The Dirty Saint (Dirty #1)

3. Chapter Three

3

Chapter Three

After

EZRA

He hurt me.

Then again, a lot of people have.

I know people won’t understand the love I have for Joey Odeh, and that’s okay. They don’t have to. They weren’t in that environment. And they don’t know what we shared.

And, frankly, it’s none of their business anyway.

But right now, I can’t think about any of that. Because, god damn, does it hurt. The pain. The grief. It feels like a weight is pressing on my shoulders and no matter what I do, I can’t shake it.

It’s all too much for me to handle at the moment.

Speaking of which.

“What are you doing here, Mom,” I ask as I set my keys in the bowl by the front door. “Noah is supposed to be with the babysitter.”

“I know, it’s just—oh, sweet baby boy, I think our cookies are ready.” My mother stands up.

“Jesus, Mom.”

She shrugs.

“What? They’re chocolate chip. They’re your favorite.”

I let out a huff before telling Noah to go wash up for bed and that I would be there to tuck him in. He gives me a kiss before obeying.

“So you’re just going to let him go to sleep without even having one first?”

I look my mother in the eyes and smile.

“Yes. That is exactly what I’m doing.”

My mother rolls her eyes. “All these Gen Z parents are so strict on what their kids can and cannot eat. It’s ridiculous. The boy can have some sugar.”

“It is 8:30 at night.” I snap. “Noah will be up for hours. And who do you think will be awake alongside him? Me! And I don’t really want to be dealing with a kid high on chocolate chip cookies.”

My mother puts her palms up as if that is going to calm the situation down.

“I’m just saying, Ezra. Why must you deprive the boy of happiness?”

I scrub the dishes that have been left in my sink, making sure to get all the crusted food off. “You mean like you did with me?”

My mother folds her arms across her chest, annoyed. “What are you talking about?”

I turn around, holding a dripping wet sponge.

“Did you forget how you reacted when that sweet baby boy first made his way into my belly? I do. You made me sleep outside in the cold in nothing but my bra and underwear, which was humiliating since the whole neighborhood saw my tits and ass. Oh, and in the morning, before you went to work, you slapped me so hard across the face that your fingers were imprinted on my skin. But you’re right, Mom. Me not giving my 6-year-old a cookie before bed automatically makes me not mom-of-the-year. Sure.”

My mother shakes her head, guns blazing.

“You just can’t let the past go, can you?”

“Honestly,” I turn around, “Why are you even here? You weren’t invited. This isn’t a holiday or a birthday.” Last time I checked.

“A grandmother can’t see her grandson?”

A laugh escapes my throat. “You know, I have always found the word ‘grandmother’ funny. I find it funny because not only are you not grand , but you also weren’t much of a mother to me either.”

“You better watch your tone, young lady.”

“You are in my home,” I slam the dishwasher shut. “Which means that you don’t get to control what I do. You don’t get to undermine my parenting with my son. You had your chance to be a mother.”

Giselle Maya’s eyes fill with outrage.

“That is enough.”

“Is it, though?” I bark. “Is it ever really with you?”

“I came here to spend time with Noah, not listen to you bash me for your childhood, many of whom would die for.”

And I wonder which part: the part where I was punched for not wanting to go to church or when three of my ribs were broken for having sex. But I guess none of that truly matters since I had food on the table every night and clothes on my back.

“God,” my mother shakes her head, “you are so ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful,” I laugh. “Sure.”

“I wasn’t perfect, and now you’re punishing me? Oh, get over it, Ezra Evaline. This was 23 years ago!”

“And the trauma lasts just as long,” I snap.

“You need to calm down.”

“ Me? ” I laugh incredulously. “I am not the one who loved the boy who raped her child more than her actual daughter.”

“You came onto him, Ezra. There was nothing Caleb could have done.”

A dish clatters in the sink, and I jump back slightly at the loud sound.

“ I came onto him ? Do you even hear yourself, Mom?”

“Caleb Santo was a good boy with a stellar reputation before he got involved with you.”

“I didn’t make him stick his dick in my vagina,” I look her direction. “He did that all on his own.”

“You ruined Michael and Nancy’s life.”

I nod.

And then I lift my shirt up to reveal the nasty scars up and down my stomach.

“ He did this to me!” I cry. “Michael Santo did this !” I point to the whip markings.

“The guilt tripping, Ezra. Always the guilt-tripping,” she whispers.

I roll my eyes.

“Always playing the victim, Mom. You just can’t help it.”

“And to think,” my mother mumbles. “I thought getting you back could help repair our relationship. What a fool.”

“Yeah, Mom, what a fool.”

I grab the cookies from the oven and throw them on the table.

“They’re a little burnt if you ask me.”

My mother gets up from her seat.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” she says.

“I think so, too.”

The second the door closes, my head falls into my hands. I rub my eyes with my palms until they’re sore.

She’s insufferable. Has been since I was born. She’s toxic, and she’s narcissistic, but there was still a part of me that believed our bond could be salvaged.

I’m done. I am so, so done. She will not disrespect me in my home or anywhere ever again. I figured out how not to need her then, and I sure as hell do not need her now.

“Mom, why are you crying?”

Noah is standing in the living room, holding his teddy bear, Buck.

I turn off the faucet.

“Mom was just sad for a moment, that’s all. But she’s okay now, bud. Come. Why don’t we go read a book?”

“And the little boy,” I kiss Noah’s forehead, “Knew that he was loved beyond measure and treasured beyond belief. The end.”

I close the story and pull Noah into me. He rests his head against against my shoulder.

“Mom, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, bud. What’s on your mind?”

“Why don’t you and Grammy get along?”

I shouldn’t lie to my child. I know that. As much as I may not always like my mother, my son has lost too much already, and I won’t take something else away from him.

“Grammy and I don’t always see eye-to-eye,” I tell Noah. “But that doesn’t mean that we don’t love each other very much.”

“I heard her yell at you.”

I bite back on my irritation.

Of course, he did.

She’s lucky I have yet to put her in a fucking home. Or six feet under.

“We both yelled. We both acted as if we weren’t adults. But everything is fine, bud. Grammy and I are fine.” I grit my teeth.

Looking at my son, I cannot comprehend how my mother can treat me the way she does. How Giselle Maya can stand to hate me will forever be something I don’t understand. I would die for my child. I would kill for him; in fact, I already have.

He is the greatest piece of my existence.

What a shame it is that I’m not hers.

During

JOEY

“You check up on the soldier today,” Dom asks as he takes a big bite out of his sandwich, the mustard dripping onto his lips. He quickly grabs a napkin to wipe it off.

“Not yet. I went to see Zahra instead.”

When the waitress comes to ask if we need anything else, I shake my head. “We’re good, but thank you.”

As she leaves, I can’t help taking a brief glance at her perfectly round tits, which are spilling out of her pink camisole. The two breasts are perky and tight, just begging to be handled properly.

Dom claps me on the shoulder. “You should go up to the waitress and give her your number. That woman looks like she needs to be fucked real good.”

“I already promised Aviva my cock tonight. But maybe another time.”

I lean back in the chair, resting my head against the brown-leather booth, fiddling with the watch clasped around my wrist. I then drag a finger against the ‘Z’ that I had engraved after my sister’s passing.

“Dude. What the fuck is wrong with you? Aviva is batshit crazy. I heard her father sells her feet pictures to help fund their lifestyle.”

I shake my head. “Whatever. She’s a decent enough fuck, and it isn’t like we’re sitting around her fireplace, discussing our personal lives.”

“Still. You should be careful. You don’t wanna get dragged into her shit.”

Because I don’t have enough shit of my own to deal with.

“Why don’t you just go back to devouring your food like a goddamn animal, okay?”

“You know what, man, I’m just looking out for you.”

“Ugh.” I quickly scoot back as Madi takes a seat next to me, her honey-blonde hair tied into a low ponytail. “You’re here too.”

She waves the waitress over to us, taking a sip of Dom’s strawberry milkshake.

“That was mine, by the way.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, handing the waitress back the menu after ordering her lunch. “But that only made me want it more.”

I laugh, giving Madi a kiss on the cheek.

“You two have really never fucked?” Dom points to both of us. “Like ever?”

“I’m gay, dickwad.” Madi takes another sip of the milkshake, dabbing at her lips with a napkin.

“She was also my sister’s best friend,” I remind him.

“So? That’s never stopped anyone.”

“True. But I wouldn’t get with Joey even if I preferred cocks.”

I shoot a quick glare at Madi, and she shrugs, flipping her ponytail off her shoulder.

“What? You’re not my type. Hell, I’m not yours either. I don’t have the ‘imaginary brain’ and ‘big tits’ thing going on.”

“Yeah, I would say they’re pretty flat.” Dom smugly leans back in the chair, pressing his back to the sofa.

“And just for that,” Madi takes the milkshake, throwing it in Dom’s face, before angrily slamming the glass down. “Here’s my gift to you. That’s what you get for being an asshole.”

I watch as the liquid pink substance drips down my friend’s hair, staining his clothes and shoes. I bite back a laugh, utterly amused at the whole situation that has just unfolded in front of me.

“Next time,” Madi takes the hot plate from the waitress, nibbling on a pickle before placing it down in front of her, “Don’t be one.”

“Sorry.” I point to the table. “We had a bit of a situation here.”

“I see that. Let me get something to wipe up the mess.” The waitress saunters away on her heels, calling over to a fellow waiter to grab some towels.

“You’re lucky you’re so important to Joey. Otherwise, I would make you regret even looking at me funny,” Dom barks, wiping his milkshake-covered phone on a napkin.

“You two. Cut this shit out,” I interject, pushing Dom back and holding onto Madi’s shoulder.

“But she started it!”

“Oh please. You started it!”

“Do you think I give a rat’s ass who started it?” Not in the slightest. “Stop it.”

Madi rolls her eyes, sipping her coke. “Okay, boss.”

“Let’s just go back to having a nice lunch,” I say.

“It would be nicer if she wasn’t here,” Dom mutters under his breath.

I roll my eyes.

“Grow up,” I snap. “Both of you. God.”

The two of them are making me think I should be spending more time with the soldier in my basement.

Speaking of which, I wonder how she is.

* * *

After a few more minutes of watching the Army Lieutenant, I feel my phone buzz.

God damn it.

“What is it, Santi?”

“It’s Mom,” my youngest brother says on the other line. “She’s in the hospital.”

I curse under my breath, not wanting Ezra to hear me. Once I collect myself, I respond to my brother’s revelation.

“I’ll be there in a few,” I say, already on my way out.

“Manni just got here, but—”

I cut my brother off.

“Good. Give me several minutes.”

I pull into the hospital parking lot with my hands balled into fists so tight my knuckles have turned white. I make my way up to the room, a flurry of anger stirring inside me.

“What the hell happened,” I bark, stumbling into the small room.

“Joey, calm down. She’s fine,” my older brother Manni insists. “It was just a fall.”

I look at my mother, who’s lying in a hospital bed.

“It’s not just a fucking fall, Manni if she’s in the damn hospital. Did he do this?” I hiss, pointing to my father, who is sitting in the corner reading a paperback. “I want him out of here.”

“Joe—”

I walk up to my father, ripping his book from his grasp. He snarls at me and attempts to take it back, but I hold on as if the world depends on it.

“Did you hurt her, Dad,” I demand.

“No,” my father says. “Now give me back my book.”

I shake my head.

“Give me one good reason why should I believe any word that comes out of your fucking mouth?”

“Because it’s the truth, Joe,” my mother whispers. “Your father didn’t do anything to me.”

I twist my head to look at my mother, whose eyes are barely awake. I hide the pain in my chest at the sight of her.

I don’t buy it.

“Joe, you’re acting like a fucking two-year-old,” my father hisses.

At two years old, my father was already an abusive piece of shit. He used to yank me from my bed, and throw me to the ground, kicking me until something had either shattered, broken, popped, or cracked. He was an angry, bitter prick— and he still is.

My mother put up with it solely because she was fearful of his temper and, also, being the beauty she is, thought she had the power to fix what years of damage had done to him.

But me? I have hated my father from the very moment I entered this world.

And that hatred has woven itself until something unbreakable.

I grit my teeth, resting my fist at my side. I’m tempted to call security and get him escorted out of here, but I don’t have the energy to deal with that right now.

“I swear to god, if I find out that he did this to you, I will—”

“Nana?” I hear a little voice call out. “Nana, are you okay?”

I turn around to see my nephew and godson, David, standing in the hallway. A frightened look is sprawled across his face, and tears are welled up in his eyes. Manni runs over to him, scooping up the little boy in his arms.

“Nana is okay, honey. She’s just had a slight fall.” Manni kisses the tears off of his little boy’s cheeks. “Plus, your Nana’s tough, Davi. A fall isn’t going to do her in.”

I ruffle his hair and then plant a kiss on his forehead. He wraps his arms around my neck, and I lean into him, smiling.

“Are you having fun with Uncle Joey over there,” Santi asks, sauntering into the hospital room with a bag of chips in tow. He kisses David’s cheek and then leans down to give Otto, his stuffed giraffe, one too.

“Where’d you come from,” I question, bouncing David up and down in my arms.

“Dellah’s,” he quickly answers. “She was having a party.”

My eyebrows come together to form an arch.

“What kind of party?”

A wide grin spreads across Santi’s face.

“Nothing. Just a small little get-together.”

“You really expect me to believe that?”

Santi claps me on the back. “No, big brother, I don’t.”

Manni pulls David’s shirt down to cover his cute little belly. “Was it at least fun?”

“Big brother, you have no idea.”

I roll my eyes at Santi, feeling like my brain is about to explode out of all sides of my head. Bless my immature, out-of-touch younger brother.

“Well, I’m glad you were able to escape reality for a moment.” I wish I could do the same. “But we have bigger problems now.”

“Like what?”

I take a breath.

“Like how we are supposed to keep our mother alive with almost no money.”

What, you think I became a paid hitman for fun?

I wish.

No, I forged myself into a selfish monster because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the one woman who has always loved and protected me.

But my family can’t know that.

And no matter what it takes, I’ll make sure they never find out.

“So what do we do,” Santi asks.

Manni shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

I do, though.

But she’s not gonna like it.