"I heard we have a visitor," Johnny said when I entered his room. He was actually in bed today, lounging with one arm behind his back. All he needed was one of those coconut drinks with an umbrella, and he'd look like he was in relaxation mode.

"We?" I asked, eyeing the television in front of him. It was another classical black and white movie, but this one I recognized because it starred Shirley Temple.

"Yup, the good ole mayor is coming to visit," Johnny snickered. I shouldn't be happy that he couldn't stand the mayor, but it felt good when you and your friend shared a distaste for someone, that and the more people who could see through the mayor's BS, the better.

But if I had known that man would be here, I would have skipped my usual visit and tried again on Sunday. It was a miracle I've spent this long without seeing the mayor's in person again. Another day or two, maybe even the rest of my life, would've been great.

I hadn't been standing there more than five minutes when one of the nurses asked Johnny if he would like to join the press gathering in the dining hall. Supposedly, a few residents were making their way down, excited to possibly get their picture taken with their "favorite" mayor.

"You interested?" I asked Johnny.

He made a disagreeing grunt noise. "I'm only going because there's going to be snacks."

I helped him into his wheelchair, and we headed down.

Reporters from the paper were reporting live, and about a dozen residents were watching the scene.

The mayor got up on this podium, and he spoke about the new edition to the building and how he believed the residents would benefit from it, etc.

A few photos were snapped, and more than a couple of snacks were stolen and shoved under Johnny's hoodie. I was his willing accomplice.

After the little speech, I had unfortunately bumped into my biggest enemy on my way to rescue Johnny, who had gotten caught up in a conversation with Dolores.

"Cameron." He addressed me. I tried to step around him, but he blocked my path. Awesome. "If you don't like to follow the law and you can't comprehend that rules given to you were not meant to be broken, then maybe you want to see all your mother's hard work down the drain."

I flexed my hands, resisting the urge to make a fist.

His eyes flickered down to them, and the bastard smiled. He knew I couldn't hit him, but man, did I want to. So badly.

"I'm happy I didn't have to go as low as sabotaging her business. My loyal townspeople did that for me. I heard clients don't want to go in because who would want their hair styled by the woman who raised such a delinquent son?"

I knew Mom's salon was struggling, but I wanted to be in denial. I wanted her to confirm for me instead of jumping to conclusions. Businesses had their dry seasons. This could be hers. It didn't necessarily mean that I had something to do with that. But hearing it from this man's mouth... crap.

I had to go.

I had to go before I did or said something I couldn't take back. Again.

He stepped a bit closer. "But it could always get worse from there."

Was that a threat?

"Are you done?" I grumbled. I

"Yes. I just had to make sure my point came across, Cameron."

"Loud and clear."

"And one other thing. IT WASN'T A SUGGESTION when I said to stay away from Summer."

I gave him a thumbs up then went on my way.

I saw Johnny being wheeled back to his room, and I hunted down the person who took my job. It was Summer's mom, aka his daughter-in-law. I just let him go, promising to explain when I saw him later.

*

Mom was in the kitchen when I came home. There was no music and or the sound of the television. I had to follow the smell of the lasagna.

"Hey, Mom," I said from the entryway. She was still dressed in her work clothes with her hair in a sleek updo.

Her back was turned to me as she washed the dishes. Something was off. I could tell by the way her shoulders slumped over the sink and how she hadn't met my gaze.

"Hey, Cam. How were the folks at the nursing home?" she asked with a sniffle.

I made some cautious strides towards her, stopping by the island only a few feet away.

My brain ran through all the different scenarios in my head before I managed to give her a generic response. "They're good." I swallowed, carefully choosing my following words. "How's it going with you? Home early again, I see."

"Yup, another slow day. I let the girls take over, and I came home to cook us dinner," she said in a low tone.

I stepped up next to her and began drying the dishes. Silently we continued like that for about 15 minutes. In my head, I've told her what I've wanted to say in at least five different ways. I decided it would be best to rip it off like a band-aid.

I grabbed the last plate from her, placing it on the shelf. Mom dried her hands and then checked on the oven.

"Mom, we need to talk." Her back visibly stiffened as she slipped on her mitts.

Since I came home, she spared me a glance for the first time. "What's this about?"

Her voice was still flat and calm, devoid of one of my favorite personality traits of hers, happiness.

"The salon."

"Oh." She turned back to the food. She needed to pull out of the oven before it burned.

"Yes." I waited until she was clear of the potential danger of getting burned before I dropped the bomb. "A source has told me that the salon isn't doing too good right now. And that it hasn't been doing well since my arrest." There I said it. I raised my voice higher than I intended to for what I had to say next. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Mom sighed, gripping the edges of the counter like they were her lifeline. "It's not your problem. It's mine."

I shook my head, chuckling bitterly. "It wouldn't be yours if I hadn't created it."

"You wouldn't have created it if I had just told you the truth," Mom muttered, hanging her head. She slipped off the mitts angrily, tossing them onside, then she faced me. "This is on me. I can't be mad at you. You were upset and confused. You wanted answers, and when you didn't get that, you acted out."

I shook my head again. "I didn't want answers. I want justice!" I slammed my fist on the counter. "It's not fair that he gets to live the way he does, and no one ever finds out what he did to you." I dragged my fingers down my face. "If I could bring it to light, I would in a heartbeat." I wanted so desperately to fix this. I wanted to see that smug grin wiped off his face, followed by his career going down the toilet. I wanted him to know that I would get every inch of satisfaction knowing that karma had been waiting to get his ass back.

That man could brag about hard work all he wanted and continue to think that he was above paying for his sins. But I wanted to remind him that if somehow karma missed him, I wouldn't.

"Cam, it's just the way it is sometimes, and we have to live with it." Mom walked towards me. Resting her hands on my shoulders, she said, "I, have you. And I love you more than the air breathe."

I didn't know how. What if I hadn't looked like her side of the family? What if I had looked like him, and every day she would have been stuck staring at his spitting image? Would she have thought the same? I took a couple of deep breaths.

There was no reason for me to worry about those things. I needed to push them to the back of my mind or, better yet, completely out of it.

"I couldn't put any of this on you. It's more than I want to bear sometimes, and I can't have you feeling overwhelmed." A hand moved from my shoulder to my cheek. "I don't care what we have to do from here on out. I still own my percentage of the tea business, which is more than enough to keep us comfortable. Plus, there is the money I've saved up from the other investments. So I want you to know that I won't let this small setback ruin our lives. Okay?" Mom took hold of my chin and forced me to meet her gaze.

"Cameron, do you hear me?" She gave me a stern "listen to your mother" look.

"Yes. Ma'am."

It was easy to comply when you planned on breaking the rules.