Breaking Her Bad by Michelle Mankin

 

 

 

 

 

Kyle

“Do you think she’ll like me?” Bob asked.

We sat across from each other at a table inside Footit’s, waiting to see Addy. Nervous about the interview, Bob stared down at his hands, which were tightly clasped together in his lap.

“Everyone likes you when they get to know you,” I said.

“Yes.” He hooked a finger in the collar of his white polo shirt to loosen it. “But sometimes not at first.”

Because the world was a shitty place where our differences were something to be avoided rather than celebrated.

“Hi. Sorry I’m a little late.”

A slender, pretty, middle-aged blonde approached the table with an iPad in her hand. I’d seen Addy Footit whenever I came into her bar to see Tempest perform, but I’d never talked to her personally or seen her this close. She had a cute dimple in her chin.

“I’m Addy Footit.” She held her free hand out to Bob without any noticeable reaction to his Down syndrome.

“Hi, Miss Footit.” Bob stood and took her hand, then politely shook it. He remembered to maintain eye contact, doing exactly what I’d showed him earlier before he did something we hadn’t rehearsed. “You look as pretty as you did when my brother was in love with you.”

“Oh.” Grabbing the back of the chair in front of her, Addy dropped into it. “I wasn’t sure you would remember me.”

“I remember everything that was important to Collin.” Bob sat back down. “And you were the most important for a long time. You and his music.”

“Okay, what?” I asked. Staring at Bob, I was totally thunderstruck.

“That was another lifetime ago,” Addy said softly. The bar was empty, but her confirming what Bob said seemed to fill the air with weight.

Studying Addy more closely, I said, “My dad never mentioned you.”

I noticed that in addition to the cute cleft in her chin, she had striking greenish-blue eyes and a light scattering of freckles across her pert nose. While I studied her, she stared at me, her brow furrowed as if she were trying to reconcile something in her mind.

“You’re Collin and Miranda’s son.” She shook her head. “I wondered what you’d look like grown up, and if I’d ever get the opportunity to meet and talk to you one day.” Her gaze drifted over my features. “You have Collin’s eyes. His intensity. But the rest is your mom.”

“You knew my mother?” I leaned forward. No one in Southside seemed to. It was like she didn’t exist before she married my dad.

“She was my best friend for a while,” Addy said sadly.

“What changed that?” I wondered out loud.

My mom had always seemed so self-contained, though lonely. A loner a lot like me, I realized. Had she felt trapped inside her life because of her drug-addicted husband like I felt trapped because of Skellin?

“Your dad changed it.” Addy glanced away. “Collin made his choice. Then I made mine.”

She twisted her hands where they rested together on the table. Given her expression, I got the idea she thought both those choices had been wrong ones.

My eyes rounded as the implications of what she shared sank in. My dad had chosen my mom over Addy. But at least he’d had a choice. I had none except to be alone.

“Like I said, that was a lifetime ago.” Addy looked back at me, her features firm, though her eyes were swimming. “You’re here today looking for a job.”

“Bob is,” I said, gesturing to him.

She waved a hand, acknowledging her mistake. “Yes, right.”

Addy seemed to be having trouble concentrating, and so was I. I’d given Tommy the bracelet. Had he made his move? Were he and Claire already together?

“Your contact information on the application has you and Bob residing in subsidized housing.”

“That’s correct.”

The rent Skellin paid to the management company was low. The rent I paid him was a great deal higher. That tactic was the way he operated his drug business.

She gave me an assessing look. “Collin used to take care of Bob. After your grandparents died.”

“I never knew my grandparents.”

“Right, they died before you were born.”

I nodded. “I take care of Bob now.”

“Do you?” She tilted her head. “I assumed there was another grownup involved. Aren’t you still in school?”

“I’m a senior at Southside High. Bob is my guardian until I turn eighteen.” Uncomfortable with her scrutiny, I shifted in my chair.

“That’s an unusual situation.” Her gaze narrowed. “It doesn’t seem right. How did—”

“My parents are gone.” I cut her off, afraid Bob would lose his chance at the job if I had to try to explain something that wasn’t explainable without mentioning Martin Skellin having pulled strings. “There was no one else to take me in after the accident. So, Bob and I worked it out.”

“I’m so sorry about your parents.” Her gaze brightened with renewed wetness. “That was a tragedy. I wish—well, I wish I could’ve done something.”

When Addy began to sob, I didn’t know what to say.

Did she come to their funeral? I didn’t remember seeing her there. My dad had alienated everyone by the end, so the funeral was sparsely attended. But I didn’t want to ask her. I didn’t want to upset her more, and I also didn’t want her to do the math.

After the funeral, I’d moved into my old apartment. Martin paid the rent for it then, like he paid for it now. I took care of Bob, went to school, ran a business. It had been just Bob and me for as long as I could remember, and we’d made it work. Doing what was necessary, I’d grown up fast. I had to.

“That was a dark time,” she whispered.

“The worst.” I paused, giving her a moment to process. But it was also better than it had been before in a lot of ways. I didn’t have to dodge my dad’s irrational and violent mood swings. Just those of drug-addicted strangers.

“We should probably get back to the interview.” Swiping tears away from her cheeks, Addy suddenly reminded me of Claire. Trying not to show her emotions while her eyes gave everything away.

Don’t think about Claire.

“Yes, we probably should.” Absently, I rubbed the skin over my wrist where her bracelet had lain over my pulse point for a short time. “Bob doesn’t have specific busser experience.”

“But I like to work,” Bob said. “I know how to clean up. I worked in sanitation for years. People like me. Sometimes not at first.” He glanced at me, then back at her. “But they do after they get to know me.”

“The job is yours if you want it.” The glow of her iPad beneath her fingers winking out, Addy set it aside. Reaching across the table, she squeezed Bob’s hand. “I missed you, Bob. It’ll be nice having you around again.”

He smiled. “I missed you too, Addy.”

She glanced at me. “The job requires staying on the premises overnight. Do you think you could stay with him? Don’t say no; you’d be doing me a favor.” But her eyes told me she suspected she might be doing me one.

“I could do that.” My voice deepened with emotion. This was something I didn’t expect.

“I couldn’t pay you to stay with him. But you’re welcome to stay rent-free, if you can get out of your lease at your apartment.”

“I can,” I said.

The apartment was leased to Martin. I wasn’t old enough to sign the paperwork, but my age wasn’t a deterrent for the work I did for him. I had to be at that shit hole every night, but it would be a relief to come here afterward.

“Then it’s done.” Addy released Bob’s hand and offered hers to me.

I clasped and shook it. Her handshake was steady. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she looked at me, then Bob.

“Let me show you to your room.” She stood. “Then I’ll start training Bob.”