“I am,” Mario confirmed. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought … and I’ve been attending a Women’s Studies class at college.”
That was news to me … and totally predictable at the same time. “You’re back in school? I thought you and Grandpa were running your food truck full time.”
“We are, but winter is coming,” Mario pointed out. “And not in a fun way like on Game of Thrones. Yes, Avery, I knew exactly where your mind was going. The thing is, we can’t make a lot of money from the truck during the winter so I decided to take a few classes. That way I can further my education at the same time I’m earning money.”
That sounded like a good idea. Per usual, his class selections seemed wacky. “But Women’s Studies?”
“That’s where the women are,” Mario snapped. “It’s also a very useful class. Have you ever heard of ‘mansplaining’?”
“No,” I deadpanned. “Never. Tell me about it.”
Mario either missed the sarcasm or ignored it. “Mansplaining is when a man explains something to a woman in a condescending manner.”
I pressed my lips together and snagged Eliot’s gaze. “Is he messing with me? I really can’t tell.”
“I’m not sure.” Eliot moved his hand over my back. “Given his day, I’m going to assume he’s simply slow.”
“I guess I’ll go with that.” I rolled my neck. “And why is mansplaining important?”
“Because women don’t like it when men talk down to them,” Mario replied, his tone no-nonsense. “It’s a real thing. I’m not making it up.”
“Well, I’m so glad you explained it to me.”
Eliot chuckled. “I love your family. Have I ever told you that?”
“You can have them.”
“I heard that, young lady,” Mom admonished. “You’re stuck with us.”
“To my joy and sorrow.”
“Speaking of sorrow, don’t you think you should’ve called us after you were almost killed at that protest the other day?” Mom’s voice was accusatory. “I had to hear from your cousin that you were okay.”
“Which cousin?”
“That would be me,” Derrick replied. “I thought it best if someone informed the family that you weren’t bleeding out in front of the courthouse.”
“Thanks.” I flashed him a sarcastic thumbs-up. “Well done.”
“Don’t give him lip.” Mom warned. “He’s the good one right now.”
“Suck up,” I hissed under my breath.
“I’m fine being the good one,” Derrick said. “I like it when everyone knows you’re evil.”
“Whatever.”
“Let’s go back to talking about me,” Mario suggested. “I got two numbers today, by the way. I bet you thought I wouldn’t get any, Avery.”
“How many women did you ask out?” I was legitimately curious. “Did you keep track?”
He turned evasive. “That hardly matters.”
“It matters to me.”
“That’s because you’re what those male protesters call a ‘ballbuster,’” Mario countered. “You don’t need to know how many I asked, only how many saw through the crap and embraced the wonder that is Mario.”
“That sounds like a really bad television show,” I noted. “The Wonder that is Mario, a television show for people who enjoy being slapped.”
“Oh, is that what happened to your face?” Realization dawned on Derrick. “How many times were you slapped?”
“Just one.”
“I saw you slapped three times,” Eliot pointed out.
“Oh, right. Three times. I enjoyed each and every love tap, though. Just wait. Those women will warm up to me.”
“Forget the smacks,” Grandpa instructed. “He’s got a lot more slaps in his future. Trust me.”
“Why do you say that?” Mom asked. “He’s a good boy. You’re a good boy, right, Mario?”
“I’m the best boy,” Mario replied, unveiling the special smile he kept in his pocket for my mother when she was feeling petulant. “People everywhere wish they could be a boy like me.”
Grandpa rolled his eyes. “He inherited the family mouth just like Avery,” he argued. “He’s going to get slapped. The only reason she doesn’t get slapped more is because she knows how to fight women – and win – and men would go to jail for putting their hands on her. Frankly, I’m surprised Mr. Long Hair over there hasn’t locked her in the basement to shut her up.”
Eliot smiled indulgently. “I happen to be a fan of her mouth … er, at least most of the time. When she gets to be too much I go to the gun range.”
“I can see that.” Grandpa had seemingly forgotten about his meal, which was unheard of because he enjoyed eating with the best of them. “Is this the radio guy who is on trial?”
“For rape,” I acknowledged.
“And do we actually think he’s guilty of rape?”
I briefly met Eliot’s gaze and shrugged. “We don’t know. That’s up to the jury. I listened to some testimony today, and it was fairly compelling.”
“He’s guilty,” Derrick interjected, grim. “Trust me. I was part of the investigative team who brought him in. He’s guilty.”
“I’m not sure he is.” Grandpa wasn’t one to agree simply because a family member told him he should. “I listen to his radio show quite often, and he says he was set up. I can see that. Do you want to know why? People are creative when they want to take down a strong man.”
His argument struck a chord in me. “You listen to his show?”
He bobbed his head. “He says some sensible things.”
“Like what?”
“Things were better when women wanted to stay home and raise children. The happiest years of my life were when your grandmother was stuck at home taking care of our children and I was off fishing.”
“Do you not hear what’s wrong with that statement?”
“No. What’s wrong with it?”
“She was home taking care of the kids – kids you were fifty-percent responsible for, by the way – and you were off having a good time. That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, kid,” he reminded me. “Sometimes you have to do what you have to do. That’s why I like you. That’s a lesson you learned early.”
“But I’m a woman working in a field dominated by men,” I reminded him. “Should I be home having kids?”
“I’ve seen your work when left to babysit your cousins,” he replied without missing a beat. “You should never under any circumstances be left alone with children.”
“So … I’m different?”
“You’re you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He let loose a disgruntled sigh. “Kid, you always have to back people into a corner so you can win. That’s the thing I hate most about you.”
“I get it from you!”
“I know, that’s why I hate it.” He remained calm, but it was obviously an effort. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t work. You would go insane if you were stuck at home. Plus, let’s face it, the youth of America is not safe with you. That doesn’t mean other women shouldn’t stay home.”
“I agree … as long as they want it,” I said. “Being a homemaker is an admirable endeavor. It is not something that’s owed to men, though. If a woman wants to stay home, good for her. If she doesn’t, then she shouldn’t have to.”
“And what about the children?” Grandpa challenged. “Someone has to stay home to take care of them.”
“Let the guy do it.”
“Oh, please.” Grandpa rolled his eyes. “Is Eliot going to quit his job and stay home with your kids when they come?”
“We’re not having kids.”
I expected him to argue, but instead he merely nodded. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I already knew that. It’s probably a wise decision for the two of you. It will work. You can both keep your jobs and do whatever weird stuff you feel like at night without having to worry about tucking kids in.”
“What about Derrick?” I asked, refusing to let it go. “When his baby gets here, should he stay home and take care of it?”
“Of course not. That’s Devon’s job.”
“What?” Eyes wide, Devon slowly tore her attention from her overflowing plate. “Did he just say what I think he said?”
It was odd for me to be on the same side as Devon, but that didn’t mean I was going to abandon her to my grandfather’s old-fashioned views. “He thinks you should stay home after you give birth. Is that what you’re going to do? Give up your job?”
“Um … actually I was thinking of getting an in-house nanny. After my maternity leave, I mean. I get six months of maternity leave, so the baby will be older when it’s time.”
“You can’t do that,” Grandpa argued. “It’s not the nanny’s job.”
“It is if she pays her,” I argued. “That’s the definition of a job.”
“But … no.” He shook his head, fervent. “This is the sort of situation where Bart Savage is right. She should stay home. Derrick will bring home the bacon and she can feed it to the kid.”
Devon was appalled. “I make more money than he does.”
“Not everything is about money.”
“Ugh. I can’t even deal with this family,” Devon groused. “I just … who would’ve thought I agreed with you, Avery?” She sneered in my direction. “I never saw it coming.”
That made two of us. “I’m going to need cake to go with the prime rib,” I announced. “I’m feeling the need to eat my feelings.”
Eliot laughed. “Then you can clean the house when we get back while I put my feet up and watch the basketball game. That is your job, after all.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How far are you willing to push this?”
“I haven’t decided yet. If you could give me a hint when I get too close to the line that would be great.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll definitely give you a hint.” In the form of a kick to the behind.
“That’s all I ask.”
We lapsed into silence for a bit, everyone glaring at everyone else. Finally, Eliot leaned closer to me to whisper.
“I should probably sleep with one eye open tonight, huh?”
“And an athletic cup.”
“Good to know.”
24 Twenty-Four
I slept hard.
Fighting with my family takes it out of me.
Eliot stood with me for the entire argument — and the fact that Devon and I were on the same side was sobering — but everyone was testy with one another when we left, our bellies full of prime rib and my agitation firing on all cylinders.
We fell into bed, a sleep coma of sorts, not long after returning. After a full nine hours of slumber, I was ready to wake and greet the day.
“Hey.” Eliot stretched and gave me a sidelong look. “Are you growly this morning or cuddly?”
“I am never cuddly.”
“I beg to differ. After we binge-watched the entire season of Outlander you were cuddly. That show really does it for you ... even though you pretend you don’t watch it.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t like Outlander. I like ... learning about history with a time travel twist, and that’s one of my only options. There’s a difference.”
“You like that hot Scottish guy.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “Yes, well, he strips down so often I can’t look away. I don’t really like him, I just can’t not look at him.”
“That must be it.” He rolled to face me. “Do you want to talk about last night?”
That was a loaded question. “Do you want to talk about last night? Obviously you do or you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“I want to make sure you’re aware that I don’t want you to do any of the things your grandfather mentioned last night.”
“What about being ready for sex at the drop of a hat? I mean ... he did throw that in toward the tail end of the fight. Apparently he believes it’s a woman’s job to provide sex whenever the male asks.”
Eliot chuckled, the sound low and throaty. “To be fair, I think he threw that in because he wanted to see how far he could push you. I don’t think he believes that.”
“Oh, you don’t know. He’s a Neanderthal when he wants to be.”
“He might’ve been that way when he first got married, believed certain things because that was a sign of the times, but I very much doubt he would want that for his children and grandchildren.”
I wasn’t so sure. “I’m mad at him.”
“I know. The thing is, you love him. He’s a pain in the keister, but you truly love him. He loves you, too. There’s a reason he gravitates toward you.”
“Yes, he likes messing with me.”
“Besides that.”
“He likes loud people and I’m always ready to make a scene.”
Eliot’s hands snaked around my waist as he gave me a good tickle. “Besides that.”
I squirmed. “I’m coming up empty. You’ll have to give me a hint.”
“You entertain him ... and that’s what he cares about most. He also admires you. So, while he might have some antiquated ideas regarding gender roles, he wants what’s best for you. He would never deny that.”
I wanted to argue the point but I knew that it was a losing cause. “Ugh.” I buried my face in Eliot’s chest. “My family makes me tired.”
“You make me tired, but we still manage to make things work.”
“You like me and you know it.”
He laughed. “I do. I don’t want what happened last night to throw you off your game. You were already feeling susceptible to negative thoughts because you buried your inner scoop monster and let the story of the year pass.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t bring that up.”
“Well, I have no choice. I’m proud of the decision you made. It was the right one.”
“Then why do I feel so ... unsettled?”
“Because it doesn’t always come natural for you. That competitive streak you have — which you inherited from your grandfather, by the way — doesn’t allow you to lose gracefully. That’s why things got so out of control last night. No one in your family likes to lose.”
“That’s because losing sucks.”
“I don’t know. Do you remember when we played miniature golf this summer? I lost and we had a ball afterward.”
I smiled at the memory. “You made all those pirate jokes because we were at a pirate-themed course.”
“We had fun ... and I didn’t win.”
“Yeah, but I won and that’s joyous for everyone.”
He snickered before sobering. “Maybe this will be one of those occasions when everyone will win because you took a step back.”
I blinked several times as I absorbed his words. “Step back? I’m not stepping back. I’m digging deeper.”
“How?”
“There’s more to the story,” I replied without hesitation. “I don’t know exactly what that ‘more’ is, but I’m definitely going to find out.”
He sighed. “Of course you are.”
“I can’t let it go now. I need to know.”
“But what do you expect to uncover?”
I shrugged. “If those women are telling the truth, they deserve their day in court and Savage should be locked up. If those women are lying, that needs to come out, too.”
“Even though you don’t like him or the message he stands for?”
“That doesn’t mean he should go down for a rape he didn’t commit,” I pointed out. “That said, I think it’s more likely that Savage is as bad as we think, but he’s also smart. He knew he had to get ahead of the story and he used Ally as a pawn in his manipulation.”
“How are you going to prove that?”
“I don’t know. Yet. I’ll figure it out.”
His fingers glanced over my cheek as he shook his head. “You always do.”
“Yeah.” I grinned. “You said it yourself: I like to win.
”
“Well, I’ll help you win if I can. What do you want me to do?”
“I need to think about it.”
“Can you think about it in the shower and over breakfast? We should probably head downtown sooner. I expect the parking situation to be a mess today as more people show up for the protest.”
“Are you buying me breakfast?”
“Yup.”
“Then I’m in.”
“Somehow I knew you were going to say that.”
WE PARKED BEHIND ELIOT’S shop. He had a designated spot, which was to our benefit, and I dropped my computer in his office before wandering toward the front window. I was absolutely flabbergasted when I saw the sight playing out before me.
“Will you look at that?”
Eliot, perhaps recognizing the awe in my voice, skirted out from behind the counter and joined me. The look on his face when he took in the crowd — there had to be more than one-thousand people already gathered in the courtyard — was hard to explain.
“You have got to be kidding me.” He exhaled heavily. “This is going to blow up in spectacular fashion.”
I didn’t doubt that for a second. “I don’t even know where to start,” I admitted.
“I do.” Eliot pointed toward a truck parked in the prime spot closest to the courthouse. I recognized it immediately ... and the people standing in the open window toward the back.
“Oh, I’m going to ... !” I broke off and mimed a violent act. I had no idea what I was going to do, but odds were good it wouldn’t be pretty.
There, holding court in the middle of the melee, were Grandpa and Mario. They’d dusted off their food truck, driven it south and parked it in the middle of the protestors. The signs on the exterior boasted self-righteous burgers and rage-free eggs.
“I get the rage-free eggs thing,” Eliot noted. “You know, like cage-free.”
I shot him a quelling look. “Yeah. I got it.”
He poked my side. “Someone has the cranks this morning.”
“I don’t have the cranks. I ... ugh.” My annoyance spiked as Grandpa handed John Crawford what looked to be a breakfast sandwich. “Are they trying to kill me?”
Above the Fold & Below the Belt (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 14) Page 23
