Page 46 of Eighteen (18)

I have a problem. A really big problem. And it’s not Mateo. My problem is me.

Jason is drunk when I get home. “Nice,” I sneer at him. Olivia is awake, but Jason has a bottle of formula propped up on a blanket and she’s slurping quietly in her swing. “I guess you won’t be needing my services for much longer. Not after you get fired for showing up drunk tonight.”

He drags his glazed eyes from the TV and stares at me in the chair to his right. “Be careful, kid. If you start nagging me like a wife, I’ll start expecting more than just babysitting.”

“You try it, I’ll cut your dick off when you’re sleeping.”

“Tough girl, huh?” he says back, taking another swig of beer.

“People underestimate me all the time, Jason. You have no idea who I am. So feel free to join the rest of the world. You’ll see what happens if you ever lay another hand on me.”

He gets up, throws his empty bottle in the trash with a clang that says it’s not his first today, and then grabs his keys and walks to the door. “You’re so dramatic, Shannon. It’s not my fault you fuck every guy you meet on the first date.”

“Oh, is that what you think?”

“Jill talked just as much shit about you as you do about her. I know exactly who you are.” He walks out the door, slamming it behind him.

Olivia starts and begins to cry. “Shhhh,” I say to her, taking the bottle and lifting her out of that damn swing. I hold her close, rocking her a little as she rests her head on my chest. Poor baby. She’s stuck with him and she has no idea what kind of a piece of shit he really is. “I won’t leave you here,” I tell her softly. “I promise. I won’t leave you here.”

We sit on the couch and mindlessly watch TV together. Well, she drinks her bottle and I do the mindless stuff. And before long she’s her usual sleepy self. I take her back to Jason’s room and place her in her crib, covering her with a light blanket.

When I get back to the living room my phone is chiming a message.

Mateo: Did you eat?

Shannon: No.

I’ve been using the money Jason leaves on the counter for me for bus fare and school lunch all week. I haven’t eaten since last night. I’m secretly hoping for a dinner invite when Mateo messages back.

Mateo: Check the back porch.

I get up and walk to the sliding door and look down at the ground where a brown paper bag is sitting. I open the door and look to my right, trying to see if he’s in the alley beyond the gate, but there’s nothing there.

I grab the bag and go inside, my mouth watering before I even set it on the counter. There’s another note stapled to the bag, so I rip it off and open it up.

Remind me to remind you to tell me about how people underestimate you all the time.

Jesus Christ. He’s watching me. Listening, at the very least. I bet he came over with food and stood right outside the slider.

I sigh, take out the food—leftover lasagna, hot—and get a fork. I can’t shovel that stuff in my face fast enough, that’s how hungry I am. I’m lucky if I eat once a day. I’ve never been this skinny in my life. I’ve lost so much weight since we moved to California, I’m probably about a hundred pounds. Which doesn’t look bad on me, since I’m so short. But my stomach hurts every day from hunger. I just smoke to forget about it. I always have those, Jason has cartons of them on top of the fridge and for whatever reason, he doesn’t bitch about me taking them, so I help myself daily.

You’d think that asshole would at least bring food home from the restaurant, but no. He doesn’t.

My phone rings and I fish it out of my pocket and press accept. “Yeah,” I say.

“Hungry much?”

I turn around and look at the back patio. Mateo is leaning against the chain-link fence that separates him from a hundred cars a second whizzing past on the freeway below. He looks like he hasn’t got a care in the world.

“You’re a creep, you know that?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“What do you want?”

“No thank you?”

“Thanks,” I mumble, then let out a long sigh. “Really, I mean it. Thanks. I was starving.”