Chapter 1
CHAPTER
ONE
HARLOW
“Hey Rox?” my voice fills the space around me as I try to locate her.
“Bathroom,” she calls back.
I make my way down our tiny hallway into her bedroom, finding her in her bathroom, she smiles at me in the mirror as she coats mascara on her lashes. “Hey gorgeous.”
“Date?” I ask as I take in her cute outfit.
She huffs out a breath. “Yeah, I don’t hold any hope on this one, but maybe he will surprise me.”
“A guy?” My brow lifts as I question her. “Thought you swore them off.”
A frown mars her beautiful face. Roxy has jet black hair, bright blue eyes, and the smoothest skin you have ever seen. No one ever thinks she is her age, fifty. People do however assume we are related, my hair is nearly as dark, though I have a light hazel eye color.
“I did, but you know me, indecisive when it comes to who I want to date. Sometimes guys, sometimes girls, maybe I need to start gearing for the somewhere in between.” She checks her teeth then turns to me holding her arms out. “How do I look?”
“Beautiful as always.” I smile at her, I know it looks pinched when her brows lift.
“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” Her hands catch mine, giving them a soft squeeze. “Talk to me.”
I shrug. “It’s nothing. I just… I have to go by my parents’ house. Dad is out of town, so this is my best chance at getting my paperwork.”
She makes a grumbling growling sound—it’s so freaking cute. “I can go with you. That bitch backs down with me every time.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, she does, but no, you have a date, and I need to do this.”
She releases one of my hands, bringing hers to my cheek, Roxy isn’t very big, but she is still taller than I am.
She must be around five and a half feet—I clock in somewhere around five-two.
I am usually the smallest person in the room.
I like to counter my tiny stature with heels, platforms, and other fabulous shoes, but since I take them off when I am inside the house, I am back to teeny-tiny.
“Alright, but you call me for any reason. I’ll come cut a bitch.” She offers a wink as she gives a light pinch to my chin, “I love you, girlie.”
“I love you too.” We give each other a big hug.
I walk her out, wish her a good date, then head to my room to change.
I don’t want to give Mom any reasons to have a problem with me.
Pulling on a long sleeve lightweight sweater in green, then double check my jeans look good, glad I put on ones without holes today.
She always bitches when I wear anything fashionable.
Pulling on some cute decorative socks, these ones have little hearts on them, I make my way out to the front door.
Slipping my feet into some heeled black booties, they give me a few inches while remaining tame.
I pull the big rings off my fingers, setting them in the dish by the door.
I check the mirror to see if I should take off anything else.
Frowning, I remove my favorite turquoise earrings, I got them at this fabulous consignment shop Roxy and I like to frequent.
They were my first big purchase—just for me.
They weren’t crazy expensive, but it was a lot for me to spend a few hundred on something.
Roxy insisted that my first big check should be used for at least a little something fun.
I wear them most days, they are big and bold, as Roxy would say, just like I am.
Deciding I look the best I am going to from Mom’s perspective, I grab my purse, and head out to my car.
Giving my car’s wheel a squeeze, I try to talk myself into having some confidence. “You got this.”
Making my way across town, feeling relieved when I see that Dad’s car is in fact gone, the worst would be if he was here.
I really hate being around my dad, he never has anything nice to say and frankly he creeps me out.
The way he looks at me is not the way a father should look at his daughter.
I knock on the front door after taking a deep breath in, slowly releasing it as I hear shuffling sounds inside.
The door swings open, my mother stands there, looking a little like me, but then I never did get how my parents were my parents.
Mom is blonde, Dad is brunette, but my hair is near black.
Then there is the fact that Mom has green eyes, Dad has blue eyes…
it’s weird that I have hazel, right? I look nothing like Dad at all, except for being a bit on the tanner side than Mom is and having dark hair.
My height and build are like mom, but that’s it.
I have always wondered if Mom cheated on Dad, and he just bought the line I was his.
Mom’s disgust shows on her face. “What do you want?”
“I need my social security card and birth certificate.” Folding my arms over my chest, her eyes track my hands.
“Do you think that looks pretty? It doesn’t. It’s disgusting. The scars on your hand would be better than that shit.” She points to the tattoos on the backs of my hands and over my fingers.
Biting back the dig I want to take at her, keeping it in because I know that the easiest way to get what I want is to just take her abuse—unless she starts throwing hands.
The last time she hit me was five years ago and she learned real fucking fast that I hit back now.
She steps back holding the door wide. “Fine, whatever. Just hurry up.”
I step past her, heading right to the file cabinet in Dad’s home office, I start rifling through each drawer.
After going through the damn thing for at least ten minutes, I finally come across the file that has my documents.
Pulling it out, I look through it. My eyes catch on my birth certificate, never having seen it before, I was getting ready to just go to the county to get it.
Now, seeing this, I’m glad I didn’t because I was clearly not born where I thought I was.
I glance over my shoulder to find my mom standing in the doorway watching me.
“I wasn’t born in Oregon?” I question.
She gives a wiggle of her nose. “Nope.”
I look it over and notice the father is left blank. “Why is Dad not listed as my father?”
She shrugs.
Knowing I’m not going to get shit from her, I decide to stop wasting my time, closing the file. I stuff it in my big purse, then shove to my feet. “I’ll get out of your hair now.”
“Good. Does this mean we can skip another visit?” She eyes me with all the annoyance she can seem to muster, which is a whole hell of a lot.
“Yup.” I hold my middle finger up to her as I push past her in the doorway.
Her hand pulls back and slams forward. The cracking sound of her open palm on my cheek hits me before the sting.
I shoulder check her into the wall, then dart down the hallway knowing that my best bet right now is to get the fuck out of here.
Shoving out the front door, not bothering to close it, I rush to my car.
When I look back, I find my mom standing in the doorway holding up her own middle finger.
Getting in my car, taking off, my heart pounding in my chest. I feel flustered.
Honestly, I do every time I see my parents now, they just kick the anxiety within me up to a thousand and I end up feeling fluttery in my chest and tense in my stomach.
Pulling into a parking lot, throwing my car in park, I work to calm myself down since it isn’t really a good idea to be all hyped up and driving.
My eyes lose focus staring out the windshield as I promise myself that I never have to see that woman ever again.
I never have to see her shitty ass husband.
I feel like I don’t even have to acknowledge him as my father…
apparently according to the state of California I don’t have a dad. Good.
I grab the file, popping it open on the passenger seat to look at my birth certificate again.
She never once told me she had been in California at my birth or even that she had ever lived there.
I mean, we have never had a good relationship, especially not one where she would be open about anything, but she would play nice in front of others, so it never came out then either.
She was always cagey about my paperwork, which is part of why I am nearly thirty and only now am getting my hands on it.
She went to my driver’s license appointment and handled it, being weird about not letting me do it.
Maybe she didn’t want me to see that she never put Dad on my certificate.
My mind flicks over to my lack of looking like him. Is he my father?
I stare at the open file noticing a little corner that looks like a picture under my birth certificate.
I lift it up, moving it over finding my social security card under along with a couple documents under that, but beside my card, that is what truly catches my attention.
I blink as I stare down at a picture, I reach out, my brilliantly painted and designed nails tapping against the photo as I grasp it.
Lifting it up, hitting the overhead light in the car so I can really get a good look at it now that it is getting darker.
I stare at the image of my mother standing with a man and a young boy.
The man has his arm around my mom, they are both smiling while the little boy at the man’s leg is sticking his tongue out at the camera.
My free hand reaches up to rub against my chin when I realize my jaw is hanging open because everything inside me is screaming.
I glance around the empty car to make sure no one can see me as I allow this new information to settle on me.
Swallowing hard, my eyes drop back to the picture.
I look like him. His hair is near black, his skin tanned like mine, his smile though…
that is mine. That is my smile. I look down at the little boy. Do I have a brother?
My phone is ringing in my ear before I even register that I grabbed it and dialed. My mother answers. “What? I thought we were done.”