by Finn, Emilia
“We’re not staying for close tonight, so no silverware. We’re leaving in twenty minutes, just as soon as Tammy arrives. So no to the pie, too.” Again her eyes come back to mine. “Do you mind?”
I clear my throat, sit back, and open my chest. “Do I mind what?”
“You’re sitting with my child, and for the next thousand days, he’s still a minor. I didn’t give you permission to sit there, so…” She waves her hand in a shooing motion. “Unless you wanna be arrested, escorted out of here and led straight to the police station, I suggest you skedaddle. The cops are my friends, so…”
Finally, Mac’s distracted gaze comes back up. “He’s helping me with this, Mom.” He taps his paper with a severely chewed pencil. “I invited him over, and he taught me how to work out the last one, so he’s not completely useless. Fuck if I get the logic, but we still got the answer, so…”
“Potty mouth, Macallistar! For frig’s sake, rein it in.”
He shrugs and pretends he’s not playing her. “Sorry.”
“You say you’re friends with the cops?” Arrogance drips from my tongue and draws the exotic beauty back around until her eyes lock onto mine. Exactly where I want her. “Chief Turner, Deputy Franks, all those friendly folks down at the local PD?” When her eyes flash with attitude, I run a hand through my hair and try to hide my grin. There are moments I’m allowed to be smug. And then there are moments I’d rather not gamble with my life. “They’re my pals too. You could probably call them and ask for a character witness, if you like. I’ll wait.”
“Or, you could get out of my son’s booth in the next three seconds before I move you myself.” I catch a glimpse of her cooks coming out to keep an eye on us, just like they did last night when Zeke was being the dick. “I’ll wait.”
“Mom!” Mac’s eyes widen with embarrassment. “What the fudge is going on? Cap is our friend, remember? He’s Team Fuck-with-Zeke too. You said we weren’t allowed to pick fights anymore. What gives?”
“I’m not picking fights, baby. I’m trying to make sure my son does his homework, on his own, with no strange men sliding in and making themselves at home. We already have man trouble. We aren’t inviting more in.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Leaning to the side, I pull my wallet out and flip it open. Taking out my driver’s license, my insurance, a credit card, and a debit card, I drop them to the table and meet her beautiful eyes. “You know my name is Eric DeWhit; I’m not a creep, and I’m not looking to hurt anyone’s kids.” When she doesn’t soften, I pick up my license and push it into her hand. “I’ve been coming in here for ages, so you know I’m not running out tomorrow just because you talked to me. The address says I’m over in the ‘burbs, though I don’t actually live there anymore. That’s Bishop’s place. I’m staying just up the street, literally a two-minute walk, in the apartment above the garage, and I’m renting it from Angelo Alesi, the guy who owns the garage. You know Alesi; he’s a local since forever. I used to be employed by the federal government, which means I passed a background check, and now I’m in security, employed by Kane Bishop at the Checkmate offices a couple blocks up. Pretty sure you know the Bishops, too.”
Bright red lipstick shimmers on her pouty bottom lip while Mac ducks his head low and pretends he doesn’t hear me snapping at his mom. I really should take my ass back to my booth and wait for my burger, but I can’t breathe properly unless I’m looking at this chick. I don’t understand her magic, and I really should get the fuck over it, but I’ve kept to myself for too long, minded my manners and left her be. But now I kinda don’t want to.
She’s not saying yes right now, but if she’d stop snapping at me, she might feel some of the pull I feel. She might agree to two minutes of selfishness that would make us both feel better.
“The Bishops?” She coughs to clear the nerves from her throat and lies straight to my face. “I don’t know the Bishops, but I heard they were trouble.”
I accept my card back with a humorless chuckle and slide it back into my wallet. “The Bishops are definitely trouble, so steer clear if you can, but they’re also legitimate businessmen, with a legitimate company and legitimate clients. One of them is dating a local lawyer, sister to your friendly PD, so he can’t be all bad, right?” She purses her lips like she knows I’m full of it. Kane Bishop really is all bad, and he ain’t sorry for it. “I’ve been living in this town for two years already, and I can prove that. But I seem new, since I was working for most of that time, and I was under orders to be quiet.”
“You don’t work anymore?” She folds her arms across her chest and inadvertently lifts her breasts. “You lazy?”
I can read Katrina like a damn book. Hard workers are attracted to hard workers, and she’s over deadbeats sniffing around hoping for a minute of her time. “No, I’m not lazy, and I’m not unemployed. I just decided to slow down, so to speak.”
“Well, ain’t that nice for you?” she sasses back. “Some of us don’t get a chance to slow down. Some of us have to run faster and faster just to keep up. You feel smug being able to chill?”
Mac’s wide eyes ping back and forth between the dueling adults.
“Do I look smug?” I lift my hands and open myself up. “You’re projecting, Katrina. Your ex came in here last night and made a dick of himself, so now you’re projecting your man issues on me. I’m not your enemy, and nothing he did was my fault.”
Katrina leans in closer and bats her son away when he tries to stop her. Bringing her eyes down to my level, she seethes, “Men are pigs. Every last one of them. And none of them deserve my time or get to sit with my kid.”
“You’re on the man hater train and vilify me for something someone else did to you.”
“Yup!” Reaching out, Katrina snaps Mac’s book closed and sweeps his shit into his backpack. The bell over the door jingles as a blonde chick in jeans and white sneakers rushes in. “Get up, baby. Tammy’s here, which means it’s time to knock off.”
Mac checks his watch with a frown, then huffs when she turns her evil glare on him. “We’re not supposed to leave for another half hour, Mom. I was in the middle of my homework.”
“Go to Tammy now, babe. Get a slice of pie, then move your tush.”
It’s like he knows she means business this time, because his games end, and he stops pressing her buttons. Lifting to his feet with an old-man grunt, he swings his bag over his shoulders and turns on a stiff leg to head for the front counter.
“I told you last night to stay out of my business,” Katrina growls. “That includes my kid. It especially includes him.”
“I’m not a threat to you. I was only trying to help.”
“Every man except my son and dad are threats to me. I’ve worked hard to get to where we are, to be free of my son’s father and his bullshit threats, but you stepping up for shit you know nothing about has caused problems for me. You have a pretty smile, Eric, big hands and a chest I wouldn’t mind touching if this was a different life. But it’s not. This is the life I get; these are the cards I was dealt, so you and your stupid hat aren’t gonna tempt me over to the dark side now.” Turning with a flourish, her unique scent wafting straight into my lungs, she unties her apron as she speeds into the hall.
She comes back a second later minus the apron, but with an added handbag and a dangerous glare for her kid. “Move, baby. And don’t talk to strangers again. We’ve been over this.”
Rolling his eyes, Mac follows his mom toward the door and flashes a peace sign as they exit.
“Well, shit.” I blow out an explosive exhale. “She gets intense fast, huh?”
“Don’t take it personally, son.” Ray turns in his seat as Katrina and Mac disappear out of sight. “She’s the kindest ice queen I ever met. Her heart is pure, but her protective streak is a mile wide and impenetrable. She has to be this way. She doesn’t get a choice.”
“I’m not a threat to her.”
He sips his coffee and glances outside into the darkness. “Our beau
tiful Katrina doesn’t want a man. She doesn’t need a man. And she especially doesn’t share her kid. Suggest you go back to your life and forget about her. She ain’t changing her ways now.”
Within a minute of the Blairs leaving, the new waitress drops my burger and fries in front of me, then on her second pass, she drops a fresh set of silverware. “Here you go, sugar. My name’s Tammy, and I’ll be your server for the rest of the night. You just call out if you need anything.”
“Wait.” I grab her narrow wrist before she can hurry away. “Why’d they rush out?” I nod toward the door. “I haven’t seen her leave this early… ever.”
“Dunno that they’re doing anything special.” Tammy tugs her hand free and tucks a pen behind her ear. “It’s Katrina’s birthday today, but I think they’re just going home to chill. They usually do movies and pie for the special occasions.”
8
Katrina
“You didn’t have to be so mean to him, Mom. He was only trying to be nice.”
“There’s no such thing, baby.” Opening the front door to the very same apartment I was born in, I kick my sneakers off with a grunt of relief and toss my bag onto the side table. At ease, Mac moves past me and dumps his bag in the middle of the floor. “There’s no such thing as a selfless man, honey. But we’re trying to change that, aren’t we?” I follow him into the living room and narrow my eyes at the mess he’s already made. “Pick your shit up right now before I go postal on you. You don’t have to mess up a room just because you’re in it.”
Letting out a dramatic sigh, Mac turns on his heels and throws his head back as though my request is the worst thing that could ever happen to him. Swinging an arm out, he snags his backpack and heads toward his bedroom. “That dude was only trying to be nice, Mom. He was nice last night when Zeke was being a dick, and he was nice tonight when I asked for help on my homework. He didn’t try to sell me drugs or touch my bathing suit areas once.”
“Mac!” I move into the hall. “Don’t say that shit!”
“Well, that’s what you’re implying!” He tosses his bag through his bedroom door, then comes back into the hall and heads straight for me. “You’re implying the dude is gonna groom me to be his little bitch or some shit. He was nice; he didn’t get too close; he didn’t touch me one single time, and if he did, I know how to defend myself.”
Stopping in front of me, my son almost forces me to look up. I’m not sure when that happened, but the swift passage of time both hurts and comforts me. “You’ve taught me to watch out for the predators. You put the fear of God inside my heart for stepping out of line. And you make sure my homework is done, or I face a firing squad. The dude explained the math question, then he let me do the second one on my own. And Ray was sitting there the whole time. You gotta learn to relax.”
“I don’t get to relax, babe.” I reach up and rest my hands on his strong shoulders. Staring into my son’s green eyes, I thank my lucky stars that he looks like my daddy and not Zeke. “I’ve been on alert since the day you were born, and I don’t get to step down again until you’re forty-five and have gone thirty consecutive days without getting into trouble.” The dimples beneath his lips pop when he smiles. “I especially don’t get to step down until you’re eighteen and a legal adult, and the way we’re going, you’re the reason I’m always on alert.”
“I haven’t done anything bad in forever! I’ve been good.”
“And yet, I got a call that you and Benny were fighting in the cafeteria.”
“We were sparring!” he protests. “We weren’t fighting other kids. We were fighting each other, which means it doesn’t count.”
“It does count!” I smack his arm and ignore the muscle that never used to be there. My son spends so much of his time in that gym now, it’s changing his youthful body in ways my heart can’t deal with. “Just because you and Benny are idiots doesn’t mean you get to fight on school property. Save it for the gym. Every time I get a call from the school, your counter begins again. Every time your counter begins, the more your mom’s poor heart breaks.” I hold my chest and let out a dramatic sigh. “You don’t want to be responsible for my broken heart, do you?”
“Oh, stop!” With a laugh, he walks around me and moves into the kitchen. Grabbing a small wrapped parcel from the counter and swinging by the fridge on the way past, my handsome son stops in front of me with a slice of chocolate mud cake with rainbow sprinkles and a small gift in rose gold wrapping paper. “Happy birthday, Momma.” He leans in and drops a gentle kiss on my cheek. “I love you so much. Thanks for always kicking my ass into line. Sometimes I bitch about it, but I know you’re looking out for me.”
This right here, this boy who’s turning into a man, he’s the reason I work so hard. To make sure he grows into someone he can respect. To be a good human being who works for what he wants and doesn’t steal, lie, or cheat to get there sooner.
“I love you, baby.”
Stealing my slice of cake and setting it on the counter, Mac turns back with a large grin and wide eyes. “Hurry and open your gift before Grandpa gets here.”
“What did you get me?” With shaking hands, I peel back the first fold. “Did you steal it, baby? You know I’ll march your ass to the police station and hand you over if you did.”
“Just open it, dummy.” Mac’s hair almost tickles my face, that’s how close he stands. “Hurry up.”
When I peel too slow, when I refuse to tear the wrapping, my bull-in-a-china-shop child grabs the lifted corner and tears the package open until I’m presented with a heart-shaped wooden box. The lid reads I love that you’re my mom painted in white, and the wood smells like it was freshly cut. “Baby.” Looking up with stupid emotion in my eyes, I grab his shoulder to pull him in for a hug. “I love it so much. Thank you.”
“Macchio helped me make it,” he says shyly. “I didn’t steal it or anything.”
“You were over at the farm last weekend?”
“Uh-huh, but it’s not a farm. I called him up and asked for help, so we went into the forest behind his house and found the exact right piece of wood. He helped me shape it on the lathe, then Miss Megan helped me paint the words.” He scrunches his nose. “We had to stop a couple times ‘cause her baby got hungry, and I had to excuse myself so she could feed him.”
“You probably didn’t have to leave, honey. Women know how to breastfeed without, ya know, pulling everything out.”
My poor, sweet, innocent son blushes tomato red and shakes his head. “No, it’s cool. I had time, and I didn’t wanna see her boobies. Macchio would’ve killed me if I looked.” He nods toward the box. “Look inside.”
“Inside?” The lid slides around on a swivel latch to reveal a small compartment and another small gift. “Honey?” I lay the box in Mac’s waiting hands, then lift the next gift and start peeling the paper back. His large eyes follow my every move, and his Adam’s apple bobs with nerves as I peel the paper back and reveal a necklace with seven rings.
“I worked in the gym for a little cash,” he admits shyly. “The Rollers paid me a hundred bucks to clean the machines, then I took my ass to the store and bought this. The rings represent long life, health, love, wealth, peace, good friends, and happiness.”
“Honey.” My heart pounds, because apart from my father, I’ve never met a good man. My son is still the class clown, the jokester, the risk taker, and according to gossip around his gym, the flirt. But he’s growing into a man who knows how to treat a lady. He’s growing to know how to love women right, and he’s leaving all of the Douglas bullshit at the door. “I love you so much, baby. I love that I’m your mom too.”
He rolls his eyes when I pull him in for a hug and smoosh my lips to his cheek. Groaning for show, he acts like hugging his mom is a hardship, but his arms wrap around my torso anyway. His breath warms my neck, and just for a second, my toes come off the floor as he lifts me up. “Happy birthday, Mom. Sorry you had to wait all the way till eight o’clock for it to start.”
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“It’s perfect this way, honey.” I drop back to flat feet and take pleasure in the way he instinctively wipes the red from his cheek. “My day doesn’t start until we’re together, so this is perfect.” When the front door handle rattles, I have a single moment to worry that Zeke is back, but then common sense invades, and I flash another smile. “Go open the door for Grandpa, baby. I’m going to order dinner, have a fast shower, then it’s time to get this show on the road.”
“What movie are we watching?” He heads across our small living room toward the door. “I know it’s your big day, but I’d rather watch Terminator over The Little Mermaid, if you feel me.”
“I don’t.” I turn away with a laugh when he groans and study the rings on my new necklace. Long life, health, love, wealth, peace, good friends, and happiness. I have my health, but I could do with a little of the wealth and friends, if anyone was offering.
“Hey, Grandpa.”
I lean against the counter and watch the bookends of my world embrace. George Blair is a widower now, quiet in his older years, though he’s not truly old by traditional standards. Word going around is that my father had somewhat of a Mac-inspired wild streak in his early years, but once he found my mom and settled down, he kept to himself and worked hard to provide for his family. It’s only if you look deep into his eyes can you see his wild side and the part of him that wishes he was still a twenty-one-year-old racing cars with his friends at Piper’s Lane.
“Hey, bud.” Handsome as always, tall and broad, my dad steps back and casts a searching glance in my direction. Our relationship suffered fourteen years ago, but once Mac had arrived and they met, we reconciled, because he was always my hero, and even with a broken heart, my daddy couldn’t walk away from me.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Sweetheart.” Slapping a hand on Mac’s shoulder and knocking him forward as he passes, Dad walks across the living room with a kind of nostalgic eye for the couch that is as original to this room as I am. When you’re young, single, and broke, you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and say no. You accept your daddy’s old couch and say thank you.
