Dont Blame Me

Chapter 27

She doesn't deign me a verbal answer. Instead, she leans in and skates her lips across mine. I let her explore, our kiss much calmer. The burn is a low sizzle, bubbling beneath the surface but depleted of oxygen to allow it to grow. Sex isn't something either of us needs right now. She's not in the right mindset, and I don't know if I ever will be. This thing with Lisa -it's confusing.
And eventually, I'm going to have to put a stop to it. Just not tonight.

*****

My phone vibrates in my hand, and I sigh when I see it's my mother. Despite my brain screaming at me not to, I click the green button and slap the phone on my ear.

"Hey, Mom," I greet, trying to keep my voice from betraying how I actually feel.

"Hello, honey. How are you doing?" she asks, her prim voice tightening my body into stone. It's a trained reaction when passive aggressive insults are being slung my way most of the time.

"I'm good, just getting ready for the fair," I answer, glancing over at Ashley.
We're in my room getting dressed, a heady sense of anticipation in the air.
Satan's Affair is tonight, and we always have the best fucking time. I know tonight won't be any different. I'll finally have a night where my headspace isn't filled with dangerous people and a murder gone cold.
Or maybe a particularly dangerous woman I haven't seen in a week.

"That haunted fair you go to every year?" she asks derisively. "I don't understand why you like going to those things. I swear there's a mental condition associated with finding enjoyment out of horror." She mutters the last part, but not quiet enough for it to clearly transmit through the phone.

Pesky radio signals.

I roll my eyes. "Was there a reason you called, Mom?"

Ashley snorts, and I shoot her a glare.

"Yes, I wanted to know what your plans are for Thanksgiving. I expect you and Ashley will be visiting?"

I suppress the groan working its way up my throat. Ashley and I are like a married couple and split holidays between our families.
She has a large family, and they've always welcomed me with open arms. Their get-togethers are loud with laughter and games, and I die of bliss every time I eat their food.
While my family is small and stiff. My mother has mean cooking skills, but she lacks the warmth and comfort, and I usually end up going to bed early and leave in the morning.

"Yep," I confirm. I roll my lips, contemplating doing something very stupid now that I have her on the phone.

"Hey, uh, Mom?"

"Hmm?" she hums, a note of impatience laced in her tone.

"Can I ask you a few questions about Gigi's murder?"

Ashley's eyes widen almost comically, and she mouths, "What are you doing?"

She knows as much as I do that Mom might not take well to us investigating Gigi's murder. But I have to ask.
She might have some valuable information, and getting in an argument with her might be worth it if there's a possibility of learning something new.

She sighs. "If it'll convince you to move out of that place."

I don't deign her a response to that, letting her believe what she wants if it gets her talking.

"Did you know Grandpa John's best friend? Frank Seinburg?"

She's silent for a beat. "I haven't heard that name in a long time," she says. "I didn't know him personally, but your Nana spoke of him."

"What did she say about him?"

She sighs. "Just that he was around a lot up until Gigi was murdered, then he kind of disappeared."