“What is wrong with you?” Gina asked. “You've been acting out of it for days.” She walked further into the salon and slumped on one of the stylist's chairs. “Are you having some kind of crisis?”
“Crisis?” Shay asked, checking the time on her phone. 6:15 p.m.
“When I turned twenty-five, I remember I started freaking out. Wondering what I was going to do with myself and my life.”
“Really?” Shay said, putting her attention back on her aunt. “And how did you deal with it?”
“Well, I got a divorce and got a girlfriend, for starters,” Gina said, then laughed loudly at her own joke. Shay rolled her eyes at how easy Gina made it sound. Like changing your life that drastically was so simple and easy. She wished it was. “We should all go out to dinner,” Gina said.
“Now?” Shay asked, distracted.
“No, not now. With your cop. We should all go out to dinner. You, me, him and Thalia. That'd be a trip,” Gina said, smiling wickedly. “Does he like soul food? Fried chicken and collard greens?”
“Who doesn't?” Shay stood and threw up her hands in frustration. Her stomach was in knots and she just had to let the cat out of the bag. She couldn't take one more second of pretending that she didn't want to scream as loud as possible and rip out her own hair. “Gina, I have to tell you something.”
“Oh God,” Gina said, sitting upright in her seat, her eyes widening. “You're pregnant, aren't you?”
“What? No!” Shay said, a laugh bubbling up before she could stop it. She doubled over and grabbed her stomach, not able to control the hysterical laugh that forced its way out. The thought of being pregnant on top of everything else... she would probably just run screaming back to Bedford and ask them to lock her up and throw away the key.
“Well, spit it out already,” Gina said, fanning her face like she was relieved.
“I would if you would give me a chance to talk!” Shay exclaimed.
“So talk! Damn, girl.” Gina looked at her expectantly and Shay took a deep breath and opened her mouth, ready to finally get it all out.
Then a loud knock on the door startled the words right out of her.
“We're closed!” Gina yelled loudly enough for the dark figure outside the door to hear.
“It's Sam,” Shay said, saying the name for the first time in so long.
“Sam?” Gina furrowed her brows and then Shay watched the realization dawn on her. “No,” she whispered.
“He showed up on my birthday.” Shay bit down on her cheek, immediately feeling like shit that she hadn't told her aunt sooner. “I told him to come see you tonight.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Gina said, her face a mixture of anger and shock and something else, something deeper. Shay could see the glisten of tears in her aunt's eyes and she had to look away. She wasn't going to cry, no matter what.
“I wish I was,” Shay said, then turned and went to the door. She unlocked it and cracked it open, the cold air hitting her in the face like a slap.
“Hey there, baby girl,” Sam said, a cloud of cigarette smoke mingling with the night air around his head.
“Put that cigarette out,” she said, instantly annoyed at him. He smelled like he'd been drinking and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. He took another quick puff and then tossed the butt out into the street. Shay took a step back and opened the door wider, allowing him entrance into the salon. He strolled in like he owned the place, looking around and smiling a toothy grin.
“Looks real good in here. Real legit,” he said, his voice booming and filling up the small shop. “You done good, sister.” He turned to Gina, who was staring at him in a way that Shay could completely relate to. The first time she'd seen him, the mixture of emotions was paralyzing. She'd wanted to smack him, curse him out, and hug him hard all at the same time. Gina looked like she was going through the same range at that very second.
“What are you doing here?” Gina said, her voice shaking. Shay bit her cheek again, trying to keep herself from crumbling. To see her aunt so shaken hit her hard. She hadn't seen Gina in such a state since Shay's prison sentencing, when they'd given her only niece six years in prison.
“Can't a man come and see his family?” he asked, holding his arms out. “Am I going to get a hug or what?”
“I don't know yet,” Gina said.
“You both just as bad as each other,” he said, dropping his arms and looking between Shay and Gina. “Looking at me like I'm a stranger.”
“You may as well be,” Gina replied, finally pushing herself to standing. “I don't know why you're here and I'm not sure I want to know.”
“I'm here because my two favorite people are here,” he said, as charming as ever. But Shay knew the truth. He was there because he wanted something. He wasn't fooling Gina either. There was only so many times the fox could sneak into the henhouse before a smart person put up a fence. Shay wanted to trust her father, she wanted to believe that he had changed. But she wasn't stupid.
“I want him to come to Christmas,” Shay announced. “If he can stick around until then maybe we can all figure it out.”
“Christmas?” Gina asked warily.
“He can't just pop in and out for a day or two here and there and think we're going to drop everything for him,” Shay continued, then looked at her father even though it was difficult. “So are you going to stick around or not?”
“For you, Sugar, I'd do anything,” he said. “You know that.”
“Where were you then?” Gina asked, her voice rising. “When Sugar was locked up because of your sorry ass? Where were you then?”
“Now you know it wasn't safe for me in the city then,” he said smoothly. “I had to get out until it quieted down.”
“And to hell with all of us, huh? As long as your precious ass was safe, you didn't give a shit!” Gina jabbed her finger at him, her eyes flashing with anger.
“Now sister, I know you've had a time of it. Believe me, I feel terrible about what was going on. These fucking cops in this city had it out for me. They got to me the only way they could. And I tried to make it up to you, baby, didn't I?” he said, turning back to Shay. “I'm here now trying to fix it.”
“I don't know what you're trying to do,” Shay said with a shrug, but his words still lingered in her mind. He was saying everything right but she wasn't going to let it be that easy for him. If he wanted something from her, he was going to have to earn it. “But if you want to be family, you have to do family things.”
“I can do that,” he said, bobbing his head eagerly in agreement.
“Maybe I can't,” Gina said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Maybe I don't want you in my house.”
“Then me and Sugar can go do our own thing. We can go find a little restaurant somewhere and have our own Christmas together,” he said. “Fathers and daughters should be together on the holidays. That's the way it's meant to be.”
“Don't try to pull that shit,” Gina said. “She's practically my daughter, too, at this point. I'm having her with me for Christmas after all the years I spent without her, while she was in that hellhole.”
“We're going to have Christmas together,” Shay stated, shutting them both up. “Or else I'm not going to have Christmas with either of you.” She hadn't really thought about it much, but when she said it, it felt right. She didn't have any real plan, but being with Tate's big-ass, loving family on Christmas was suddenly sounding like a dream come true.
“That's real dirty of you, Sugar,” Gina said, glaring at her niece. But Shay didn't back down. Despite the fact that she was still angry at Sam, he was her father. She couldn't let him wander back into her life and not give him at least a fighting chance. She had to see if he'd changed. She had to see if there was any hope. And maybe, if there was, she would give him the dirty money that he'd come after. If he needed it that badly, she would give it to him. But he had to prove it first. She wasn't going to do anything for him until she had a reason to. That was the only
thing keeping her sanity in check.
Another knock on the door startled all of them.
“Jesus, are we having a party tonight?” Gina asked, pressing her hand to her forehead. “We're closed!” Gina yelled, slumping back in the stylist's chair. “I can't take any more surprises,” she said as Shay went to the door. The glass was opaque and foggy and she couldn't see who was standing on the other end. Distracted, she opened it a crack and didn't bother looking at who it was.
“Come back tomorrow and-” she started then stopped as her breath caught in her throat. Tate was staring down at her, his black hood over his head. She took a step back involuntarily and he pressed his big shoulder against the glass of the door, propping it open.
“You going to let me in?” he said, dragging his gaze from her lips to her eyes and back again.
“Now is... now is not a good time,” she managed to get out as a million thoughts rushed through her head at once. She wondered if he could or would arrest her father on sight. Did he have a standing warrant with the city? Had the statute of limitations run out? She had no idea.
“What's the matter, baby?” Tate said, his face changing at her tone. He was on alert and she knew there was nothing she could say that would stop what was about to happen. But she still tried.
“I'll be out in a minute and maybe I'll let you drive me home,” she said, trying to make the words light and flirty, but they came out flat and monotone.
“Is there somebody in there with you?” he asked,his mouth flattening into a straight line.
“Everything's going to be fine, sister,” Sam said, loud enough for both of them to hear. Shay raised her eyes to meet Tate's, feeling completely helpless as all of her lies blew up right in front of her face. “You don't got to be so suspicious.”
“I'll be whatever I damn well please,” Gina snapped back. “You can't come back here after all this time and expect nothing but a smile. It's not going to happen.”
“I'll be out in a minute,” Shay repeated to Tate, like a robot.
“Shay why are you standing there with the door open? I'm not paying to heat the outside,” Gina called out.
“Baby girl, you come back here and talk some sense into this aunt of yours,” Sam said and Tate clicked his tongue, the pieces falling into place.
“Let me in,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
“Just stay out of it, Tate,” she warned.
“No fucking way,” he said, pushing his shoulder into the door and opening it wider. He took a step inside and Shay had no choice but to let him. The room seemed to go completely silent as Tate's presence sapped up all the air. Gina shot a look at Shay as the two men surveyed each other. Both tall, both big in their own ways, but both completely different in almost every way that mattered. Tate's face didn't change, but his whole body went tense. Her father stiffened up as well, straightening his back and taking a step back.
He could smell a cop from a mile away.
“Gina, you remember my friend Tate,” Shay said, even though Tate hadn't taken his eyes off the giant elephant in the room. The elephant who was currently staring at her in shock and confusion and barely contained anger. “Tate, this is my father. Sam Spears.”
***
Suddenly it was all so clear. The reason why she'd been acting so strange and so distant. The reason why she kept lying to him. It was another man after all, but not in the way he'd been thinking. Tate studied the man in front of him, taking in his dark clothes and long coat. The clothes were designer and had once been nice, but now they were dated, wrinkled, and worn at the seams. His face was craggy, with deep lines beside his mouth and puffy circles under his cheeks. His eyes were red-rimmed, like he hadn't had sleep.
All in all, Sam Spears looked like he'd fallen hard from his perch as one of the most-wanted criminals in the city.
Briefly, Tate wondered if Sam was back to his old ways but he quickly shoved the thought aside, because it didn't really matter. The only thing that mattered was getting Shay away from the bastard. Sam Spears only meant trouble, especially to his daughter. Sam shifted, keeping his hands loose at his sides. He relaxed his body posture and a carefully carefree smile stretched over his face. Tate knew that he'd been made as a cop. His kind could tell Tate's kind from a mile away.
“Nice to meet you, man,” Sam lied easily. If Tate hadn't just seen the murder behind his eyes a split-second before, he might have actually believed Sam was sincere. “Any friend of my daughter's is a friend of mine.”
“Is that so?” Tate responded.
“We were just closing up, Tate,” Gina piped up from a salon chair in the center of the room. Tate didn't look at the petite woman when she spoke, though. He kept his eyes squarely on Sam. “If you don't mind.”
“He stopped by to see if I needed a ride home,” Shay explained in an oddly flat voice.
“She doesn't need a ride,” Sam said, his voice friendly, but his eyes anything but as he stared daggers at Tate. Breaking the eye contact, Tate turned to Shay. She wouldn't look at him at first, but then her eyes flicked up to meet his. She looked like a tiger caught in a trap, like she could snap at any moment. As he stared at her, he realized that he was angry at her. Sam was a piece of shit, but the worst part about it was that Shay was actually entertaining him. She was listening to whatever bullshit he was spewing and letting him back into her life.
She'd lied to him and kept him at arm's length because she was afraid of offending her father. She cared more about scaring her father off than being honest to the man who truly knew her the best. Tate couldn't help but feel betrayed. Even though she hadn't cheated in a sexual sense, she'd still betrayed him. She'd kept a major part of her life hidden, ran around behind his back, and put her father first.
Family was family. No one knew that better than him. But family wasn't always about genetics. Family was also about the ones who had your back and the ones who you could count on. He could be that for her. Shit, he wanted to be that for her. But she wouldn't let him. She hadn't even given him a chance.
That was fucked up.
She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip, like she was trying to figure out what to say to him. Like she was trying to figure out how to get rid of him. He didn't know what was worse – the betrayal or the fact that he was standing in the same room with Sam Spears and not arresting him.
“Tate,” she said, finally looking him in the eye. He stared her down, not giving an inch. He wasn't going to make it easy for her to fuck him over. He wasn't going to pretend not to be angry and he for damn sure wasn't going to pretend that her father was anything but a fucking leech. “I'll call you later.” To her credit, she didn't look away. She kept his gaze even as she stabbed him in the chest with her nonchalant words. “Please,” she added, her voice barely a whisper. The word was like another swift wound to the chest. She was cutting him down in bits and pieces, and he couldn't stand it anymore. He scoffed and turned back to her aunt and her father.
“You have a nice place here, Gina,” he said.
“I know,” Gina said, her eyes as hard as Sam's. Apparently, hatred of cops ran in the family. He couldn't blame them, he supposed, but then again, it wasn't his fault that Sam had chosen a life of crime and pulled them all in as well.
“You should take out the trash, though. It smells,” he said, as politely as he could muster before heading for the door. He would be well-behaved, for now. He wouldn't punch Sam Spears in the jaw, for now. Shay had made her choice and it wasn't Tate. He was going to take it as dignified as he possibly could. But he was pissed. He was beyond pissed. He was livid.
Shay followed him to the door and as he stepped out into the cold night, he felt a tug at the back of his leather jacket. He moved away from her touch, too afraid of saying something he was going to regret. So he stayed silent as she hung in the doorway, breathing heavy and gnawing at the inside of her cheek. Her breath hung in the air like a mist.
“I'll call you,” she repeated. Then she closed the d
oor and locked it behind her.
Chapter Eighteen
It was Christmas day but Tate wasn't in the mood for any kind of holiday cheer.
As Marvin Gaye crooned about purple snowflakes on the radio, Tate stood against the wall in the crowded living room at his parents' house. The huge tree that Big Jim always insisted on took up one huge corner of the room. Yasmine and Tiny squeezed together on the big puffy chair next to him on one side, and Aaron was in his wheelchair on the other side. Hector, Brandon, and Maria took up all the space on the couch, with Gennifer perching on the arm next to her mother. Mikhail stood next to Gennifer, his arms crossed over his chest like he owned the place.
The house was too small for all of them at one time, but that had never stopped them before. He could remember how crowded it had used to be when Hector, he, and Gennifer had all been at home. And there were other foster kids along the way, now all scattered to the wind, but it had always been crowded and noisy. There had rarely been time to think back in those days, let alone get lonely.
Big Jim had on the raggedy Santa hat that he'd had for years, sitting next to the tree in his faux-leather recliner like the king of his domain. The smell of Maria's Christmas turkey, still roasting in the oven, permeated the room and should have made the mood perfect. Unfortunately for Tate, Christmas wasn't at all perfect that year. He couldn't help being distracted from his family, despite wishing not to be. They were loud as always, all talking at once and laughing over each other, but he felt removed from it all. He couldn't sit back and enjoy it. He couldn't ignore the way that Mikhail and Gennifer kept sneaking love touches when they thought no one was looking. Seeing them made him think of the one person he didn't want to think about. And he wasn't blind to the fact that Hector kept checking his phone either, like he was hoping someone was going to text.
At least he wasn't the only one alone on Christmas.
It annoyed him that even when he was with his family, at a time when he should feel most at ease, that he couldn't truly enjoy it. He couldn't enjoy it because she hadn't texted or called, and he hadn't texted her either, but he still was angry as hell. She was the one that owed him some sort of apology. She was the one who had betrayed him. She was the one who was sneaking around like a criminal.
Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2) Page 29
