by Emily Minton
Since then, she quit crying but has been watchful. If I moved, she did, too. I doubt she has been more than a few feet from me since she crawled out of bed. I’m guessing she is still thinking about the shit Kendra pulled. Even at six, she is making sure she is around to protect me if needed. That thought makes me want to bawl my eyes out.
I shut the oven door and turn on the timer before pulling the stepstool over to the sink and motioning at her to come over. “Okay, Cline, it’s time to wash the sauce off your hands. Then, we’ll go watch some TV until supper is ready.”
She does as she’s told, looking over to where we have two fresh apple pies cooling on the counter. “Can we have a piece of pie while we watch TV?”
Right after breakfast, one of the old ladies stopped by with two big bags of apples. To say I was shocked to discover an old lady grew her own apples would be an understatement, but I was happy to have the company, and Cline was more than happy to have her favorite fruit. As soon as the woman left, I started peeling and worked on the pies.
“Those are for after dinner,” I say, bending down to whisper my next words. “But, you may be able to talk me into giving you an extra piece before you go to bed.”
She smiles up at me, slinging water all over the place. I look down into her beautiful blue eyes, smiling back. In that instant, I realize just how attached I have gotten to her. I don’t think of her as just my man’s daughter. No, she is completely separate from Van. My love for her is hers alone, not having one damn thing to do with the way I feel about her father.
Shaking off the thoughts, I help her get her hands washed and dried. I am just pushing the stool back against the wall when I hear the sound of a motorcycle outside. My smile grows; I missed him, even though he has only been gone a few hours.
“Daddy’s home!” Cline shouts, clapping her hands with excitement.
I nod and grab her hand. We walk into the living room and wait for him to come inside. Denver comes barreling down the hall, stopping in his tracks beside the door. Brass is already standing there, a pensive look on his face. It worries me, but I ignore it. Worrying isn’t going to get me anywhere because he sure in the hell isn’t going to tell me what is going on.
“You’re staying for supper, aren’t you?” I ask, trying to focus on something else.
“I have heard the two of you in that kitchen for over an hour. I know what you’re making, and there’s no way I’d miss it,” he says, with a half-smile.
Brass hardly ever comes over for breakfast, but he eats dinner with us at least five nights a week. The few nights he does miss, he comes over in the morning to raid the fridge for leftovers. It didn’t take me long to figure out I need to make him a plate, even when he isn’t here.
Hearing the door open, Cline takes off running to meet her daddy. Van reacts just as she barrels into him, catching her and lifting her up in his arms. She peppers his face with kisses as he gives her ribs a quick tickle.
“Did you and Ronni have a good day today?” he asks, walking my way.
She nods her head frantically as she answers, “We made lasagna for dinner, and Uncle Brass is going to stay and eat with us.”
“Of course, he is,” Van says, putting her down. “When does Uncle Brass not stay when you and Ronni cook?”
“He can’t help it that he likes good food,” I say as he leans down and brushes his lips over mine.
I look into his bright blue eyes and bite my lip. I want to ask about my dad but don’t want to push him about it. He’ll tell me when he gets ready. At least, I hope he will.
“Your dad is doing good, but he is missing his girls,” he tells me, obviously reading my mind. “He gave me some good news for you.”
Before I can ask any questions, Cline pipes in. “Who’s your dad, Ronni?”
I don’t get the chance to answer her question because Van does it for me. “Gramps is Ronni’s dad, baby girl.”
“Gramps?” she breathes out, sounding amazed.
I’m a bit amazed myself. I knew Dad was close to Cline, but I had no idea he was her Gramps. I’m not sure why it surprises me, considering how much he talks about her. It warms my heart, knowing this wonderful little girl considers my father family.
“You need to get Erin on the phone and see when she can come,” Van states, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“What?” I whisper, excitement filling me from head to toe.
“Tito is cool with her coming down.” He wraps his arms around my waist and gives me a squeeze. “So, you need to be giving her a call.”
My mind starts running a million miles a minute, thinking of all the things I want her to bring me. When I left Chicago, I was only allowed two suitcases, and one of those had to be left in New York. I have worn the few clothes I have so many damn times; I’m tired of even looking at them.
“Do you want to go call Erin with me?” I ask, looking down at Cline. “You can invite her to come see us?”
She doesn’t hesitate before nodding and grabbing my hand. We walk into the living room, where the only computer in the house is sitting on a desk in the corner. Cline sits in the chair as I get Skype loaded and click on Erin’s name. It takes a minute to do its thing, and then my friend’s smiling face is on the screen.
When we appear on her end, she says, “Hey, sweetie. What are you doing today?”
After I finally convinced Van it was safe, I started making daily Skype calls to my girls. We still text and talk on the phone, but I love being able to see their faces. Cline has been here during more than a few of these calls, and she has quickly become enamored with both of my best friends.
“My Gramps said that you could come see us,” she says in a near shout. “Please, please, please, come see me.”
I can hear Brass and Van chuckle as Erin gives her quick agreement. “Of course, I’ll come visit you, sweet pea.”
Cline turns in her seat to look at her dad, a proud smile on her face. “Erin calls me sweet pea because I’m as sweet as peas.”
The guys chuckle again, but I focus my attention on my friend. “Do you think Kat can come, too?”
“This is finals week. No way she can get away.” Erin starts to shake her head, letting me know it’s not going to happen.
Shit, I should have known that. Being May, Kat’s whole life revolves around finals. If she isn’t preparing for them or giving them, she is grading. I wish she could come, too, but I understand.
“You’ve gotta hurry and get here. We made apple pies,” Cline says, not fully understanding that Erin doesn’t just live down the street.
“Erin will have to drive here, and it’ll take a few hours, so it probably won’t be today, honey,” I explain to her, hoping she will understand.
“That’s right, sweet pea,” Erin says as Cline’s lip starts to poke out in a pout. “It’s getting kinda late here, so I probably won’t leave until tomorrow morning.”
Van takes that as his cue to butt into the conversation. “You’re either flying, or I’m going to send someone to pick you up. I can’t take the chance of someone following you.”
Erin’s eyes go huge as she gets her first look at Van. “Fuck, please tell me you’re not Van. If you are, my girl is going to kick my ass for the things I’m fanaticizing about doing to you right at this moment.”
His lips tip up, but he doesn’t respond to her words. “Do you want a plane ticket, or would you rather a brother pick you up?”
Erin looks at him a second more before she catches a glimpse of Brass standing behind him and her eyes light up. “No flight. Send him. I’m sure he’ll make the trip interesting.”
I look back at Brass, seeing the cocky smile on his face. I let out a laugh, knowing having my friend here is going to be even more fun than I thought.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Veronica
My phone beeps with a text from Erin, letting me know she and Brass are only a few miles out of town. She should be here
soon but not soon enough. Cline has been crying all morning, knowing she was going to miss Erin’s arrival. When we first talked, my friend had planned to come the next day, but she had forgotten she had to go to court for some unpaid parking tickets. The one day Cline was told she was going to have to wait to see her turned into three. Now, it’s Sunday, and Cline has to go home with her mom.
“I want to see Erin,” Cline cries, looking up at me with sad puppy dog eyes.
Leaning my head down, I place a gentle kiss against her soft red hair. “I know, honey. I’m so sorry she couldn’t come sooner.”
Sitting on the couch, Cline has been cuddled to my side for the last half hour, crying her eyes out. She has been throwing a screaming fit ever since she got out bed. Gone was the little angel that I have known the last few weeks, and a fighting demon took her place. Denver hasn’t liked it either; he keeps trying to get in her lap, wanting to be close to her. I would like to think it’s all about missing Erin, but I think it’s more than that. In reality, she just doesn’t want to go back to her Mom’s house.
Heated voices make their way to my ears, reminding me that Van and Regina are arguing on the porch again. They have been going at it for nearly thirty minutes, and they just keep getting louder. Denver lifts his head, his ears perking up, as he keeps looking from me to the doorway. I pull Cline closer, covering her ears. I rock her back and forth, doing my best to comfort her, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.
As soon as I hear the door opening, my body jerks and I pull Cline tighter. I keep my eyes glued to the entrance to the living room until Van walks into the room. He looks at me, and it’s hard to tell anything by his expression. Until a big smile spreads across his face.
“I handled it, just like I said I would,” he states, not quite hiding the lingering anger in his voice.
“What?” Cline and I ask at the same time.
“After I talk to my lawyer in the morning, you won’t be seeing your mom for a while. Even then, she isn’t going to get more than visits at my house,” he tells Cline, coming over to pull her out of my arms. “I told you Daddy would fix everything.”
“Really?” he asks, placing her little hands on his unshaven cheeks.
“I promise, darlin’.” He nods, looking into her eyes. “You’re home, darlin’. This is where you’ll be staying all the time from now on.”
She lets out a sound of such relief that it tears my heart in two, then she drops her head onto his shoulder. He looks at me, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. My own tears are falling, knowing that he just performed a miracle. I keep looking at him, watching him fight the emotions trying to break free. I remember my dad telling me a man doesn’t cry, but he was wrong. This is the perfect time to cry.
“She is never gonna be mean to you again, baby girl. Never,” he says, not letting one single tear fall.
He talked to Cline a lot over the last week, asking questions but not pushing for answers. Only, last night, she broke down and told him how her mom had been treating her. It wasn’t terrible, not compared to what some kids go through, but it was bad enough.
The bitch told her she was going to grow up to be a piece of shit, just like her father, reminding me so much of my mom and Timothy. She also kept Cline on a strict diet, telling the six-year-old she was getting fat. Van seemed relieved, not happy but glad it wasn’t worse. I didn’t have the heart to tell him she wouldn’t admit the worst until she knew her mom couldn’t hurt her anymore.
He gives her a kiss on the cheek before releasing her. “Run on upstairs and wash your face. I don’t want to see any more tears when you come back.”
“Okay, Daddy,” she whispers, running out of the room like she’s on fire with Denver following behind her.
Van waits until she is out of the room, then comes over and sits down beside me. He pulls me into his arms, burying his face in my hair. His arms are so tight, I can barely breathe, but I refuse to move a muscle. Instead, I just pull in what little air I can get and let him take the comfort he needs.
“I could have killed her,” he mumbles, pulling away just enough to look at me. “I swear, I could have put a bullet right between that bitch’s eyes.”
“What happened?” I ask, almost scared of what his answer would be.
“I talked to her about the shit Cline told me, and she lost her fucking mind,” he says, his body taut with anger. “She started saying shit, crazy shit. She told me she should have aborted my daughter, said people would have considered it a public service to keep more trash from littering our streets.”
My stomach drops as bile works its way up my throat, knowing Cline had probably heard those exact words leave her mother’s lips. She may not understand exactly what they mean, but she knows enough for them to cause her a world’s worth of pain.
“What kind of mother would say shit like that?” he asks, looking completely confused. “Mom was fucked up, but she wasn’t that bad.”
“Mine did,” I say, without thinking of how my words will affect him. “She used to tell me that it would have been better if I was never born. It was like her mantra or something. By the time I was ten, Timothy and Miles were mimicking her.”
When he goes silent, I look up at him. His eyes are burning into me, filled with hatred for his daughter’s mother and the woman that gave birth to me. I understand how he feels because I feel the same way.
“How did you get her to let Cline stay?” I ask, wanting to know how he magically fixed everything.
He drops his head against the back of the couch and says, “I knew she had been up to something, so I had Ram follow her the last few days. She’s had a few meetings with the judge who presided over our custody case, and it just so happens that each of these meetings has been at a hotel off Buckhead Road. He was on my side last time we were in court. I guess she was trying to get him back on her side.”
I’m so shocked; I can do nothing more than stare at him. I just can’t wrap my head around it. She doesn’t want Cline, that much is obvious, but she is willing to sleep with the judge to get her away from Van. That just doesn’t make sense.
“We have another hearing at the end of July, to see how the shared custody is working. At that time, the judge was going to decide whether to make it permanent or let her get full custody again, leaving me with only every other weekend. Regina has never liked to lose, so she was ensuring that she would win. It didn’t matter that she had to suck a sixty-year-old man’s cock to ensure the win,” he says with a shrug.
“So, now she’s gonna hand Cline over?” I ask, my mind not able to comprehend everything he is saying.
It’s a stupid question, and I know that, but I can’t keep myself from asking. I just don’t understand how someone could turn their back on a child, especially one as wonderful as Cline. She’s perfect, even when she is crying and screaming. I’d walk through fire for her, let it burn me to the bone.
His arm on my shoulder pulls me closer as he answers, “I told her that I have pictures, so she thinks there is no way she can lie her way out of it. So, the answer is yes; she will just hand Cline over.”
I want to rejoice, but I just can’t wrap my head around it. “But, it’s Cline. Isn’t she going to at least try to fight for her? How the hell can she give up someone as special as Cline? That just doesn’t make any sense.”
I get it, I do. I realize being caught screwing the judge will look bad, but it’s not enough to keep a child away from her mother. Parents see their children, even when they do whacked-out shit. They do drugs, abuse their babies, even use their kids in ways no child should ever be used, and they still get to see them.
Screwing the judge isn’t really that huge of a deal, not in the grand scheme of things. For the judge, yes. He will probably lose his position, and he may even serve some time in jail. For Regina, no. She won’t get anything more than a slap on her wrist. Granted, she probably won’t be able to keep partial custody, but she would still be able to get visita
tions.
“Fuck, I’m glad my little girl has you fighting at her side,” he states without answering my question.
“Of course, she has me.” I reach up and run my hand through his auburn locks. “I just hate that she won’t have her momma.”
He leans down and brushes his lips over mine. “She’ll have a momma.”
Still not quite following him, I ask, “What do you mean?”
Before he can answer, the sound of a car pulling up hits my ears. I jump up from the couch, instinctively going to the window, seeing Brass’s truck parking out front. Excitement fills me as I realize one of my two best friends is here. I run to the edge of the stairs, deciding to think about how fucked-up Regina is later and let Cline know that Erin is here.
“Come on, Ronni. Erin’s here,” Cline squeals, running down the stairs. “She’s here, she’s here, she’s here!”
I follow behind, watching as she slings the door open. As soon as I see my friend climb from the truck, I start running. It only takes a minute to get to her. My arms wrap around her, pulling her close and inhaling her familiar scent.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper, still holding her.
She pulls back just a bit, looking into my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I think about her question. There are a million answers, but the one on the tip of my tongue is that Regina is a raging cunt. Suddenly, I realize that isn’t a problem. Yes, it’s something that we will have to deal with in the future, but for now, we have Cline and can make sure every waking moment of her life is filled with happiness.
I look to my right, seeing Cline standing right beside me. “Not a damn thing.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Veronica
Sitting on the bed in the guest room, I watch Erin unpack. She brought four suitcases, and I’m salivating to see what is in each one. My eyes are glued to everything she pulls out of her suitcase, knowing most are for me. When I see her toss out two boxes of hair dye, I nearly fall off the bed. Denver looks up from where he’s sleeping by the bed and lets out an annoyed sound, letting me know I interrupted his nap.
