and looks up. “I wanted to ask a favor of you, actually.”
“I’ll do my best to help you out.”
“Well, you see, I have some issues.” She shakes her head. “I see a therapist once a week.”
“Because of Tony?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. It was never something that I worried about. Not since Cyrus. But now—”
My chest burns. “Now that I’m—”
“No, not really.” She blows a breath and looks at me. “Do you think maybe you could attend a session with me?”
Never went to a fucking shrink, unless you count a court-appointed anger management class. But being asked to go to one with a woman who has some issues no doubt brought on by your own father, regardless that you didn’t know him until recently … If you’re falling for her daughter, the right thing would be to go, but I don’t fucking want to.
“Just an hour,” she says as if she heard my thoughts.
“Yeah, sure. I guess I could do that.”
Walking out of the therapist’s office an hour and a half, not an hour, later, I do so with appreciation that I didn’t have ten minutes into the “session.”
“Are you upset with me?” she asks as she pulls her keys out with a swiftness her daughter does not share. In Truth’s defense, she lugs around a bag, while Tara has a tiny purse with several compartments, and each seems to have a specific use.
“No, I’m not.”
“I just didn’t know how to explain it. I didn’t want you to think that I felt like I was blameless and maybe harbored resentment toward you, and it ruin something that could be beautiful for you and my daughter.” She looks up at me. “Your friend, Gabrielle, spoke kindly of you, and Truth was both blessed and cursed by her name. I’ve never seen her this way.”
She hands me her keys. “Do you mind driving?”
“Sure.” I take the keys to a vehicle worth more than I’ll make first year out of college and shake my head as I step toward the vehicle.
She clears her throat, and I look at her. “Mind getting my door?”
Jesus Christ, I scold myself.
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
Driving down the road, my palms are sweating, and I feel exactly like I did when I went to court the four times I have in my life.
When the phone rings, I glance over at her and see her smile as the dash lights up with CYRUS.
She answers it.
“How was your appointment?” he asks.
“Good. I’m not too far from home.”
“That’s good. Our little birdie gave the boot a boot, so we’re having a dance party tonight.”
“Oh no, we aren’t.” Truth laughs.
“Bullshit, you got no excuses anymore,” Cyrus snaps at her. “And as much as I like that chick’s dune buggy, I wanna see you kick her ass for the lead in the next show.”
“Maybe I don’t wanna dance anymore.”
“Yeah, right,” he huffs.
“No, maybe I wanna go to college at a real school.”
“Yeah, for what?”
“Not sure yet. I still have time. Haven’t looked into what programs Columbia has to offer,” she says, and I can’t help but smile.
“I’m not paying for you to go study boys, Truth.”
“Don’t plan on studying boys. I plan on studying a man.”
I can’t help but smile bigger now.
“You think so?” he huffs. “You think I’m paying sixty Gs a year for you to chase ass, you got another thing coming.”
“Um, Cyrus …” Tara tries to interrupt.
“You like him”—Truth giggles—“and it pisses you off.”
“You sure you want a boy who pisses his pants?”
“He doesn’t piss his pants.” She laughs like she’s got a secret, and I hope to fuck her dad doesn’t call her on it.
“Guys …” Tara again tries to interrupt.
“Look, I’ll make you a deal. You start dancing again, and if you hate it, we’ll discuss Columbia.”
“I’m not dancing right now, and we’re discussing it, so—”
“Not anymore.” Cyrus laughs. “Tara, dance party tonight.”
“No freaking way,” Truth groans.
“Dance party, and I might shave some time off you being grounded till you’re thirty.”
She doesn’t say a thing.
“See you at home, Birdie”—he chuckles—“for a dance party, right, Truth?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she concedes.
“See you at home.” Tara laughs and ends the call as I roll to a stop light.
She giggles nervously as she looks at me and says, “Myself, Kiki’s mom, Carly, and Brisa’s mom, Bekah, all came from small families, so it was a lot to get used to.”
“I can see that.”
“And for me, after living in home after home since I was five, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used