The Man Who Has No Sight - Victoria Quinn Page 0,12
wine with a straight posture. “Not at all. It’s been—”
“She lives with you?” Valerie’s loud voice practically came out as a shriek.
Everyone turned to her.
Why did I think we could have a nice Thanksgiving together with no hiccups?
Cleo was quiet, unsure what to say.
“This woman barely knows you, and she’s living with you?” Valerie continued. “Isn’t it obvious that she’s a gold digger? She’s the help that assists everyone in the building, and you think—”
“Valerie.” I did not want to have this hysterical conversation in front of my family—and Derek. I kept my voice calm so she would match me. “Cleo lost her job and her apartment. She needed a place to stay until she got back on her feet. I offered to let her stay with me in the meantime.” I left out the part where it was entirely Valerie’s goddamn fault it happened in the first place.
Valerie grew quiet, but her chest rose and fell deeply, like she was confining her anger to her lungs.
My mom wore her expressions like words on a page—and she looked pissed.
Tucker just looked awkward, staring at the floor like he had no idea what else to do.
Cleo was still, like she hoped she could just fade into the background.
Derek adopted his usual attitude when we fought, trying to be as small as possible until it stopped.
Mom set down her drink. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak to my son that way.”
Oh fuck. “Mom—”
She got to her feet and pointed at Valerie. “You don’t own my son. He’s free to do whatever he wishes, move in with anyone he wants, and it’s really none of your business. Cleo is absolutely wonderful, and he could marry her tomorrow and we would all be thrilled. Who are you to talk down about her position when you didn’t have a penny to your name before my son came along and fell into your trap? All the nice things you have are from my son’s hard work. You did nothing to earn it—except lie on your back.”
Jesus Christ. “Mom.” I got to my feet and moved in front of her. “Enough, alright?”
Tucker covered his mouth with his hands, like he was trying to cover his smile.
Valerie got to her feet. “Derek, let’s go.”
He stayed on the couch next to Cleo. “I don’t wanna…”
She snatched him by the wrist and pulled him off the couch.
I was on her so fucking fast. “Don’t. Do. That. Again.” I put myself between her and Derek, not allowing her to drag him any farther across the couch and the floor like some kind of rag doll. She didn’t strike him or slap him, but her behavior was inappropriate. I wouldn’t tolerate it.
She knew I didn’t get angry like this often, so she didn’t challenge me.
“Derek stays here for the weekend,” my mother said. “You can go, Valerie.”
“Don’t tell me what I can do with my son, bitch,” Valerie screeched. “I can make sure your son never sees him again. That goes for you too.”
“Really?” Cleo asked, getting to her feet, her phone in her hand. “Because I just recorded the entire outburst on my phone…and you look a little unstable.” She held it up and replayed it, getting the shot of Valerie dragging her son across the floor, of me stepping in and defending him.
Valerie had never looked so pissed. She clearly didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to handle the loss of power she’d just experienced. All her leverage was gone with the snap of a finger. She could tell the judge about my drinking problem, but there was no video footage, and this moment made Valerie look a million times worse than I ever would.
She moved to the door and walked out.
Mom went after her into the hallway. “That’s what I thought, bitch.” She stormed back into my condo and slammed the door.
Tucker got to his feet and burst into hysterical laughter. “Holy fucking shit…that was awesome.”
I didn’t even care about the cussing at this point. There was so much of it.
“Mom…you’re a badass.” Tucker gave her shoulder a squeeze.
“Thank you, honey,” Mom said proudly. “Those mama bear instincts never go away.”
Cleo was the only one who understood I wouldn’t be relieved, that I didn’t want this to happen, especially in front of Derek. She moved to me, giving me a sad look as she rubbed my arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why?” Tucker asked. “You got concrete evidence that she’s a bitch—”