Playing The Part

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NESSA

My mom had a smooth, deep voice. It was the kind of voice that either demanded attention or put a man to sleep, depending on how she chose to wield it.

Her voice was her weapon. And her money-maker. Literally.

Momma Elez was an audiobook narrator.

Which meant I had to be careful when diving into my Audible account for a spicy read. Like hell was I going to listen to my mom describe how some character named Hannah cried out when he hit her just right.

But right now, my mom's voice was driving me up the goddamn wall. There was nothing more irritating than listening to someone else have a voice of reason when you were fucking pissed.

"You can just take the bus on Thursday morning," she said calmly. "I saw there's one leaving around ten. What's wrong with that?"

"Because Thursday morning is Thanksgiving, mom. And Piper and I always watch the Macy's Day Parade." I sighed. Spotting a nearby windowsill, I set my drink on it before turning around to stare at the empty street. I leaned against the siding of Julian Brigg's house. "Not to mention there are creeps on the bus."

"When I was your age—"

"Do not finish that sentence."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, maybe because it's not 1985 anymore."

My mom chuckled, and I rolled my eyes. She was so unbothered, and I was so...bothered.

"Wednesday," she began, and I rolled my eyes again at the use of my full name. "We overbooked ourselves, and I'm sorry. But we can't come and get you tomorrow."

"Why can't dad go to his thing with the Harroldsons without you?"

"Because they're expecting me, and that would be rude."

"I'm expecting you."

Mostly I was annoyed because I'd had my eye on this 2015 Nissan this summer, planning to buy it before coming to Oakland. I knew this would happen, and I wanted to get ahead of it. Unfortunately, scheduling and organization had never been the forte of the Elez family.

But my parents talked me out of getting the car. They said they'd pick me up for breaks and that I should save the money because college tuition was expensive enough without car payments.

"It won't happen again."

That was a bold-ass lie.

"Wednesday!"

Oops, said that aloud.

That was what I got for calling my mom after downing a whiskey-coke. But she started texting about not coming to get me tomorrow, and I didn't even think twice before coming out here and picking up my phone.

"Fine. I'll take the bus home on Thursday," I mumbled, unhappy with the results of this conversation. I'd stormed outside all convinced that I'd get her to change her mind, but I should have known better.

We hung up, and I immediately let out a scream as something brushed against the top of my shoulder.

A low chuckle reached my ears, and I looked behind me to see the curly-haired hipster who I'd met at a party last weekend. Jack? John?

"Hey, didn't mean to startle you," he said, keeping his hand on my shoulder awkwardly.

I looked him up and down quick, taking in the Grateful Dead t-shirt and ripped, black jeans. I was surprised I didn't notice him here before; he didn't exactly fit in.

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