by Dee Burks
She’d picked Friday as designated date night. Nolea and Will agreed to accompany her as chaperones and keep watch at a distance. Distance was the key word. They had to believe she was really serious about this, not that they wouldn’t be on her side if she told them what she was up to. All single people hated blind dates. Neither one of them had any ability to keep a secret, and if her uncle caught wind of the charade, it would be off. Then Aunt Macy would be back on again, hounding her to find a good man.
The rolled up T-shirt on the coffee table kept attracting her attention. Justin entered the house every day dropping clothes, papers, shoes, whatever in a trail as he went. She walked over and picked up the shirt, an odd sock stuffed in the side of the couch, and a Rangers cap hooked on the lamp, intending to deposit them on his bed. She swung open his door and paused.
The place was a pigsty, and she’d had enough of nagging him to clean it. Besides, the ad to rent out the extra room started running today, and she would be horrified for someone to get a glimpse, or a whiff, of her son’s living habits.
Serena used her feet to scoot laundry into the center of the room, having no idea if it was dirty or clean. She held one shirt to her nose and quickly jerked it away again. Definitely dirty. In fact, it could almost walk to the washer on its own. Trying to hold her breath, she hefted a huge pile of clothing off the floor.
Boxer shorts tumbled from the pile. She shifted the load and bent down to grab them. The phone rang just as she stood. Serena grimaced and dropped the laundry, picking up the handset off her son’s desk.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” a deep voice said. “Is this Serena?”
“Yes.”
The man cleared his throat. “This is Tyler.” He waited a moment for her to respond. “You know. The ad.”
“Oh, well, the room is 12 by 14 and has plenty of windows.” She shuffled the stack of school papers and books on Justin’s desk, looking for a pencil and something to write on. “You’d have your own private bath, and the house has a security system.” She yanked open the side drawer and found a pen. “Where do you work, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Um. I really didn’t expect to move quite this fast. What kind of thing did you have in mind?”
The laughter in his voice immediately pricked her temper. “Well obviously not the kind of thing you have in mind, mister. You know I really don’t appreciate prank calls.”
“Hey now, you called me first, and you’re the one offering a sleepover,” he chuckled. “By the way, is a continental breakfast included?”
“I did not call you first. I don’t have any clue who you are, and I am not about to stand here and…” She threw the pen back in the drawer. It bounced off a small blue box. She frowned and picked it up. Two words riveted her attention.
Lubricated Condoms.
“You answered my ad.”
Serena ignored him and stared at the box in horror. How long had Justin been using these? And with whom? She flipped open the top and counted. Six left out of? She squinted at the box. Twelve? A vision passed through her mind of herself a year from now, wearing an ugly burp-stained shirt bearing the word grandma while pushing a stroller down the sidewalk.
“Hello? Are you still there?”
“Uh. Yeah.”
“You answered my ad. Said you were interested in coffee or something. Is this the something?” He was still laughing.
“Oh, that ad.” Heat flamed her checks. “Um, I’m sorry. I have an ad running to rent out an extra room.”
“So are we on for drinks or whatever?”
“Drinks, yes. Whatever, no. How about Friday at 7:30?” Serena stared at the blue box again. She’d have to confront Justin and figure out what exactly he’d been up to or who he’d been up to. The thought made her stomach churn. Did he not realize how easily his life could be turned upside down by one careless moment? Or one broken condom? She would certainly fill him in on that one. Not to mention the fact that he could catch something that could endanger his health.
“Tomorrow? Fine by me. Where would you like to go?”
“How about Chuck’s over on Condom Street?”
“Condom Street?” He laughed. “I hate to admit it, but I’m not really familiar.”
“Camden Street.” Serena gritted her teeth, grateful he couldn’t see how red her checks had turned.
“Oh, of course. So it’s Friday at 7:30 at Chuck’s?”
“Yeah.”
“How will I know you?”
“Red hair, medium length, green eyes, black business suit.”
“Sounds like you’ve done this before.”
“Actually, it’s a first for me.” And hopefully a last.
“Uh huh.” He didn’t sound convinced. “See you there.”
She set the handset back on the base, put the box back down and slowly shut the desk drawer. What to do?
Her first instinct was to demand to know what was going on, but she knew that was futile. Justin inherited her stubbornness and independent attitude, which was good most of the time. But it produced a lengthy silent treatment when she demanded information or cooperation. A gentle persuasive technique worked best, but unfortunately she lacked the skill or patience to use it effectively.
She’d have to figure out how to go about getting him to talk. Something like this could change his whole life. And not for the better. The front door opened, and Serena spun around grabbing the pile of laundry. Justin met her at his door.
He dropped his backpack on the floor with a thud, and nodded at the clothes. “So what’s that?”
“I’m doing your laundry.”
“You’re doing my laundry? What’s the occasion?”
“I ran the ad to rent out the spare room.”
“I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to start cooking too.” He made a face.
“Very funny. Why don’t you clean the rest of that mess?” She started down the hall.
“I’ll consider that.” He yelled. “I’m a busy man, you know.”
Busy? The word took on a whole new meaning today. Serena stuffed Justin’s clothes in the washer and dumped laundry detergent on top. He appeared in the doorway of the laundry room. “Are you sure you’re doing that right?”
She glared at him and dumped in more detergent. “I’m not totally without homemaking skills. Who do you think kept you in clean diapers when you were little?”
“Weren’t they disposable?”
She arched a brow at him and motioned to the papers in his hand. “What’s that?”
Justin followed her to the kitchen. “I went by and picked up that financial aid stuff.” He shuffled through the stack. “Lots of paperwork.”
“I remember. We’ll get started on it this evening.”
“Kind of early don’t you think?”
“It’s April. You can never be too early with college forms, especially the ones for the grants. They are slower than Christmas.”
“There’s a whole section that has to be filled out by the non-custodial parent.” He flipped through papers. “Tax returns, contact info, lots of stuff.” He paused, but she said nothing. “How are we going to handle that?”
“Same as always. You only have one parent. They’ll have to be satisfied with that.”
“I told the lady at the Financial Aid office that. She said no way. They have to have it filled out to prove he isn’t hiding money that can be used for school.”
“They can’t do that.”
“They can. She also said that if it’s because he’s in prison or something, they still need official documentation. She said if they don’t get it, they can refuse to accept the financial aid application.”
Serena took the papers from him and glanced though them as pinpricks of panic stung her neck. “Hmm. I’ll think of something.” Financial Aid had been part of her plan for his college education from the start. It had been there to help her, and she didn’t have enough to plop down cash for one of the better schools.
>
“What’s the big deal? It’s not like I even care at this point. Why can’t we just tell them who he is?”
“It’s nobody’s business but ours, Justin.”
“Well if it’s our business, then why won’t you at least tell me?”
Serena hesitated. He had every right to know, and she had every reason to keep it from him. Although given the evidence in his room, it might put a halt to his extracurricular activities.
“I know. I’ll guess.” He wiggled his brows with a half grin. “You were one of the original artificial insemination guinea pigs?”
“No.”
“You adopted me from a band of roving gypsies?”
She laughed. “No.”
Justin half smiled and lowered his voice. “So, am I Mick Jagger’s love child?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You can’t fool me, you know. I’ve seen you wander home in the middle of the night with your pantyhose stuffed in your purse.”
“Justin!”
“Well, I have. I bet you were one of those groupie chicks that chased the roadies, right?”
“I wish. At least Mick could help pay for college.”
Justin picked up his keys. “I gotta get to work.” He started for the door then turned around. “You’re gonna have to deal with this sooner or later, Mom. It makes me no difference, whoever he is. It’s not like I’m gonna run off and try to find him or anything, you know.”
She nodded. “I know.” And she did. Justin had never even hinted that he wanted to be anywhere else. Most parents weren’t so lucky. He was a great kid.
“I mean unless he can do laundry and cook, now that would be something worth looking in to.”
“Go already!” Serena smiled.
She went to the window and watched his truck pull out of the drive. She’d done all she could for him, but he deserved better. Better than her. And better than the truth. Serena walked over to the large rolltop desk and ran her fingers along the top edge. It had been her grandmother’s and had occupied a prominent location in every home they had lived in since Justin was born.
The desk reminded Serena of family, of home, of secrets best left hidden. She took the key chain from her pocket and unlocked the top drawer. It only had the one key, and she kept it with her at all times. She pulled open one of the tiny drawers reveling a small silver cross encrusted with green and red stones.
It pulled her mind back to a sweet childhood, before her dad died, before she got pregnant, before she was sent away. Anger and resentment rose in her chest as she flipped the piece over and rubbed a finger across the inscription. She’d been told it was an old Gaelic saying, but she couldn’t remember what her father told her it said. Something about the heart. It didn’t matter. She’d worked hard to change her life, correct mistakes, provide a better life for her son, and she’d succeeded. But it didn’t take away the hurt or make up for all she’d suffered. She tossed the necklace back in its drawer and pulled out a file labeled Baby Boy Finley.
Adoption? Artificial insemination? Those would be easy to explain compared to this. She stared at the birth certificate. Two little footprints on either side of the name, Justin Lee Finley, 7 pounds, 8 ounces. The fancy scrolled writing listed mother on the left and directly below that, her name, Serena Lee Finley. More scrolled writing occupied the right side announcing father and directly below that the space appeared exactly as it had that morning more than 18 years ago.
Completely and totally blank.
Chapter 4
Serena leaned toward her bathroom mirror and applied more lipstick. Only 20 minutes until her first “date” of the evening, and while she had no intention of trying too hard for this farce, she still wanted to look good. Brushing the front of her business suit with her palms, she glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Not bad. The black skirt grazed her knees and the heels weren’t too high. Nothing remotely suggestive about this outfit, which made it perfect. This was business after all, just business. She heard a key in the front door. “Justin?”
“Yeah?”
The faint sound of cereal hitting a bowl drew her to the kitchen. She stared as he filled one of her large mixing bowls with fruit rings and topped it off with a half gallon of milk.
Justin carefully picked up the bowl and met her gaze. “What?”
“Don’t you work at a restaurant?”
“Yeah.”
“You should eat there.”
“I did. This is a snack.”
Serena groaned. The boy was a bottomless pit. She grabbed her purse off the table.
“I was thinking about applying for a second job when school gets out,” Justin mumbled. “A day job.” He shoveled cereal in his mouth and let the milk drip off his chin back into the bowl.
Serena raised an eyebrow. Hard to believe he was about to be unleashed on the world as an adult. She handed him a paper towel. “That will be a lot of hours. Do you think you can handle it?”
“’Course.”
“I mean it won’t leave much time for friends or whatever.” Whatever being uppermost on her mind. Not that she wanted to push him into working himself to death, but it sure would keep him busy.
He shrugged. “Not much going on anyway.”
Serena hesitated a moment. This might be her chance. “You mean there are no hot women after you these days?”
“Oh sure, but I can fit them into my schedule.”
Not the answer she had hoped for. “So who are you fitting in? Someone I know? You didn’t say anything about going to the prom.”
“Prom? Why would I spend money on that kind of crap?”
“So who is she?”
“Who is who?”
“The girl?”
“What girl?”
Serena glared. She had no patience for this. “The girl you’re so hot and heavy with?”
“Gee. Hot and heavy? I don’t know, but if you figure it out get her number for me.”
His teasing smart-aleck expression irritated her beyond belief. She picked up the roll of paper towels and took aim at him. It was tempting, but it wouldn’t get him to talk. Especially about anything important. He always tried to be funny when she needed to be serious. And the subject of sex at his age was very serious. She set the roll back on the counter and opted to pop him on the arm as she headed for the door. She’d have to try again later.
He laughed. “I’m cute when you’re angry.”
She slammed the front door and got into her car, catching sight of her red cheeks in the rearview mirror. Not exactly a great frame of mind to start the evening. Of course, she would be faking her love life tonight while her son was off somewhere not faking his.
Serena arrived at Chuck’s five minutes late. Nolea and Will were already in position at the bar. Scanning the few occupants, she walked over to her chaperones carefully avoiding the peanut shells scattered on the floor. While Chuck’s exuded the typical western theme, at least no dead animal heads were perched on the walls, and drinks were cheap.
“Thought you’d wimp out.” Will slugged down a beer.
“You thought wrong.” Serena climbed onto a bar stool.
Nolea craned her neck to see everyone else seated at the bar. “So who is the first guy? What should we look for?”
“His name’s Bill something or another, and he’s in his fifties.” Serena searched for the notepad in her purse.
Will snorted. “Look for the motorized wheelchair and oxygen tank.”
“Very funny.” Her notes were difficult to read in the dim light. “Don’t forget you two are supposed to rescue me if things get scary.”
“Define scary.”
Nolea nudged Serena’s arm. “Ooh. White hair at twelve o’clock.”
A man strode in Serena’s direction. Six feet tall, stocky, dressed in a sport coat. Not bad for his age. His hair was totally white, but at least he still had it.
The man walked up to her and smiled. “You would
n’t be Serena, would you?”
“Yes, and you’re Bill?”
He nodded and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.” His gaze passed over Will and settled on Nolea.
Appreciation lit his eyes as he took in her long curly hair, and scanned the full length of Nolea’s shapely legs and dangerously high heels. Good. A roving eye is a great excuse to get rid of this one. Nolea gave him a wave and he grinned.
Serena suppressed a smile. The woman couldn’t help herself. Nolea loved men and attention, which worked perfectly for Serena. No danger of anyone falling for her with this kind of distraction around. Will thumped Nolea’s fingers, and Serena cleared her throat, once again capturing Bill’s attention. “Why don’t we find a table?”
Bill nodded and followed her across the bar. Serena chose a table for two and took the seat with her back to the bar, giving Bill a full view of Nolea. The waitress placed menus in front of them.
“I’m not really hungry.” Serena handed the menu back to the girl and looked at Bill. “I thought we might have a drink and see how things go. Is that all right with you?”
He grinned. “Suits me just fine.”
“Great. I’ll have a margarita on the rocks.”
“And I’ll have tequila. Straight up. A double.”
A double? Either this guy was incredibly nervous or an alcoholic. “So, Bill. What made you place an ad?”
“Oh, you know, seeing what’s out there.” He shrugged. “What made you answer it?”
“You sounded like a nice guy. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m in sales.”
“What kind of sales?”
“A little bit of everything.”
Uh oh. A car salesman. They were always evasive.
The waitress set their drinks down, and Bill took a huge gulp. “What line of work are you in?”
