My explanation didn't help. In fact, it only added to his confusion. I stepped around him and walked to the car. Brando stood dumbfounded as he watched me pull the handle and get inside.
My mother had always been a beautiful woman. Her honey blond hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders, and the diamond studs in her ears glittered in the moonlight.
"Carina," she said in a haughty tone.
"Madelyn," I replied as I reached into my apron and pulled out my cash tips. I quickly counted my earnings, with my mother staring on, probably counting every dollar along with me.
"Fifty percent, as agreed," I said and placed a small pile of cash into Madelyn's outstretched palm. She tossed the money into her expensive designer purse, not bothering to look it over.
"You are ridiculous. At this rate, it's going to take you forever. Why don't you ask your fath—"
"I said I would pay you back," I cut her off. "I'm giving you what I can."
"Why are you always protecting him?" She shook her head, her lip curling with disgust. "Daddy's little girl. Funny that you called me to help fix your mess."
"I'm taking care of it." I rolled my eyes. If I had gotten my father involved things would have turned out a lot worse.
"What did I tell you, huh? Nothing but trash. Every last one of them."
"You're wrong."
"Am I?" One corner of her mouth curled into a smirk. "Actions have consequences, Carina. In the end, we all get what we deserve."
"And what about you? What do you deserve? I'm your daughter, and yet you sit there looking down your nose at me. Ridiculing me. Enjoying my misery." My chest was heaving as I tried not to cry. I would've rather smashed my head against the tinted glass than give her the satisfaction. Madelyn leaned closer to me, her lips pinched tight and nostrils flaring.
"You don't know the first thing about misery, little girl." She sat back and folded her hands in her lap. "Figure out a faster way to repay my money. You thought your problems were bad when the Asesinos were on your ass? That's nothing compared to my wrath." She could shapeshift from a regular everyday bitch to the queen of all bitches in record time. I also knew her threats were not idle. She'd almost succeeded in ruining my father.
Brando's shadowy figure suddenly appeared just a few feet from the dark tinted windows.
"Carina?" he said as he tried to see through the window. I would have called out a reply, except I knew he wouldn't be able to hear me.
"Who is this fool?" Madelyn snorted, watching Brando pace the length of the car, his patience wearing thin. "I bet you didn't
tell him, did you?" She lifted one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, and an evil grin slid across her lips.
My mouth tightened, and my jaw clenched, but I didn't say a word. I learned long ago to control my emotions when it came to her. Madelyn Risto was like a viper ready to strike at the first sign of weakness.
"It would be interesting to find out what he does when you tell him about—"
"Are we done here?" I interrupted, not wanting her to speak the name. Especially knowing how much she enjoyed my agony. Wasn't it a mother's job to protect her child? To move hell and earth to see them smile?
Madelyn studied me for a second, her icy blue stare raking over me before turning her head dismissively.
I slid out of the back seat then closed the heavy door with a soft clunk before the car pulled away. The familiar ache in my leg reminded me of my stupidity and at the same time fueled me to keep doing what was right. My mother's coldness and disregard had broken my heart once. I rubbed the scar on my thigh, knowing I'd had nothing left to break.
"Carina?" Brando walked to stand beside me. "What the hell was that about?"
"Please," I said through clenched teeth as I turned to face him, "just leave me alone." I made a gesture between us. "I can't do this right now."
He was a good man. He would see it as his duty to fight my battles. I couldn't allow him to get tangled up in my mess. It was something I needed to take care of all by myself, then get on the next thing smoking out of South Carolina.
Brando looked as if he was going to say something, his head shaking rapidly, and his mouth was open even though he spoke no words. Finally, his shoulders relaxed.
"You want me to just walk away from you?"
"Yes," I answered quickly, on the verge of hysterics. "Stop coming to the restaurant! Stop drinking coffee! Stop smiling at me! Stop drawing me pictures!" I pulled one of his sketches out of my apron and tossed it at him.
"Carina, I—"