Free Pretty Hate (New Adult Novel) by Ava Ayers

her head.
    “Just what I said: why did you give me a dead man's last name?”
    My mother drained every bit of vodka out of the tumbler and put it on the table.
    “I-Because, he was still my husband.”
    “But, Johnny Munroe was not my father. Sure, he's Rebel's father by adoption and Mazie's natural father, but not mine.”
    “Jesus Christ, Beth, dead man’s last name...you're such an actress. It doesn't matter!”
    “It matters a lot! It's my name ! You were all excited when you named Rebel Love and Mazie Goodnight, weren’t you? Then, when it came time for me, you were all worn out so you just slapped any old name on me.”
    “I did not slap any old name on you. You know your name is significant. The most significant because I lo--”
    “You loved him, right?”
    “I don't think I like your tone, girl. Yes, I loved him. More than anyone.”
    “Then why didn't you give me his last name?”
    “You know exactly why. Oh, but you want me to say it again and rub it in my face. Fine! By the time you was born, Mickey was long gone!”
    I leaned back against the chair and watched Merry-Bell coloring her spitballs and closed my eyes.
    “Johnny Munroe was long gone by the time I was born too; he was dead. Yet, you saw fit to give me a dead man's name...a dead man who isn't even my father.”
    “Beth, I am tired,” she said as she stood from the table and grabbed her tumbler. “I have a long shift tomorrow. Something you obviously know nothing about.”
    She turned and walked toward the kitchen and Merry-Bell clucked her tongue.
    “Mom?” I said.
    “What now, Beth?” she said and swung around and faced me. “You gonna dig up everything thing I did wrong over the years? Is that's what's going on here? You're looking for someone to blame for your miserable excuse of a life and I'm a perfect scapegoat.”
    “Miserable excuse...huh. That's ironic coming from you,” I said.
    “Watch it, Beth.”
    “You didn't know his real last name, did you?”
    Her eyes darted for a second and she looked out the window.
    “I...what?” she said.
    “Well, Mickey’s last name certainly was not Sexual . Even you wouldn’t name a baby Beth Sexual . I mean, Beth Sexual may be fine if I was gonna grow up to work for Ivory-Lou, but you are resigned to preordained destiny. You’ve been shoving it down our throats since birth. It would have terrified you to give a baby a porn name. As much as you think I won’t amount to shit, I know you didn’t want me to grow up to be a stripper at Knockers.”
    “What do you want from me, Beth?” my mother said and looked at the floor.
    I looked at my phone again and the frustration and anger spun like a cyclone in my chest.
    “I want you to tell me the fucking truth!” I said and slammed my hands on the table.
    The table shook and some of Merry-Bell’s spit ornaments bounced off and onto the floor.
    “These fucking people are goddamned lunatics,” Merry-Bell said as she bent over and picked up the paper.
    “You need to lower your voice and you need to relax,” my mother said.
    “Do not tell me what I need! You need to tell me the truth. That’s all I want. Say it, Mama!”
    “Say what ?”
    “That you don’t know the name of this man you loved so much, this man you let knock you up and dump you, this married man who chose his wife over you! You didn’t give me Mickey’s last name because you didn’t even know his real fucking name!”
    My mother stared at me, face aflame and balled her hands into fists.
    “Oh, you hold on there, girl. Boy, do I have something for you. Just a minute, princess.”
    My mother ran out of the dining room and Merry-Bell and I stared at one another.
    “His real last name could be Sexual, couldn’t it?” Merry-Bell said.
    “No, Merry-Bell,” I said and sighed, “his real last name could not be Sexual.”
    “Yes, Beth, it could too,” she said as she took her glasses off. “Way back, I was watching that television guy David Letterman, Jew, by