“She does?” His eager smile melted into a grin. “Yeah, I think she does.”
“She might,” I said. “But you should know…”
“Should know what?”
I scrubbed my chin. “I think she’s been burned recently, so take it easy, okay?”
“Did she tell you that, too?”
“No. Just a hunch.”
Connor slapped me in the middle of the back. “Look at you, giving me woman advice. I think your racing wins are going straight to your head.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “That must be it.”
I rummaged through my bag for my phone and found a voice message from Ma sent this morning.
Hey baby boy, I just wanted to wish you luck today at your races. You take all that God-given talent and go kick some ass, okay?
I turned my face away from Connor to conceal a small smile. Miranda Turner had her own way with words.
I heard her puff a cigarette and exhale.
Oh, and did I tell you? Your genius sister, Kimberly, dropped her phone in the toilet. How many times I tell her to get off that damn thing while she’s in the mirror putting on her makeup? Too much makeup, by the way. She’s getting bad skin, but does she listen to me? God forbid. So that’s a few hundred bucks I don’t have. Down the toilet. Literally.
She cackled her loud, infectious laugh, which degenerated into a barking cough.
But honestly, things is tight enough and I know Paul would help but I’m trying not to start down that road already, you know? Oh jeez, I haven’t told you about Paul! I met him at the salon while he was waiting for his sister to get done, and we hit it off. His name is Paul Winfield and he’s not like nobody I been with. Just you wait ‘til you meet him. Come back home, baby, first chance you get, okay? You can meet him and maybe talk some sense into your sister’s empty head.
Love you. Felicia sends her love too. Be good, but not too good, and give that sweet Connor a kiss on the cheek for me, you hear? Okay, love you, baby boy. Bye.
I turned back around, dropped the phone in my bag and hoisted it onto my shoulder. “Sorry. Miranda had some things to say.”
“How is she?”
“Okay,” I said, as we headed off the track. “Money’s tight, as usual. She’s seeing some new guy, as usual.”
“Could be good,” Connor said, scrolling hi
s phone as we walked.
“If he’s like any of her other boyfriends, he’s going to bum what he can off her and she’s got nothing to bum.” I gazed around at the sprawling grounds of Amherst, green and gold in the dusky light, while my mother was cramped in that tiny apartment in Southie. “I should get a job.”
“You have no time for a job. That’s why you have a scholarship.”
“I could squeeze it in,” I said, mentally trying to figure out where. Hoping for an early graduation, I’d loaded up my schedule with as many classes as my counselor would let me take. Between course work and track, my days were packed. “I could work a nightshift somewhere.”
“And be too tired to study or run,” Connor said, putting his phone away. “Dude, why not try for the big show? The Olympics? You’re so fucking fast. You’d get in, easy.”
“Because training for the Olympics isn’t cheap and it’s a full-time job. I’d need a coach. And there’re no guarantees. One snapped ligament and my career is over. I wouldn’t be any good to Ma.”
“My parents are always there, you know,” Connor said in a low voice.
I swallowed down the bitterness, because I knew. “Anyway, Ma wants me to come to Boston and meet this new guy, Paul, but I’m not in a fucking hurry to meet the latest bum who’s probably leeching off her, just like every other guy she hooks up with.”
“If they’re still together at Thanksgiving, you can meet him then.”
“That works.”