10. Hendrix
Hendrix
“ I can’t fucking believe this!” Storming into the kitchen, I head straight for Mom by the island, still wrapped in her silk robe as she retrieves an espresso from Darla, the housekeeper.
“Oh my goodness! Right?” She places the cup on the counter to hug me. “I was just watching the update on the news. Thank God nobody was in the building.”
My head is still reeling as I recall what I woke up to hearing on Bex’s TV. “The fire took out the entire first floor.”
“I know, Vic told me. So, so sad.” Mom pouts, lifting the cup and taking a sip.
“Uhm, yeah. Because now the dorms are closed for the rest of the summer.” I should know, I was there…screaming to be let in.
After yet another night of getting wasted at a house party with Archer and Bex, I stayed over at her house instead of heading back to the dorms. Then, when I did return, I was stopped by a guy in a hazmat suit and told to pretty much to fuck off when demanding entry to my room.
Most kids go home for the summer in Riverside, which is something I did until my mother decided to up and sell the fucking condo two weeks ago. Yup. Sold it—from right under my nose—to a sweet old couple from Georgia.
Said she didn’t see it as an issue since I dorm at the school all year, and I keep insisting I want to do the same when I’m in college.
So the only time I’d ever really be at the Lavell mansion is for the holidays and summer—the second of which is over very soon.
Mom struts over to the dining table with me right on her tail. “Oh, this is not good. I’m sorry, baby.”
“Sorry?” I scoff. “Really? That’s all you got?”
“What do you want me to say?” She sits down. “It’s not like you don’t have anywhere to go.”
I can smell the crazy in that sentence from a mile away.
If my mother thinks for one second I will move my stuff into this ancient mansion-slash-bunker like some rags to riches to even more riches, she’s got quite the news flash coming.
As if being hit in the face by surveillance cameras and an endless gallery of Patron Saints isn’t enough to give me the ick.
Imagining myself stuck in a house with Saint, in a room made up of vintage wallpaper and cartouches, or whatever Vic calls the naked angels, is so much more than enough to have me gagging on the fresh lemon scent in the air.
And oh my fuck.
Someone please tell me what. The heck. Is with. The Lavells. And citrus?
“I am not staying here.” Mom opens her mouth to rebut but I cut her off. “Don’t start. You promised not to force me on this. Especially after what happened the night of the wedding.”
It’s been over two weeks since Saint barged into Lance’s suite like an animal and nearly killed him in front of me.
Now nobody has seen the psycho since.
In fact, Vic barely talks about him.
At least when I’m around.
I’ve had my theories…mostly including padded rooms and nasty blood suckers…but every time I try to pry an ounce of information out of Theory, she shuts me down or lies and tells me he’s off visiting family.
I should be relieved, content with the peace and the drama free parties, but I can’t help this nagging feeling that wants to know where he’s been.
If the guy’s still alive or even human .
If it’s true there’s a version of Saint that he, and the kids at school, actually believe exists inside of him like an evil entity.
Sounds crazy, I know. But I’ve seen Saint shift enough times to at least consider the possibility he is that mad.
And I saw enough of “Vicious” the night of our parents’ wedding to know if he does exist in Saint’s mind, then he must’ve been somewhere with us in the closet during orientation.
Chills wreak havoc along my body just thinking about it.
“And I meant that promise. But things happen. Plans change.”
Plopping down next to her, I let out a disgruntled, “Oh, trust me. I’m well aware.”
“Hendrix…” Mom sighs. “Will there ever be a day you forgive me?”
My shoulders sag as I lean my head on her shoulder. “Mom, c’mon. There’s nothing to be forgiven. I just…I can’t. I need more time, okay? But I promise I’m happy you’re happy.”
“Okay, baby. But I’m hoping one day you will be too.”
“Oh, I will.” I chuckle, straightening back up. “Because I already have a solution.”
“A solution?”
“A soluzione .”
“Look at you!” She playfully punches my arm. “Speaking the way of your ancestors.”
“ Half my ancestors.”
She snickers. “Yeah, well, I doubt Riverside will be offering Gaelic.”
“No. Just smoke inhalation.”
We share a laugh, but it dies miserably when Mom’s sip of espresso turns into a shot. “So, tell me about this solution.”
“I’ll stay at a hotel for the next week. Or until whenever they clear us to return.”
“Like hell you will,” she blurts, shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”
“Seriously? I’ve been living on my own for months now.”
“At a school, Hendrix. Not a hotel with no supervision.”
“I’ll have Archer stay with me,” I argue, smiling at Darla as she places Mom’s bacon and eggs in front of her.
“ Like I said …” Mom deadpans. “No supervision.”
Clearly she underestimates my best friend’s need to abide by rules and regulations.
After denying Darla’s offer to bring me a plate of food, I respond, “There are no other options. The girls’ dorms are closed until at least the start of school.”
“There is another option,” Mom returns, thanking Darla before she walks away. “You just don’t like it.”
“Correction. Hate it. And already said it’s not happening.”
She nudges her plate closer to me, holding out the fork. When I cross my arms she shrugs, helping herself to some scrambled eggs.
“It would be a great chance to get to know Theory better, maybe even…”
“Seriously?” I interject before she even says his name. “You want me to get to know the guy who beat up a wedding guest? Ruined your wedding? Prevented you and Vic from going on your honeymoon?”
“Everybody has their mental struggles, you of all people should understand that.”
“Uh, yeah. But does everybody take them out on cute innocent college guys?”
“No. They don't. But you weren’t there. Which means you don’t know the whole story.”
Yeah…that.
I may or may not have kept my word about staying silent.
And may or may not have also taken it a step further by pretending I was sound asleep in my suite.
I know, I know. Add it to my list of moral grievances.
“I’d love to see you justify that to the police when they come knocking.”
She freezes. “Why on earth would they come knocking? Did you say something?”
“Uh, no. But nice to know how you’d feel if I did.”
“This is a family issue, Hendrix. We have to keep it that way. We don’t need any unwanted attention.”
There she is.
The lady that raised me.
That knew being involved with problematic men would get us in nothing but trouble. Which is precisely why she fled the last one even before he was locked up.
I know I should tell her this isn’t my family problem, but I’m really trying to maintain a healthy balance of petty contempt.
“Good luck with steering clear of attention. If you’re not already aware, Vic’s son tends to gather the worst kind.”
“Which is why I know Vic has his reasons for sending Saint to Europe.”
“And your naivety is why I know I can’t live here, not even for two seconds.”
Mom’s cell phone rings, so she reaches into her pocket to see who it is. Her jaw tightens, then she silences the call.
Interesting.
“Need to get that?” I ask when she plucks a piece of bacon off her plate.
“Nope.”
“Well, maybe you should.”
“Hendrix, would you stop?”
“I don’t know...last time you ignored a call in front of me you ended up marrying the person on the other end two months later.”
The phone starts to ring again and she slams a hand down on the table, making me, along with the maid sweeping behind us, jump.
“Stop worrying about things that don’t concern you!” She slides her chair back and stands, neck turning red the same way mine does when I’m on edge. “Including my calls and how Vic is dealing with his son.”
One never does grow immune to whiplash. It’s why I’ve been reduced to slow blinking when Mom takes off, announcing she’s going to take a shower.
“Yeah…okay. You do that.”
“By the way…” She pauses her steps. “You will not be staying at a hotel, Hendrix. You will be staying here where you belong and that’s final.”
The muscles of my throat tighten as I jump out of the chair. “The fuck I am.”
“The fuck you are is right!” Mom turns around and shouts, making every maid but Darla scurry out of the room. “The Lavells are your family, now, whether you like it or not. So you better start acting like it.”
“Mom!”
“I will have Carlo go and get your things,” she says in a tone so dismissive it makes me want to chuck pork at her head.
“Who the fuck is Carlo?”
“Your new driver.”
A driver. Like really?
My feet worked just fine before she got married.
And just fine this morning when I got onto the train by Bex’s building.
As if being summoned, a middle aged man appears in the doorway, wearing gray slacks, suspenders, and a blank expression.
She holds a hand out. “Hendrix, meet Carlo.”
“ Buongiorno, signorina .”
I smile tightly at him.
“Really, Mom? Al Pacino? What is this, The Godfather ?”
She lets out a tsk. “Oh, please. Pacino is way older.”
“Not in part three,” I hiss. “Now tell him to fuck off, or I will.”
“I will do nothing of the sort. Carlo’s new to the country, eager to work, and more than qualified for the job.”
“Oh, yeah. Because it takes a master’s degree to play chauffeur.”
“Hendrix, I said enough.” Her rigid tone resurfaces. “There is no reason for you to continue taking the subways of Manhattan. Not when we have the means to get you around safely.”
Sure, maybe the mansion resides two train stops away from a sketchy neighborhood, but we’re not close enough to justify being this neurotic.