“Who's ready for presents?” Big Jim boomed out, snapping Tate's attention back to the here and now.
“Me!” Yasmine yelled out, holding up her hand. Tiny mimicked her silently, holding up her hand and wagging her fingers, like they were in a school classroom. Tate glanced down at his younger sisters, their excitement overshadowing his own grumpiness for a moment. That was, until he thought about how much they reminded him of Shay, which was so fucking wrong, but true. Tiny was only two years younger than her, after all, although there was something about Shay that seemed much older, somehow. She could be so serious and grave when she got it in her mind to be. He liked when she would surprise him and lighten up and revert back to the way she should have been all along. Tiny looked up at him, raising her eyebrows as she caught him staring. He gave her a small smile and she made a quick sign that was one of the only ones everybody in the family knew by heart.
“Love you,” she said, mouthing the words as she signed. He nodded and she winked at him, before turning and catching the present that Big Jim tossed at her. His smile faded as the girls ripped into their presents. Big Jim tossed another to Brandon, who was doing his best to look like he didn't give a shit. Tate stared at his little foster brother until the kid looked up at caught his gaze. Brandon shrugged and Tate narrowed his eyes at him until the kid rolled his eyes and smiled. Tate wanted to let him know that it was okay to enjoy the moment. Just because he was with his new family didn't mean he'd forgotten the old one. He didn't have to be tough all the time. But that was hard to put in words, especially across a crowded room. So he just gave him a look but Brandon got it, just the same.
***
Shay let her mind wander as she scrubbed the dishes in her aunt's tiny sink. She could hear Gina and Thalia giggling in the living room like two teenagers, as Celine Dion's Christmas album played in the background. It had been a good Christmas. Almost like old times, actually. She almost couldn't believe she was actually back in her aunt's apartment opening presents on Christmas morning and baking cookies and eating glazed ham and macaroni and cheese like nothing had ever changed. She could almost pretend she was a kid again, with no worries or stress. As she dipped the plate in her hand under the soapy water, there was only one teeny, tiny thought that kept the happiness from being complete.
As always, it was a certain someone that was never far from her thoughts. A certain someone who hadn't called or texted all day, even though it was Christmas. He'd been angry at her, true, and she didn't entirely blame him. In fact, as the days passed with no word from him, it almost was a comfort. She was getting less and less worried about a horde of cops coming and banging down Gina's door and shaking the place down. Not that she thought Tate would really do that to her, but she'd be a liar if she said she didn't have visions of it.
And she did miss him, after all.
She was used to missing people. Shit, loneliness had been a good friend of hers for six years, but for some reason, being away from him for three days felt like she was missing a limb or something. She didn't like sleeping alone. And she definitely didn't like being celibate after all the good sex she'd been having lately. If she closed her eyes, she could practically feel his mouth on her. Just the thought of him licking and sucking on her was enough to get her all hot and bothered. She was in the middle of Christmas with her family, but he still had that hold on her. Even when she was eating and laughing and opening presents and pretending to be the happiest girl in the world, she was thinking about Tate. That was the sad reality.
“A penny for your thoughts,” a deep voice said behind her and she felt herself tense. She still wasn't used to him being there.
“I'm not thinking anything,” she murmured. “Just trying to get these dishes clean.”
“I don't believe you, Sugar,” Sam said, chewing on a toothpick. He leaned against the counter and the strong smell of his cologne brought on a new flux of old memories. It was almost like she was fourteen years old again, in the kitchen of their old place, making him a hot dinner in her mother's place. It was weird how easily it was to be transported back to the past by something as simple as the smell of someone's cologne. “You didn't used to be so quiet,” he continued and she could feel his eyes on her. She turned around to look at him and smiled.
“I'm not like how I used to be,” she said.
“Yeah. You all grown up now,” Sam said. “I miss my loud, rude little Sugar.”
“You miss that, huh?” Shay said with a light laugh. She tossed the sponge on the side of the sink and plopped her hands on her hips. “We used to argue all the time.”
“Now, it wasn't always like that,” he said, shaking his head. “We had it out, but in the end, we was always there for each other. We was a family.” Shay felt her smile fade a bit at his words. She wanted so badly to just be happy that her father was there, and she was free and everything was so wonderful on the surface. But just below the happy facade, there was still so much ugliness that they hadn't dealt with or even begun to talk about. He wanted to be a family again, because it suited him. But Shay had gone so long without him that she was beginning to wonder if she even needed him at all. That, and she was still wondering what his true intentions for reappearing were.
“What are you two doing in here?” Gina said from the doorway, an empty wine glass in her hand. “You get enough to eat?” Gina asked, eyeing Sam. Shay could see the wariness in her aunt's face. They'd been pretending all day that nothing was wrong and the cracks were beginning to show. “You look too skinny,” Gina said, holding her hand out. Shay handed her the half-empty wine bottle without thinking, knowing that wine was probably the only thing keeping her aunt's nerves in check. Well, wine and Thalia.
“If I eat any more, I'm gonna bust at the seams,” Sam said. “My daughter sure knows how to cook. She must've got that from her mama.”
“And Bedford,” Shay couldn't stop herself from chiming in. “At the prison, I worked in the kitchen.” For a second, the only sound was Gina's wine sloshing in the glass as she poured herself a healthy refill. Sam stared at Shay, blinking his eyes rapidly like he couldn't figure out anything to say. “Five and half years, washing dishes and cooking boring-ass meals. It's like second nature now.”
“Well... I'm sure the ladies up at Bedford were real lucky you got to cook for them,” Sam finally said. “They don't know how lucky they were.”
“Cheers to that,” Gina said, holding up her glass and then taking a big swallow.
“Sister, you got anything stronger than that wine?” Sam said, his eyes darting around the kitchen. “We should do a Christmas toast.”
“Nope,” Gina said with a shrug. “You know I don't drink hard liquor.”
“You always used to keep a bottle around for when I came around,” Sam said with a laugh.
“Well you ain't been around in a long time, Brother,” Gina said pointedly. Shay felt her stomach dip, a bad feeling coming over her. She could feel the tension all around her and she knew something was about to happen. She wasn't sure what. She just knew that she wanted to know what her father was up to. She wanted to know when he was going to disappear again.
She also wanted to know why he'd disappeared in the first place.
Well, she already knew, but she just wanted to hear him say it.
“I'm gonna go use the bathroom,” Sam said after a minute. Gina narrowed her eyes, but stepped aside to let him escape from the small room. Shay crossed her arms over her chest and caught Gina's eyes over the rim of her wine glass.
“Isn't this nice?” Gina said when she swallowed another long sip of wine. “I love the holidays, don't you?”
“No,” Shay said. “I hate them.”
“Me, too,” Gina said with a laugh, then slipped her free hand around her niece's waist and pulled her close. “But this year, we're here and that's all that matters.” Shay snagged the wine bottle off the counter and clinked it against Gina's glass.
“Yes, ma'am,” she said then took a long drink straig
ht from the bottle. Then she scrunched up her nose as the overly sweet wine hitting her tongue. “How can you drink this, auntie? It's like grape juice.”
“Don't hate on my Moscato,” Gina said, squeezing Shay tighter. “It may not be fancy, but it tastes good.”
“Whatever you say,” Shay muttered under her breath but she couldn't help but smile and take another cringe-worthy drink. “Are you going to ask him to stay?” she asked when after she swallowed. Gina shrugged and slipped away from Shay, on her way back to the living room.
“Let's just see how it goes,” she murmured, so low that Shay almost didn't hear what she said.
***
Snowflakes were lightly falling from the sky above and the cracks between the stones in the patio were already turning white. Tate wrapped his arms around himself, watching white flakes dot his black sweater. Aaron sat beside him, parked in his chair beside the house as he dug around and unearthed a joint from the bag on the back of his chair. He lit a match, the flame from his turning the night orange for a moment. Aaron took a long drag, settling back in his chair and staring up at the dark sky.
“I can't believe it's Christmas again,” he murmured, smoke rolling out from between his lips. “Another year gone, man.”
“It's not over yet,” Tate said, clicking his tongue in disapproval. He disliked his brother's propensity to smoke, but he knew Aaron was in daily pain. The kid tried to hide it, but everyone knew. Everyone generally gave Aaron a wide berth in general. Out of all the kids, he'd had one of the shittiest lots in life handed to him. One couldn't really blame him for how it had all turned out.
“What's your deal, man?” Aaron said after a moment, his voice strained like he was trying not to cough. “You're in a mood.” Tate shook his head, not feeling particularly chatty. “It's the most wonderful time of the year, ain't it?” Aaron said, then laughed. His snide laugh didn't sound very cheerful, though. Rather, it sounded just as bitter as Tate felt. Aaron was the sarcastic type, but he wasn't usually self-pitying. Although Tate was feeling like shit, he immediately honed in on his brother's vibe.
“Is it a girl?” Tate asked, before Aaron could ask him the same question. Aaron snorted out another laugh and then took another drag.
“A girl...” Aaron said, letting his voice trail off. “No. There's no girl.”
“A woman then? You always did like them older,” Tate said, trying a lame attempt at a joke.
“Nurses don't count,” Aaron said, smoke floating out of his mouth and obscuring his face.
“Don't they?” Tate asked. “I remember the one from the Bronx. What was her name?”
“They were all from the Bronx,” Aaron said, but this time, a smile was creeping over his lips.
“The one from Barbados,” Tate said. “With the eyes.”
“Uh... Charity,” Aaron said after a minute, staring upward at the sky again like he had to think hard to remember. “She liked Hector.” Aaron shook his head, remembering. “She was cool, though.” Tate nodded, staying silent in the hopes that Aaron would talk to fill up the quiet. It was a detective tactic, to get a suspect to talk, but he wasn't against using it on family. Aaron let out a heavy sigh like he had more to say, but then narrowed his eyes at Tate, catching on. “We were talking about you, though. Not me, man.” Tate bit down on his cheek to prevent a smile that would give him away. Aaron knew him too well to trick. The tactic usually worked on Hector, though, but Hector liked to talk about his problems.
“There's nothing to talk about,” Tate said. Then he kicked at a snowy stone and felt better when he sent it flying across the yard. “I'm getting tired of this fucking New York weather. Maybe I'll move to California. Go fuck around on a beach and get a tan.”
“You couldn't get a tan if your life depended on it,” Aaron said. Tate shrugged, knowing it was true. His skin had always been paler than pale. No amount of sun would ever get him to Aaron or even Yasmine's complexion. It was hard being the whitest person in the family, even if he wasn't really all that white. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst all the brown and black faces. “Hector says you've been hanging around some chick at the gym,” Aaron said slyly, taking another hit.
“Oh yeah?” Tate said, cocking his head. “What else does Hector say?”
“Hector says a lot of shit,” Aaron said mysteriously. “But I don't know if I believe that a chick is giving you the time of day. Especially not the kind of chick Hector described.”
“How did he describe her?” Tate said, well aware that he was falling into the trap his brother was setting up for him, but wanting to know anyway.
“Dark-skinned. Long hair. Buenisima...” Aaron trailed off, blowing out a puff of smoke.
“I don't know who he's talking about,” Tate said.
“I bet you don't,” Aaron said, not believing him for a second. “She's in Gennifer's class.”
“Who's in my class?” a female voice rang out. Tate groaned inwardly as Gennifer stepped out into the night, a beer in her hand.
“This chick Hector says Tate wants to hook up with,” Aaron said, stubbing out his joint on the rubber tire of his chair.
“Oh,” Gennifer said. It was dark, and Tate couldn't completely see her expression, but he was pretty sure she knew exactly who Aaron was talking about. “Damn, it's cold,” she said, stamping her feet on the stone patio. “Why are you two hiding out here?”
“Not hiding,” Aaron said. “Just needed some air.”
“You're not fooling anybody,” Gennifer replied.
“It's medicinal,” Aaron said with a lazy laugh. “Don't change the subject.”
“What exactly was the subject?” Gennifer asked lightly.
“Tate's lack of game,” Aaron replied matter-of-factly. “I want to know who this girl is.”
“Sounds like Hector already told you everything,” Gennifer said.
“All he said was that Tate was hanging out with a girl in your class. A hot girl. Buenisima was his exact word,” Aaron said.
“There's a lot of hot women in my class,” Gennifer said and Tate ducked his head to hide his smile. Gennifer could always be counted on to be difficult. “Erica's younger sister is in my class. She goes to NYU, just like you. She's pretty hot.”
“Yeah but she's white and Tate's girl isn't, so that rules her out,” Aaron said, but his voice was harder, more clipped.
“But you think she's hot?” Gennifer asked.
“No,” Aaron said, not giving an inch. Gennifer tsked at him and then turned back to Tate.
“I thought you were dating someone Austin set you up with?” Gennifer said, taking a sip of her beer.
“Who?” Aaron asked, leaning forward in his chair.
“Two dates,” Tate replied. “That was all.”
“Then who was Hector talking about?” Aaron said with a laugh. “Because you got less game than I do and I can't imagine a woman like that giving you the time of day.”
“It's not all about game,” Gennifer piped up. “Sometimes it's just a look. Or a feeling.” She tapped her nails on the glass of the beer bottle. “Look at Hector. He can get anything he wants with a smile, but Erica's still not giving him the time of day.”
“He fucked that up,” Aaron said, rolling forward and backwards in his chair like he was antsy. Inside the house, Tate could hear the clinking and clanging of dishes and pots and pans and loud annoyed voices. Yasmine and Brandon were on kitchen duty, and the two argued like cats and dogs generally. The holidays were no exception.
“You two think women are so difficult,” Gennifer said. “You're the ones who are difficult.”
“Do I hear the pot calling the kettle black?” Aaron asked, laughing raspily. “Maybe we should get Mikhail out here and ask him how difficult you are.”
“Well maybe I learned how to be less difficult,” she replied, smacking Aaron's shoulder. “You should try it, pobrecito.”
“Nah,” Aaron said, shaking his head stubbornly. “Being an asshole works for me.”
&n
bsp; “What about you, Tate? Is it working for you?” Gennifer asked, turning her sharp eyes on him. He immediately wondered if she knew. If Hector knew, Gennifer probably knew. He wondered how obvious it was that he was shook up over Shay. He also wondered how, if his feelings were so obvious, everyone could see it except for the one person who really mattered. He clenched his hands, thinking about the last time he'd talked to her. She'd made it clear that she didn't give a shit about him or what he had to say.
“It's cold,” he said, not bothering to answer Gennifer's question.
“I'm done,” Aaron said, stubbing out the butt of his joint on his right wheel. “Let's go inside.” Tate nodded and Aaron released his brake. He rolled himself toward the door and Tate hauled the chair up over the step without a word. Aaron pushed his way back into the kitchen and Tate took a step back to let Gennifer go inside first. As she passed him, she nudged her shoulder against his chest before stopping in the doorway.
“She looks at you too, you know,” she said knowingly.
“Who?” he said, even though he knew exactly who she was talking about.
“You know who,” she said. “She doesn't come around often, but I see it. Whenever your back is turned, her eyes are on you. And I see how you act around her. You're not fooling anybody.” Tate didn't answer, just let his sister's words sink in. Before, he would've thought that Shay was just fucking with him, but now he wanted to know. He wanted to know if Shay still wanted him as much as he wanted her. She wasn't acting like it, but like Gennifer said, maybe it was more about looks and feelings as opposed to words. “You should ask her out. I bet she would say yes,” Gennifer continued. Then she turned and went in the house. Tate stayed behind for a minute, a thought occurring to him as he stood out in the softly falling snow.
Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2) Page 30
