Her face contorts. “We’ll see who has the last laugh in the end.”
She walks inside, and I drive home wondering what she’s talking about.
NINE
YOU left me,” Tracker says in annoyance when I open my door the next morning.
“Ummm, Tracker can we do this later?” I lower my voice. “My mom is here!”
“Good,” he says. “I can finally meet her.”
I shake my head frantically. “No, no, no—”
“Lana?” my mom calls out, walking to the door. “You must be Tracker.”
He holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I can see where Lana gets her beauty from.”
I roll my eyes. Yes, my mom is beautiful, but that is the oldest line in the book.
“Come in, Tracker,” she says, then turns to me. “Where are your manners, Lana? Invite him inside.”
“Thank you,” Tracker says politely, then flashes me a smirk. “So you’ve been talking about me, have you?”
Mom laughs softly. “She’s mentioned you a few times, yes. Can I get you something to drink? My name is Nicole, by the way.”
“Lovely name,” Tracker replies. “I’d love some water, if you don’t mind.”
“No problem, have a seat.”
Grabbing my hand, he leads me to the couch where we sat last time.
“Your mom is a babe,” he whispers. “Now I know how you’re gonna look when you’re older.”
I purse my lips. “She’s going to annoy me and ask me about you every day now!”
He kisses my palm. “Good, then you’ll never forget me.”
I expel a sigh. “You’re something else, you know that?”
His mouth twitches. “Saturday night we’re having a party. Men from the other Wind Dragon chapters will be coming, their old ladies. That sort of thing. Do you wanna come?”
I shift in my seat. “Ummm. Will Anna be there?”
He nods. “Yeah, they’ll all be there.”
“All right then, I’ll come.”
“Good,” he replies.
My mom returns with water and iced tea, then sits down with us and starts to ask Tracker questions.
“So what do you do for a living, Tracker?”
I look at him and wait for his answer.
“I’m a part owner of a bar called Rift. You might have heard of it. I also part own a motorcycle repair shop.”
He clears his throat. “And a few other businesses.”
Yeah, like Toxic, the local strip club.
“What other businesses?” I ask innocently, keeping a straight face.
“Oh, you know, this and that,” he replies vaguely, shooting me a look that clearly says Be quiet.
“That’s wonderful,” my mom beams. “Especially for someone so young. You’re in your midtwenties right? Same as Lana.”
Tracker nods. “Yes, I am.”
“How lovely,” my mom says, taking a sip of her tea. “Lana never brings boys to the house. In fact, you’re the first one, so you must be someone special.”
I cringe.
Did she have to let that one slip?
“I didn’t exactly bring him here,” I point out.
My mom waves her hand. “Semantics. Well, I have to get to the hospital for my shift. You two have fun.”
She kisses my cheek, then does the same to Tracker before leaving.
Leaning back on the couch, he grins. “She loves me.”
“At least someone does,” I mutter, making him laugh. “You never talk about your parents. Do you have siblings?”
“My dad died a couple years back. My mom’s remarried and lives overseas,” he says. “No brothers or sisters.”
“Sorry to hear about your dad,” I say.
“What about your dad?” he asks, eyes steady on me.
I shrug, looking away. “I don’t have a father.”
Okay, I have a father; I just don’t have any contact with him. Seeing as he’s absent, I feel no need to give him any significance. Or even admit his existence.
“I mean, we don’t talk,” I add. “He’s never been in my life.”
“His loss,” Tracker says quickly. “Your mom did an amazing job raising you on her own.”
I duck my head. “Thanks.”
“You wanna change out of yet another fuckin’ cute pair of pajamas and spend the day with me?”
I look down at my pink shorts and matching top. They were covered in red cherries. “I have work, remember?”
He flashes me a slow spreading smile. “You have the day off. Jess is watching Clover.”
“You got me the day off?” I ask, surprised.
“Yep,” he says, smirking. “Faye loves me. She said it’s no problem.”
The sneaky man. “What did you have in mind?”
“A long ride. Lunch. A swim at the beach,” he suggests. “Who fuckin’ knows where we’ll end up?”
I smile. “All right.”
“Good,” he says in a gentler tone. “Now give me a kiss and go get ready.”
I do as the man says.
* * *
“So are you and Tracker dating?” Anna asks as she paints her toenails black. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Lana.”
“I know,” I whisper, looking down at my own red toenails. “I didn’t want to give him the chance to hurt me but, he’s . . . you know.”