and chaos of the universe. And when my phone rang as I started my car, I knew it was chaos and not some celestial force.
“What’s up, Ma?” No matter how many times I tried to think of her as Cheryl, I couldn’t help but call her Mom.
She coughed for a good fifteen seconds before she was able to form actual words. “Is that any way to greet your mama?”
I rolled my eyes and started driving because I knew this call would require a face to face visit. “Does that mean you’re just calling to check in? To see how I’m doing?”
“You’re fine,” she said. “You’re always fine.” Which meant she was about to tell me all the ways she wasn’t fine and how I could fix it.
“You planning on fighting again? I got some friends who could make some good money betting on you.”
Yeah, I bet she did. It was another reason I was happy to work as a trainer. Between the Ashby family and my biological family, there were too many strings attached to me stepping into the ring again. And I wasn’t willing to get my brains scrambled again for any of it.
“I’m outside,” I told her.
The three-story apartment building Cheryl lived in looked about as rundown as they came, but according to her, she preferred to stay with her own kind, so I kept my mouth shut.
She stepped out onto the balcony and waved. “Come on up, then.”
“Let me in,” I called. The buzzer released the front door to the lobby and I made my way up to the second-floor apartment and took in the sight of my mother. She was thin, too thin for my liking, probably about a buck five if I had to guess. Her dark hair was bleached blonde everywhere but the roots and her pale skin showed signs of acne and faded bruises, or what I called her fresh from County look.
“How long have you been out?”
She shrugged and scratched her forearm. “A few days. Why?”
“Just curious.” It usually took a week for her to remember she had a kid, unless, of course, she needed something. Usually money.
“You been taking in anything other than booze since you got out?”
She had that emaciated look that told me she was back on the hard drugs.
“I’m just drinking, I swear.”
Those pleading brown eyes were as full of shit as they always were, and I just sighed because I’d given up praying or hoping that she might change. Might get clean one of these days. I had a better chance at becoming President.
“I am, and I don’t need you giving me shit, Emmett. Always thinkin’ you’re better than me. Remember where you came from.”
Fuck. Here we go again. She was so damn bitter that Sadie had taken me in and given me direction in life, making it so she couldn’t use me to score drugs, make money.
“Is that why you called, Ma? To insult me?”
Cheryl flashed a smile that was almost reminiscent of the woman I’d seen glimpses of in my childhood, when she was sober, but it fell short because that woman no longer existed.
“You were always so sensitive, Emmett.”
As if she ever knew me or bothered to try.
“Well? What do you want this time?”
Her smile faded, and she patted a hand over her hair, a coquettish move that probably worked on dealers willing to accept currency other than cash for payment.
“I need some money, sweetheart.”
And there it was, the real reason for her call.
“Cheryl, your rent is paid and the fridge is full. I make sure of that. Every goddamn month.”
She’d shit a brick if she knew the Ashbys had been taking care of her for years. Colm insisted before he died.
“So you won’t give me a bit of spending money?”
“No.”
“What the fuck, Emmett? That old bitch has you so twisted up you’d leave your poor mother to fend for herself?”
I laughed in her face at that. “You have a place to stay and food to eat, thanks to me. But still, that’s not good enough for you. Take care of yourself, Cheryl.”
She sucked in a deep breath, her face growing redder by the second. “You ungrateful little shit! After all I’ve done—”
“Leave me to fend for myself when I was just a kid? Yeah, it doesn’t feel so good, does it? Try getting a job if you need more than food and shelter.”
Her eyes narrowed and her mouth screwed up into an ugly sneer. “I hate you! I fucking hate you and that