"Where are you going?" Tammi looked at her daughter, "Where are you going dressed like that?"
Her daughter, Mindy, was wearing a skirt that was one size too small and four inches too short to be respectable, her dark brown hair about the only thing covering her chest. The deep v in the t-shirt revealing her ample cleavage.
"Work," Mindy smiled, snapping her chewing gum, "I get more tips when I dress like this."
She said she was a waitress at a bar and Tammi had no reason not to believe her. No reason except that she had rarely ever told the truth before and the money. Too much money. All of a sudden there were new smart-phones, new cars, jewelry.
"Work?" Tammi shook her head disgusted, "It's bad enough you work in a bar, but to see my daughter whore her self out, gawked at for tips."
Tammi looked away disgusted. She couldn't stand that thought of anyone staring at her daughter that way. Sexually. To Tammi, she was still the innocent child growing up in her house, playing with her brother, their father.
Their father. She missed him. She couldn't admit it he was gone yet. Why was he gone? The anger still boiling inside of her. He should still be here, with them, with her. If he was here would she be like this? Would he have been able to stop her.
"I'll be back by two," Mindy touched her mom's arm, snapping her from his thoughts.
"Be safe," she hugged her daughter and went off to find comfort in the voices on the television.
She didn't know how long she had fallen asleep for, only that the television was now blaring out paid programming instead of her romance movie. She turned the television off and sat for a moment.
"Mom," she heard her son, Mark, call out from the front door.
Mark was her bedrock. As much as Mindy was devious, he was genuine. She looked at him as he walked through the room to give her a hug. He had gotten so strong, so big.
"Sorry I'm so late," he sat on the couch next to her, "lost track of time and then I had too many beers, had to walk."
She reached out and squeezed his leg. He was so responsible. It made her proud of how she raised him, how they raised him.
He had come back from school after their father had died. Partly because he needed to grieve with his family and partly because he knew his mother couldn't maintain this house without his help. It was a time to bind together, to help.
"I wanted to talk to you," Tammi looked at her son, astonished at his striking resemblance to his father. "Your sister, where does all the money come from?"
"She's a waitress," Mark smiled, "and she's a hot waitress."
"Is that all?" Tammi squeezed his leg, "There's nothing more?"
"Mom, guys drink at bars, she touches them on the shoulder," he rested his hands on his mother's, "she rubs a breast on their back. They feel good and give her money."
"So she's a basically a whore?" Tammi looked at Mark. How could he talk about her like this, his sister, and not be upset.
Neither of them heard the door softly closing in the hallway, or the soft footsteps that approached.
"Look, if she wasn't my sister, I'd want to nail her to the headboard," Mark squeezed his mother's hand, "she exudes sex. Hot erotic sex. Men want her."
Mindy stopped dead in her tracks. What had she just heard? She wasn't sure. Quietly, she slipped unseen to listen.
"I mean," Mark continued, "I've seen her walk through a park and until I knew it was her, tried to chase her down. She's that hot mom."
"So you're saying it's normal," Tammi looked down upset, "for my daughter to let men gawk and grope her for tips?"
"Yes," Mark laughed and gave her a reassuring hug. "Completely normal. We should get to bed."
They both stood and walked off to their bedrooms, never noticing Mindy in the hallway, intently listening.
