Mockingbird (A Stepbrother Romance #2)(42)

She comes back with plain old lemonade in a glass and I down half of it at once. It's actually pretty good.

"Tell me what happened."

I take a deep breath, and I tell her. She nods and listens, and when I'm done she slaps her fist into her other hand.

"That sucks. Where is he? I'll rip his balls off. That'll show him."

"Yeah, please don't. I just want to forget about this."

"Uh, isn't his dad banging your mom?"

I look over at her and wrinkle my nose.

"I mean, are they not in a… uh… relationship?"

"It's not like Mom has never dated before." I shake the lemonade at her. "She'll dump him when he pisses her off. This needs vodka."

"Uh," Charity says, eyeing me. "You… maybe start off with a beer?"

"Just give me some f*cking booze."

"Fine, fine. I'll be right back."

Truth is, I'm not much of a drinker, but the now hardened lemonade goes down easy and after a big gulp I already start to feel a buzz. Over the next ten minutes or so, I drain it and Charity gets another one, and one for herself. I can tell by the color that hers is mostly booze. She can usually handle her liquor. She must have had a lot at that party. By the time she's half done a tall tumblr of mostly vodka, she's a little giggly but that's it.

"Am I f*cking cursed?" I blurt out, and take another drink.

"You got some big brass balls on you, bitching the way you do," Charity snaps.

"What?"

"Listen to yourself. You have trouble with one boyfriend and it's the end of the f*cking world, and the other shit. 'Oh, my mommy won't pay for my underwear when I got to college on a full ride!' You know where I'm going? Community college. To study plumbing. I'm going to be a girl plumber. People are going to make jokes about me for the rest of my life. At least your mom gives a flying f*ck about you. Mine doesn't even know I exist. She lets me do whatever I want. Oh, it's just great! Fucking great! Oh no, the hottest guy in town ate my * like a pro for a week straight, I had too many orgasms, whatever shall I do!"

I just stare at her.

She stares back. "I love you, Diana. Besides my uncle you're the closest thing I have to real family. But it can be tough to be your friend, sometimes. If you want my life and I'll take yours, I'm game. I don't get the guys that are considerate enough not to actually f*ck me before they get bored and move on. My last boyfriend only stayed with me until I took it in the butt. He dumped me the next day. With a text. Hey, hope your butt isn't too sore, see ya later! Except he didn't spell out you. It was just, like, a U."

"You… he… in your butt?"

"He had a needle dick anyway," she takes a long swig. "If prince charming isn't interested anymore, give him my number. I'd trade a little rumpy-pumpy for these amazing oral skills you keep talking about. I could do a week of infatuation before I get dumped. At least I'd get to feel like somebody sees me as more than cheap labor or some moist holes for a few days."

"Jesus, Charity," I blurt out. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Now you're leaving too," she blurts out, then sucks in a breath that turns into a sob. "In a couple of months you'll start school and I'll be all alone here, if I don't get thrown out of the house by the end of the summer."

Stunned, I sit there and listen to her sobbing quietly. What do I do? Is she angry with me?

"Charity?"

"I'm sorry," she chokes out. "I didn't mean it like that. You know I love you, but… Diana, you're beautiful. You and those eyes and your huge rack and everything. When you go to college there will be boys all over you. Real human boys, not towering f*ckbots like Lucas. Lucas will probably get a football scholarship, roid rage and choke out a hooker in his third year, and go to prison. You can do whatever you want. I wish I was you sometimes, that's all."

I grab her hand, and I finish my vodka.

Then my phone rings.

I shouldn't have chugged the second half of the glass. I feel a little, ah, funny.

"Hello?" I slur.

"Diana?"

It's my mother.

Oh.

Uh oh.

"Hi!" I shout, trying to sound calm and normal.

"Where are you? You left all the lights out at the house."

"Oh. Sorry." I seem to have forgotten it was getting dark. "I'm at Charity's house."

"Are you drinking? You sound like you're drinking."

"Who, me? No, I'm just tired and uh, cramping. I have cramps."

"Get back here. We need to talk."

"Uh," I say, glancing at Charity, who is no better shape to drive than I am. "I don't think that's a good idea. I'm really tired. I probably shouldn't drive."

"How much have you had?"

I swallow, hard. "Uh, two lemonades?"

"How much alochol?"

"Uh, two lemonades?" I repeat.

"For Christ's sake, Diana. I'm sending Bob to pick you up. Stay there and try not to walk into a tree."

I hang up on her. Jamming my finger on a button isn't as satisfying as hanging up a real phone, but it will have to do. I shove it in my pocket and Charity grabs me to keep me from tipping right out of the chair.