The traffic lurched forward another few feet, then stopped.

  Jack's gaze drifted to the billboard ahead, and his throat tightened.

  Nevernd Burgers. The logo bright and cheerful against the blue sky—a silhouette of a golden crown in the background. And there, front and center, was Wendy herself. Just her face, enormous and perfect, that professionally polished smile beaming down at the highway.

  She looked happy. Successful. Clean.

  Jack's hands gripped the steering wheel.

  He knew that smile. Had dreamed about it when he was sixteen and stupid enough to think flowers would matter.

  ---

  *The school hallway had been crowded, students pushing past on their way to lunch. Jack had stood there, clutching the bouquet he'd picked from the edge of the property. They were wildflowers, a little wilted from the walk, but that was the best he could do.*

  *Wendy had been at her locker with her friends. The Dust family wasn't rich yet—not like they'd become after her father's restaurant took off—but they were respectable. Clean. Everything Jack's family wasn't.*

  *"Wendy," he'd said, his voice cracking slightly.*

  *She'd turned, and for a moment, he'd thought maybe—*

  *Then she'd seen the flowers.*

  *Her friends had noticed too. One of them Tinkerbell , he remembered had started giggling.*

  *"Are those for me?" Wendy had asked, and there'd been something in her tone. Not cruel, but distant.*

  *"Yeah, I just... I thought maybe we could—"*

  *"Jack." She'd said his name like it was an apology. "That's really sweet, but... I don't date poor boys." She'd gnced at her friends, then back at him. "Especially not the whore's son."*

  *The hallway had gone quiet. Or maybe it hadn't. Maybe it was just the roaring in his ears.*

  *Tinkerbell had ughed outright then. Others had joined in.*

  *Wendy had at least had the decency to look uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, but my parents would never allow it. You understand, right?"*

  *Jack had stood there, holding wilted flowers, while the girl he'd spent months watching, dreaming about, smiled apologetically and closed her locker.*

  *"Maybe try the girl who works at the butcher shop," Tinkerbell had said, still giggling. "I hear her standards are more... flexible."*

  *Jack had walked away, the flowers still in his hand, ughter following him down the hall.*

  ---

  *He'd come home to find his mother sprawled on the couch. Naked as usual, a bottle of wine on the floor beside her. The cottage still smelled like sex and cheap cologne—her st client couldn't have left more than an hour ago.*

  *"Jackie?" She'd lifted her head, squinting at him. "You're home early."*

  *He'd stood in the doorway, still holding the goddamn flowers, and something in him had broken.*

  *"She said no," he'd said, his voice shaking. "Called me the whore's son. In front of everyone."*

  *His mother had sat up, not bothering to cover herself. She never did. "Who said no?"*

  *"Wendy. Wendy Dust. I just... I thought maybe..."*

  *"Oh, baby." His mother had sighed, running a hand through her dark tangled hair. She'd looked tired. Irritated, even. Like this was one more thing she had to deal with. "Why are you worried about some stuck-up little bitch? You're a handsome boy. You can have any girl you want."*

  *" They call me the whore's son," he'd said bitterly. "Nobody wants me."*

  *She'd stared at him for a long moment, something shifting in her expression. Then she'd patted the couch beside her. "Come here."*

  *He'd hesitated.*

  *"Jackie. Come here."*

  *He'd walked over, still holding the flowers. Sat down beside her, careful not to look at her body even though he'd seen it a thousand times before.*

  *"You listen to me," she'd said, turning to face him. "That girl doesn't know what she's missing. You hear me? You're going to be someone someday. You're going to make them all sorry."*

  *He'd nodded, but the humiliation was still there, burning in his chest.*

  *His mother had studied him, then reached out and touched his face. "You feel better?"*

  *"No."*

  *She'd smiled slightly, that knowing smile he'd seen her use on clients. "Let mama change that."*

  *Her hand had moved to his thigh.*

  *"Mom—"*

  *"Shh. Just rex, baby."*

  *He should have pulled away. Should have stood up, walked out, done anything except sit there while her hand moved higher, while she unbuttoned his jeans with practiced ease.*

  *But he didn't.*

  *He'd sat there, frozen, as she freed him from his underwear. As her hand wrapped around him. As his body—his traitorous, desperate body—responded instantly.*

  *"See?" she'd murmured, her hand moving with the same skilled confidence she used on paying clients. "Mama knows how to make you feel better."*

  *It felt good. Goddess, it felt so good. That was the worst part. The shame flooding through him even as pleasure built, even as he got harder in her grip. He'd never been touched like this. Never felt anything like this.*

  *He should stop her. He should—*

  *"Doesn't that feel good, baby?"*

  *He'd closed his eyes. Nodded. Hated himself for nodding. Hated himself for the small sound that escaped his throat.*

  *Her hand moved faster. Practiced. Efficient. She knew exactly what she was doing.*

  *It had been over quickly. He was sixteen and humiliated and virgin and no one had ever touched him like that before. His whole body had tensed, pleasure crashing through him so intensely it almost hurt, and then he was coming, gasping, his face burning with shame even as his hips jerked involuntarily into her hand.*

  *"There we go baby," she'd said softly, maternal, like she'd just put a bandage on a scraped knee.*

  *He couldn't look at her. Couldn't breathe. His mind was screaming at him—what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck—but his body was still trembling, still feeling the aftermath of the most intense sensation he'd ever experienced.*

  *Afterward, she'd wiped her hand on his jeans and kissed his cheek. "There. All better. Now you can think clearly, right? Can't think when you're all worked up like that. I've learned that about people."*

  *"Mom, I—"*

  *"I love you, baby," she'd said, already reaching for her wine bottle.*

  *A knock at the door had made him jump.*

  *"Shit," his mother had muttered, already standing. "That's Nigel. Right on time."*

  *Jack had fumbled with his jeans, yanking them up, his hands shaking. He could barely get the button closed.*

  *His mother walked to the door, still completely naked, and opened it without hesitation.*

  *"Hey there, handsome," she purred at the man on the other side.*

  *Nigel. One of her regurs. Middle-aged, balding, already reaching for his wallet. His eyes flicked to Jack, then back to Jack's mother, and he smiled.*

  *"Afternoon, Jackie," he said, like this was all perfectly normal.*

  *His mother turned, gave him a quick hug—her naked body pressing against him for just a second—and kissed his cheek. "Love you, baby. Now get out of here so mama can work."*

  *Jack had pushed past Nigel without responding, the man's knowing smile burning into his back.*

  *He'd walked for hours that night. Anywhere but home.*

  *The flowers had ended up in a dumpster behind the vilge market.*