Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
That couldn’t be right.
I frowned as I scrolled through my Instagram. It couldn’t be right.
No way, no how.
My DMs were bulging. The red number in the corner of the app was in the triple digits. What the hell had happened?
I scrolled and saw the expired story in every single one of the replies.
More?
What’s this? What are their names? I need more!
So cute!
Is that a fox? *insert pterodactyl screech* I NEED MORE!
A screenshot of my work was reshared by Penn Masterson, the famous graphic artist. The Penn Masterson who could write his ticket at DC Entertainment or Dark Horse. I wasn’t a huge comic girl, but I followed his stuff. It was epic shit and his was one of the first indie comics to really blow up.
And he’d shared my Roz and Sylvia to his seventeen million followers.
My heart raced and my stomach pitched. I bent at the waist near the side of my building as the gravel went sparkly. Panic and shock layered one on top of the other.
I’d only posted the story with the sketch so the universe would show me that it was nothing.
And okay, maybe a little tiny part of me thought it would get a few nice replies from people who followed my tarot posts. Tarot Tramps, my podcast with Luna, also had a decent following. But not like this.
My phone kept buzzing in my hand as more notifications rolled in.
I gulped in huge lungfuls of oxygen, trying to calm the panic threatening to drop me on my ass.
You can do this.
You will not pass out right outside your apartment building like a chick with the vapors.
I forced slow breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth until the world stopped tilting.
Finally, my chest eased enough for me to stand up straight—and then I noticed a silver Airstream parked on the side of my building.
I glanced up at the sky. “Are you kidding me?”
Maybe it was another Airstream. Retro was trendy these days, right?
The tail end of the rust-pocked vehicle was partially obscured by trees, but an airbrushed rainbow-colored peace sign with the initials RM drawn in bubble letters was like a neon arrow.
Of all the days for my mother to come into town.
Would she notice me sneaking inside? Maybe I could pretend I wasn’t home.
I crept up the stairs, only to find the door unlocked and my hide-a-key missing. I sighed as I slipped inside. My shower was running, and my mother’s off-key singing floated out into my apartment.
A massive sack of laundry sat in the middle of my kitchen, half of the contents spilling out in front of my oven. A plethora of tie-dye shirts and yoga pants could not be contained.
Rainbow Moon had arrived.
She’d had me when she was barely eighteen. Her music of choice was the hair metal channel with a side of nineties grunge to make her a little more well-rounded. She also loved traveling around to music festivals.
My mother, the perpetual groupie. At least when she was between boyfriends.
I was actually shocked she hadn’t leaned into the rockstar thing, but she always said opposites attracted her the most.
Maybe I was more like her than I thought.
I touched the burn on my lip. I’d literally been burned for thinking PMS and I were a good idea. Was that the universe having another laugh at my expense?
Or was it a warning?
I collapsed into my chair at my kitchen table. The residual energy from having PMS in my space made everything feel…different. The room divider that closed off my bedroom area was see-through enough that I could just glimpse the twisted sheets of my bed.
My whole body was still humming from yesterday. I had a healthy relationship with sex. I liked it, embraced it even. I’d had a few lovers over the years, and while it was rare for me to let them in my personal space, it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary.
Preston Shaw was not ordinary.
He was pushy and overwhelming and rigid, but at the same time, he was the most giving lover I’d ever been with. He didn’t make sense.
We didn’t make sense.
It was better if I just cut things off now before either of us got too invested.
And if I’d wanted to believe otherwise, even for a second, here came Rainbow Moon to remind me that opening up meant I’d better prepare for a crash landing.
I was just about to call the office to tell him I wouldn’t be in when my mother came out of the bathroom.
She jumped, slapping her hand over her chest. “Ryan Genevieve Moon, you scared me half to death.”
I winced at the middle name usage. “A little breaking and entering to start your visit, Rainbow?”
She waved me off. “That hiding spot for your key is ridiculous. Anyone could find it.”
I rolled my eyes and made a mental note to find a better hiding place. I thought I’d been pretty clever by using one of the carvings in the door frame. Guess not.
She bustled into the kitchen, dripping water on the floor.
She was short where I was fairly tall, light to my dark in all ways from hair to skin.
Biology had not given us much in common.
Personality wise we were legions apart as well.
In fact, when I had managed to go to school, the teachers hadn’t believed she was my mother.
Me either, to be truthful.
“Do you have a washer?”
“A small stackable unit in my closet.”
“Perfect.” She toed over her bag to me. “Be a love.”
I pressed my lips together against a pithy reply about her taking it down to the laundromat. It was just easier to do a load for her.
Shoving the clothes back into the bag, I hefted it and headed over to my bedroom area. “How long are you in town?”
“Actually, I was heading to the Adirondacks and wondered if you might want to come with me. It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out.”
“Need money again?” I called.
“No—well, okay, maybe a little.”
Of course she did. The only time she came to see me was when her bank account was low. Not that she ever had much to add to it. I had just made her get one, so I didn’t have to worry about her being stranded somewhere.
And I added to the balance monthly because I was an idiot.
She followed me and tugged a black dress out of my closet. “Oh, Ryan. Don’t you have anything with color?”
“My style is all black. You know this.”
She dropped her towel. “I don’t look good in black.”
I focused on stuffing her clothes in my washer and not on the fact that my mother just flashed all of her wares at me. “Well, it is my closet.”
She sighed and fussed with the sleeves then tugged at the front of the dress that hung low on her. “How is it that I got less boobs than you? I made you.”
“Boobs are a pain in the ass.”
“You only say that because you have them.”
Nudging her aside, I reached for the top shelf of my closet where I kept some of the things she’d left behind the last time she blew in. I handed her the hot pink tank dress and one of her flowy button down shirts. “Here.”
She flipped my dress off and left it on the floor. “That’s where this went.” She shimmied into the dress and tied the shirt around her hips. “Much better.”
I sighed and bent to pick up my tone-on-tone sunflower dress. “I just put five-hundred dollars in your account last month.”
“I know, sweetie. I appreciate that. I bought some primo undyed wool. Wait until you see the hanks I made up with madder root. They’re this rich raspberry color.
” She made a chef’s kiss noise. “I figured out some new colors with a cotton I got from some mill ends for real cheap.” She rushed over to her hemp bag.
“I used some of it to knit a summer coverup.”
She came back and held it up in front of me. “Look at that juicy red color. It would look amazing with your hair.” She curled the netting around my hair and tilted her head. “Oh, I could make hair wraps.”
Off and running with something feeding that crazy brain of hers, she muttered to herself about stitches. Naturally, she left the summer weight wool around my neck. It was still too hot, especially since I’d been loading the washer with her frigging clothes. I set the machine to wash.
“Did you use a natural soap?”
“Yes.” Lies. Kind of. I’d used my usual detergents from a subscription service I’d been buying from for ages.
“Whew.”
As I tugged off the half-knitted garment, the long circular needles tangled in my hair. “Ow.” I shook my head as I followed her back into the kitchen.
I dropped the coverup on the table where she was scribbling madly in a notebook with one of my Blackwing pencils. I didn’t even bother taking the pricey sketch pencil back when she shoved it in her bag.
She smiled up at me. “I can’t wait to work on this idea. It’s perfect for the end of summer.” She picked up her knitting, noticing my sketchbook. “Oh, are you drawing again?”
I reached for the notebook, but she was too quick.
“Oh. Oh…” She held it against her chest. “It’s so good.” She went back to flipping pages. Then giggled, turning back a few. “Is she a fox or a cat?”
I took the notebook from her. “Fox.”
She frowned, but then her face cleared. The one nice thing about my mother was that you couldn’t out-rude her. She was fairly oblivious. “Well, I’m glad to see you doodling again. It always made you so happy when you were a kid.”
My eyebrow winged up. “You noticed me drawing?”
“Of course. I kept track of all your hobbies.”
Not my homework though. She couldn’t have cared less about that.
“What do you need the money for, Rainbow?”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” She huffed out a breath. “I want to spend some time with you. But I also have a booth at the Bear Mountain craft fair. Can’t you get away?”
“I have a life here.”
“I know, but it’s just four days. We can make it a girl trip and camp out like the old days. Make some s’mores. You can help me eat some of the peach jam I made. It didn’t sell like I thought it would.”
“I…”
“Is there something keeping you here?”
Was there?
My phone display glowed bright, PMS’s name flashing with a text.
PMS:
Where are you? Do you need help in the shower?