The Devil Wants Me

tasteful coffee

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Life is ten percent what you experience 

and ninety percent how you respond to it. 

― Dorothy M. Neddermeyer

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C H A P T E R     T W O

She was sitting at the front porch, smoking weed and eating greasy McDonalds fries. Jackson wrinkled his nose and I couldn't help but agree with him. I walked up to the front porch, hoping she wouldn't notice me. But she did.

"Where have you been, love?" She demanded. I gulped and glanced at Jackson. My mother tilted her head and looked at Jackson and smiled. I felt the urge to vomit as she raked her eyes over him. I could tell that he felt disgusted too. I prayed that she wouldn't walk up to him.

"My, my, who is this?" My mother asked lazily.

I have the worst luck. I glanced towards Jackson, who cleared his threat, waiting to be introduced. There's no way I could tell my mom that I wrecked his car so I blurted the one thing that came to mind.

"He's my boss," I covered quickly. Jackson looked quizzically at me and I vigorously shook my head at him, hoping he would realize that I didn't want my mother to know who he was. A smile tugged at his lips and he shook his head a little.

"Yes, I am the owner of the place that Ang-" he started but I quickly interrupted him.

"I work at. He is the boss of El Puréé." I explained to my mom. She looked very doubtful, but slowly nodded.

"And why is your boss here?" My mother asked, directly looking at me. I froze. I hadn't thought of an excuse. Jackson seemed to notice that I was frozen in place and quickly jumped to my rescue.

"We need to discuss statistics and different job opportunities with the families of the employers because El Puréé already has the maximum amount of employees." Jackson filled in. I grinned at Jackson in relief and he shook his head as if he thought I was crazy, which I probably was. I looked back at my mother, but she had gone back to rolling another blunt. My cheeks colored as she spit onto the paper to make the blunt stay together. She was embarrassing me in front of Jackson, but I knew that if I said anything, she'd punish me later.

"May I come in?" Jackson asked, embarrassed. My mother looked up and nodded. I breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door to my house. Thankfully, my mom and her no good boyfriend hadn't trashed our house completely. I cleared some cigarette butts off the sofa as we passed and made my way upstairs. My mother didn't care enough to ever check my room so there was no stink of smoke up there. Jackson breathed in a sigh of relief as I motioned for him to sit on a chair.

"What?" I asked. He sighed as he took in his surroundings.

"Your mother," he started and I flinched. No one ever said anything good about my mother. Jackson looked at me carefully before continuing, "she's very...authentic." He finished. A smile tugged at my lips. Authentic was a nice way to describe it, I guess. Nicer than what other people have said.

"Thanks, I guess." I replied. He nodded. There was an awkward silence. What do you say to the guy who you destroyed the car of? Hi, I'm sorry I'm such a dumbass, you can sell one of my organs to make up for your car? Thankfully, I didn't have to come up with an ice-breaker.