Stacia’s grin broadened. She walked into the kitchen, barely suppressing laughter. “I’ll make some more coffee.” As she passed him, she punched him in the arm and hissed, “You didn’t tell me your mother was coming for visit, honey.”
“That’s because she didn’t tell me.”
Stacia reached up in the cabinet for the coffee can and he lost his train of thought. His mother tapped him on the arm. “I taught you better than that, young man.”
“You also taught me to call before dropping in.” He glared at her. “Did you think to pick up the phone?”
“And why should an old woman like me have to call her son? You should be calling me daily, checking in, making sure I’m not lying dead in my kitchen. I live alone, you know. The only thing I ask is for my only son to call me once in a while. Instead, I have to haul these old bones down here from New Jersey to see him.”
He rolled his eyes, and shook his head. “Give me a break, Mom. I just got here and have been trying to get up to speed. Besides, you have a houseful of girls living with you, all with babies on the way. You have no time for me.”
He tried to ignore the familiar spike of irritation at the thought of her girls, as she called them. Girls who always came first in her mind, taking all of her attention, money and focus. Except for the few times she decided her son needed her.
“Girls?” Stacia asked, leaning against the counter watching the coffee percolate.
“Mom takes in pregnant girls from the neighborhood who have nowhere to go. She helps them find adopted parents for the kids or start on their own.”
Stacia stared at his mother, the glimmer of admiration in her eyes. “Wow, that’s amazing.”
“Not really, dear.” His mother waved her hand, dismissing the compliment. “I know what it’s like to be pregnant and alone. And you.” She poked her finger hard into Jason’s chest. “How hard is it to hit a damn ball or catch it? Look at this place. You’ve barely settled in. You’re not even unpacked and there’s nothing to feed this poor girl. Where did I go wrong in raising you?”
He rolled his eyes at the same old litany. At least she wasn’t whining about grandchildren. This time. The coffee was taking too long and he was desperate. He snatched the cup out of Stacia’s hand.
“Hey!”
“It’s your second cup.”
“You don’t know that.” He arched an eyebrow. She huffed. “Fine, but you didn’t have to be so rude.”
“I didn’t raise my boy to be like that, Stacia. I don’t know where he got that from. His father probably.” The thread of old bitterness weaved into his mother’s tone.
Jason shot a glare at his mother, then grabbed Stacia around the waist and planted a kiss on her lips. “Happy now?” He sauntered across the kitchen and flopped into a chair next to his mom, grabbed a Danish from a plate, and smiled smugly while Stacia stood bemused by the coffee maker. A sharp rap across the head jarred him out of his amusement. “Ow.” He rubbed his head and glared at his mother.
“Be nice to that young lady. She’s too good for you.”
“You know, most mothers support their kids not someone else.”
“I’m not most mothers.” She frowned at him. “Look at her. She’s a decent young lady, no tattoos, weird-colored hair or odd things pierced. You’ve done worse.”
“Don’t I know it.” He faced his mother fully. She never left New Jersey on a whim. She had a motive for coming down here. Time to get to the bottom of the issue. “So, Mom, why are you here?”
“A mother can’t visit her son?”
He arched a look at her while Stacia smothered a laugh in the kitchen.
“Fine.” She huffed. “I wanted to check out this woman, make sure she isn’t taking advantage of you like the last slut.” She turned and glanced at Stacia, her tone turning into the honey badger protecting her baby boy. “I assume you’re not trying to trap my boy with a baby, right? I’ll never let him throw away his life on someone like that.”
Heat flooded his face. “Okay, Mom. That’s enough. I can take care of myself. Besides, she’s helping with my image. And how did you know about her?”
“In your bed? From what I hear, your image in the bedroom is perfectly fine, if a bit exaggerated.” She perched in a chair and sipped her coffee. “Besides, it was in the paper. Jason Friar caught at last was the headline I think.”
“Exaggerated?” He shot straight up in his chair, then glanced slyly at Stacia. “Stacia can attest that it’s not.”
Stacia flushed and turned away, muttering something under her breath.
“What was that, Stacia?”
She whirled, red color blooming on her face, heat in her eyes. “Maybe a bit of exaggeration.”