Trust Me

The journey began, as soon as stepped out of the trampled down flat that I had been living in for the past month with my mother and her latest toy boy, James, who was currently out grocery shopping , and completely unaware my mother and I were moving out.
My heavy suitcase banged against the left side of my legs as I trudged down the stairs, the smell of piss and alcohol lingering in every corner. For once I was glad to be moving. James was old, or should I say, young enough to be dating me, he was only 21, and thought that my mom was only 25. He also thought we were sisters but
most people do. My mother is gorgeous. Long, black hair, naturally tanned skin, and large brown eyes and full, pouty lips. She's half Spanish, making me quarter Spanish and three quarters English. I take after my dad. Apart from my slightly tanned skin that I despise and thick black hair. I look completely like my father, the same slanted cheekbones, almond shaped green eyes, and straight nose.
That's why I avoid looking in the mirror at all costs. I don't want to be reminded about him. We were the spitting image of each other.
"For heavens sakes Bella, hurry up! Jamie will be back in less than ten minutes! Move it!" My mother crowed down the stairs, her arms laden with numerous designer bags James had bought for her. I rolled my eyes, but made an attempt to quicken my pace, hoisting my heavy rucksack further up my aching back. That’s one thing I had learnt living with my mother. Don't mess with her. When she says jump, jump.
I finally reached the bottom of the steps, and I pushed my way through the door and out of the building. The heat was almost unbearable outside. I hate the heat, it makes me very uncomfortable and sticky. Maybe New Jersey won't be such a bad move after all. My mothers car trunk was open, so I slung my suitcase in, along with the rest of our possessions. I heard my mother tottering up behind me, Click! Click! Click! in her white stilettos, gasping for breath. I got out of her way and climbed into the passenger seat before throwing my rucksack onto the back seats. I was pretty much prepared for the long journey, my rucksack was full with books, CD's, my disc man, and lots and lots of Diet Coke and Razzles. I turned on the radio, and tuned into a local station that played half decent music.
"Shit!" I heard my mother scream, but I didn't bother to turn around and ask her what was up, she probably broke a nail or something. But the next thing she said, caught my attention. "He's back!"
For a minute, for a stupid minute, I thought, and I don't know why, that she was talking about Dad. That dad was back.
I leapt out of the car wordlessly and looked around the parking lot.
"What the hell are you doing Bella!? Get in the car! We've got to go, James's back!" she shouted, flinging the car door open. I snapped out of my trance and jumped back into the car, slamming the door behind me.
In seconds we screeched out of the lot, leaving a screaming James behind us. Poor guy. He thought she was 'the one'.
"Mom, are you ever going to settle down again? With like, one guy?" I asked turning off the radio, and winding my window down.
She threw back her head and cackled, "Don't be stupid. Why have one, when I can have them all? Now, turn the radio back on. We've got a four hour journey ahead of us, and we're stopping only once at noon, so you better stock up on coffee then." I sighed, and switched on the radio.