Okay. She was smarter than Eddie had been.
I opened the first drawer. At the sight of her panties, I couldn’t help but frown. I did feel a bit like a pervert as I detailed her underwear. Except for a red thong, which seemed to be an anomaly, it was all white cotton briefs with flowers or other childish designs on them - not what I’d expected for a hooker.
“What are you doing in my room?”
I froze for a second at the voice before turning around, my nostrils flaring in anger, showing her what I’d found. She was even more of a conniving bitch than I’d thought.
“It’s my house. Nothing here is yours - especially not this!” I barked, nudging the gold bracelet wrapped around my forefinger. “Where did you find this? Did you break into my mother’s room?”
She tightened her hold around the child. “I’ve not been anywhere in this house except for this room and the kitchen. That bracelet is mine.” She jerked her chin toward me in defiance.
I took a threatening step toward her, growling. How fucking stupid did she think I was?
“You’re going to tell me you bought this? I dare you to fucking lie.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Eddie gave it to me as a present for-” She stopped again. “He gave it to me over a year ago.”
“He didn’t!” Eddie wouldn’t have taken something from my mother. He knew how defensive I was about all of her belongings. He would not have been that reckless, especially not by giving it to someone he knew would sell it.
“Yes, he did!” She insisted. I couldn’t see any deception on her face.
“Why hide it then?” I challenged. “If you had nothing to hide, then why keep it under your underwear.”
“Because I know the opinion you have of me. Because I knew your reaction would be something like what it just was and because I knew you wouldn’t believe me. I’m just a cheap whore, aren't I? With no conscience or morals. But even when I was starving, even when I had to sell my own clothes to feed Timmy, I kept it.” She pointed an accusing finger at me. “I knew how much it meant to Eddie. I knew what it meant to him, giving it to me. I. Didn’t. Steal. It.”
She looked at it with longing, she clearly cared for it. Sighing, she looked down at the child. “Take it back if you want. I guess Eddie didn’t have the right to take it anyway.” Shaking her head, she walked to the connecting door into the nursery.
She stayed there for a few minutes. Whilst my instinct told me to take the bracelet back and leave the room, I waited for her, uncertain as to why.
Part of me wanted to know her, to find the chink in her carefully erected armor but she could not win, not against me. She had the drugs. I knew she did. Both the druggie and my man had told me she’d taken it.
I looked around her room again, still standing in front of the dresser. I could still look if I wanted to. It was not like I owed her any respect. And it was not like she could go anywhere.
She came back, surprised to still find me here.
She looked down longingly at the bracelet still in my hand.
“This was one of my mother’s favorite pieces of jewelry,” I told her, unsure as to why. She didn’t deserve any explanation. I revisited the memory of my mother, the burning pain mixed with anger burned my lungs and turned everything inside out.
“It’s a very lovely bracelet,” she replied gently. I didn't deserve that tone, not after the way I’d treated her.
I lifted it up to eye level, dangling the bracelet on my forefinger. This was one of the cheapest pieces she’d owned. Using my thumb, I gently brushed the delicate cold gold band. I looked down at the three dangling charms: the butterfly, the heart, and the anchor.
The anchor - her family. That had not been enough for her to stay. “It’s not worth much,” I said, keeping my eyes on the bracelet.
“It was worth a lot to Eddie. He cared for it very much.”
“And he gave it to you?” I couldn’t help but comment.
She winced, but for once I was not even trying to be mean. I just knew how drug addicts sold everything. I was also still surprised that he’d managed to take it from our mother’s room.
I sighed, putting it back on her dresser. If she hadn’t sold it by now, she would not sell it. And if she did, so what? Your mother didn’t love you enough to stay, so why should you care?
I sighed, jerking my head toward the book on her nightstand. “You like to read?”
She detailed me, all tensed, her lips pursed.
“What? Is the question that difficult to answer?” I was trying here, but she was irritating me again.
“No, I'm just waiting for the punchline,” She replied, trying to sound detached but there was hurt in her voice.
“Punchline?” What the hell did she mean?
She shrugged. “You know, maybe, why do girls like me need to know how to read? Kamasutra is a picture book, but that’s not painful enough. Come on, give me your best.”
I stared at her angrily. She was really getting on my last nerve.
“Come,” I barked. Turning around, I headed for the south corridor. That was my side of the house, a part that had purposely not been shown to her. I was not even sure why I was taking her there now.
“Where are we going?” The uncertainty in her voice made me roll my eyes. She lived in the worst area of the city, used to have sex with strangers and she was afraid of me? Ludicrous.
“Well, I’ve been thinking. You must be a bit bored since you can’t fuck on an hourly basis...” I trailed off coldly. I was just trying to be civil to her, why was she questioning me.
She remained silent as we stopped in front of two heavy wooden doors. I was slightly disappointed that she hadn’t taken the bait. She gripped the baby monitor closer to her chest. I hadn’t even thought about the child, but she had. She always did.
“So I thought we may as well occupy you in a more...productive way.”
She was about to answer when I opened the door. Anything she might have said died in her mouth.
She walked in with an awed look on her face, her mouth slightly ajar.
“This is unbelievable!” she gasped, swirling around slowly, craning her neck to see the many shelves full of books. They ran floor-to-ceiling and against every wall.
“It’s like stepping into The Beauty and the Beast!” When she beamed, I was taken aback by her smile. The freshness of her face without her permanent wariness. She looked so young, so innocent, especially dressed in her faded blue jeans, checkered shirt, and red converses. She looked like a sweet young girl.
I started to smile too before remembering who she really was - the addicted, manipulative, vindictive hooker who’d driven my brother to an early grave.
I guess the fresh youth look was quite a big seller in her circle.
“You’ve got two libraries?” she asked, turning her back to me, as she inspected the shelves closer to her. She ran her forefinger along the spine of each book.
I looked at her finger going down softly, as if she was caressing the books and I could almost feel her on my skin. I was startled at the thought and angry too that she could entice these types of thoughts in me. She was sleeping with literally everyone. It'll be a cold day in Hell before I stuck my shaft into her overused cunt.