Kori groaned. ”Don”t get me started on the book list. Did you know there”s a separate one for girls and boys?”
”Yes, but there”s also a section for everybody, so don”t lose sight of the fact that you can read whatever you want off any of the lists.”
”Mom, I”m serious about you getting out there. It”s time you dated.”
”Why is this so important, Kori?”
”I”dlike some alone time,”the precocious, almost thirteen-year-old laughed. ”You”re like all up in my business twenty-four seven. If you were dating, then maybe I could catch a break.”
”Oh, so this isn”t about wanting your old mom to be happy,” she said, making a face. ”It”s about you and alone time,”she drawled, using air quotes for emphasis.
”Hey,”Kori said with a big grin. ”A kid”s gotta do what a kid”s gotta do, okay?”
”Oy,” Becca groaned, covering her eyes with a hand. ”I can”t believe this is what we talk about over dinner.”