Chapter Twenty-Six - Bocconcini Backslide

"WHAT IS THIS?" The second the door opens my mother sweeps in like a hurricane. Her violent path tears through the mess of trash left from the day until it catches in her churning wake. Fires burn in her eyes, sparks casting from her fingertips as she stops before me. A beam of utter disappointment slices through me and I clasp a hand to my heart.

"Violette Aria Reely." Every syllable of my full name strikes faster and harder than a blast of machine gun fire. Her ire tears through me, my mother crossing her arms to drive the final nail in.

"Ma-ma-mom," I stutter up at her, my body shrinking until I'm two feet tall. "How are you here?" It's my worst nightmare. Spiders tap-dancing in pudding would be a more welcomed sight than my mother here while my four half-naked lovers stand behind me.

My mom flutters a Kleenex from her purse. She dots her eyes to clear away tears. "I haven't heard from you in forever. You never answer your phone. I thought you were dead!"

"We talked last night," I whisper.

She blows her nose loudly, then gives a soft cough. "I was beside myself not knowing if you were bleeding to death in the gutter. The police were no help. They dared to tell me they couldn't get you to call me. Why do I even pay taxes?" She scoffs at the idea of law enforcement not being able to force adult children to contact their parents. "I had to hop on a plane to get to you ASAP. Even if the pressure was torture on me." She lays a hand on her forehead and tosses her head back in a faint.

"Here." I grab one of the display crates, shove off the cheese, and hold it out for her. "You can sit on this."

My mom cracks an eye and peers at me. "It's filthy. Don't you have a chair?"

"Um…" I spin around until I'm dizzy hunting for a chair I know isn't here.

"There's the toilet."

Oh, no. My mother's face retracts from a pained swoon to snarling rage at Cam's offhand and clearly sarcastic remark. I wave my hand to get him to stop, but he can't see me.

"It's the best throne in the place," Cam says with a laugh.

She must have been so focused on me that she missed the four men standing behind the counter. My mother gives a little sneer to Cam. "Who, pray tell, are these men, Violette?"

Pray tell? Oh shit, she's mad.

"They're, um…"

Four men who can turn into cheese. They're older than this country. I'm sleeping with three of them and often at the same time.

My mom pivots, her eyebrow peak so sharp I expect a crack to tear her skin up to her hairline.

"Janitors!" I cry out. "They're janitors who clean up the shop at night. That's why they're shirtless. So they don't sweat on their clothes." That makes no damn sense. I slam my hand under my chin to stop my mouth from moving.

My mother takes them in with an even more dismissive eye. Roq crosses his arms, Brie drops his head, Cam leans against the pillar, and Cheddy waves at her. "You have four janitors?" Her tone screams that I'm a lying snake about to put her in an early grave.

"Only two are janitors," I spit out fast. "The others are making a delivery. Thank you for the milk. It'll make a lot of good cheese." I nod to Roq and Cam hoping they'll get the hint.

Roq's face pickles at the thought but at least he keeps silent. It's Cam who oozes closer. "Yes, I've been making extensive deliveries to your daughter. She needs them, craves them every night. So many long, hard packages brimming with thick cream."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Out of nowhere, Roq slams his clipboard against Cam's chest, shoving him back. Then he drops it in front of me. "Sign here," he says and passes me a pen.

I don't even look down at it, my eyes locked on his pleading for help while I jerk the tip of the pen up and down the paper. I'm sorry. I know this is sudden. I wish there was any other way.

My signature sweeps off of the clipboard and I try to write on thin air before I drop my hand. Roq turns the clipboard around and pretends to read it. "Everything seems to be in order. Thank you, Miss. We shall be going now." He stares back at Cam who's settled in for the night. "Let's go…" Roq grabs his arm and tugs him off his feet. "Reggie."

"Reggie?" Cam whines as Roq shoves him to the door. "If anyone's a Reggie it's—"

Roq manages to hurl Cam out the door. He starts to follow but turns to call to me, "We shall see you tomorrow, ma'am."

The door slams shut with a loud woosh. I catch Roq half dragging a complaining Cam around the side of the building from the corner of my eye. Maybe they'll head up to the apartment, or wait this out for an hour at the park. I can fix this. Explain that…

"Half-naked delivery men? This city is deplorable," my mother huffs. She sinks her withering glare on Cheddy and Brie. "Well? Are you going to clean or not? My daughter's not paying you to stand around."

"Yes. Right." Brie dashes to the back to snatch up a broom. He thrusts the mop into Cheddy's hands.

"Are we being paid?" Cheddy whispers before he salutes with the handle, and starts to mop without any water.

This is bad. This is so bad.

My mother watches it all with her usual condescending eye. I can't stop itching my arm, my nails digging deeper into my skin so the anxiety can drip out of me. "Here, let me…" I try to rush over to help Cheddy, but my mom steps in the way.

"Why are you having milk delivered?" she asks.

"To make cheese."

"Stand up straight," she commands and I fling my shoulders back. "Why are you making more cheese? I thought the point of this charade was for you to sell off your"—her lip twitches in a sneer—"uncle's stocks before we rid ourselves of this place."

"It…I, I am. I just, you can't only sell cheddar."

"Why not?"

"Because people want mozzarella or camembert. Fresher cheeses to go with…" As my brain tumbles the words, my mouth stills. That doesn't make any sense.

"Violette, you're not making any sense," my mother says. "Besides, you don't know the first thing about cheesemaking. You're probably poisoning people with your incompetence. That ends now."

"Yes, Mother," I whisper.

She stretches back her arms and inspects the store again. "It's a lucky thing I came out here. You'd have let this place fall to ruin, blown the deal, and lost all your money in the process. You there, skinny one."

Brie pauses in sweeping the trash into a dustbin to turn to my mom. "Me?"

"You missed a spot." She points to one of the tables then turns away from him. "Honestly, Violette, what are you thinking making cheese? I hope you weren't under some delusion you could run this place by yourself." As she finishes, tears bubble in her eyes. My mom sniffs, breaking my heart.

"No," I assure her. "I would never. This was only for three months. Really. We can, I can sell off whatever remains, and then come home."

What are you doing? What happened to forty days with them? Are you going to give all of that up just to appease Mom?

My mother lays a soothing palm on my cheek and lightly pinches the skin. "You're not using your creams." She drops her touch and wipes her hand off. "It's like touching crepe paper."

"Oh." I jerk back and try to cover my skin. "I'm sorry. I've been putting them on after my shower, but…"

"But you need to try harder, Violette. Honestly, you would be dead in a ditch without me."

"That's not funny to joke about," Cheddy leaps in. I try to wave him off, insisting I don't deserve defending, but he wields his broom like a sword and confronts my mother.

"I'm sorry, why aren't you working?"

"Cause you were being mean to—"

"Get back to work or you're fired," she threatens.

Cheddy's eyes go wide and he leans back. "Are you a witch?" he whispers. "Brie, she's gonna set me on fire."

My mother shrugs off the coat she didn't need in this June heat. "Now that I'm here, this place should run much more efficiently. I bet you'll sell off all of this stock in three, no, two weeks. Isn't that wonderful?"

She's staying? I thought she'd see I'm alive, make me swear to call more, then go back home. She hates this city. Why is she staying?

"Violette?" she prompts.

Instead of looking at her, I glance back at the men watching me with worried eyes. They're facing an eviction my mother wants to cut to just fourteen days. What do I tell them? How do I stop this? They don't deserve this.

"Daughter?" my mother thunders and I drop my head.

Turning away from Brie and Cheddy I fall into her wake. "Yes, mom."

"Excellent." She moves to pat my cheek but stops. "Lucky for you I bought more cream with me. It's back at my hotel. You'll be staying with me."

"But I have a room up—"

"You'll be staying with me." The fire crackles and I sigh.

"Yes, mom."

If she had taken the time to check into her room and unpack, she must not have been that worried that I was dead.

I tamp down that cruel gremlin thought by scratching my arm. Everything's great. My mom's just looking out for me. She loves me.

With my chin to my chest, I start to gather up the trash left on the counter.

"Leave that." My mother slaps it away so the cups and wrappers hit the floor. "They're supposed to clean up, not you. We should turn in. After this stressful day, I need a proper bath." She shakes out her hair and combs the dyed chocolate locks with a warning. I start to shuffle after her, accepting my lot.

"Vi?" Cheddy calls my name and I freeze.

"Violette?" Brie asks, passing the broom to his other hand.

What can I say to them? They've been through so much and…and I can't even protect them from my mother. I shiver as her eyes land on me, judging me for every tiny mistake.

"Clean up," a callous voice inside of me orders. Cheddy's eyes fall and Brie huddles into his collar. "Please. We'll…talk tomorrow."

"Okay," Brie says. "I'll tell the…delivery crew about that."

I nod, grateful that Brie understands. I don't want to do this, but what choice do I have?

"Violette!" My mother's sharp tongue cuts through me. I redouble my steps and chase after her.

She shoves open the door with a carefree toss of her hair. "Honestly, the incompetence you have working for you," she starts in before the door even closes. "You should fire them all and hire a new crew."

"I…I don't think I can."

"Of course, you can't." She wiggles her finger before me like she really is the witch Cheddy fears. Then she dots the tip of my nose. "Which is why I came to help. You're welcome."

"Thank you," I knee-jerk respond. Head bent, tongue held, subservient, and happy is how my mother's always wanted me. If I tried really hard then I could make her proud, but I keep messing up which only invites her wrath. I should be grateful that she didn't say anything too outrageous to the guys, especially about them being half-naked.

She'd have an aneurysm if she learned about any of the things I've done in the shop. How not just one man has touched my body but three of them at the same sweaty, thrusting time. I'm as dirty as parking lot snow and, deep in my heart, I don't care.

"It…it didn't bother you that I was alone at night with four men?"

Why did I say that? I just put the damn thought in her head! She's going to blow a gasket and send me to a convent.

My mother doesn't storm in and threaten to have them all hauled to jail for being murder-rapists. She laughs. I gulp and look around, wondering if a cat in a funny costume walked by, but she's staring at me. "Oh, Violette. Men like that don't have any interest in a chubby mouse like you."

The hit cuts deep to the bone. Why do they like me? Do they even like me, or am I just a convenient warm body? A way to keep occupied at night or to stop me from selling their store? What if she's right?

She's always right.

What if they never liked me?

"Now lock up," my mother orders. "We don't want any drug addicts to smash up your store."

Dejected, I slip the key into the lock. It turns back and forth five times. Has to be five or else… "Yes, mother."