Maxed Steel
Page 11
* * *
Once everyone is gone—everyone except for the littles still crashed on the living room floor, sleepover style, just like the nine of us grew up doing. Mom and Dad are still up because, like Amias, they hate missing moments, too. I wait for them to come sit down on the couch and turn off the TV.
“Got a lot going on up here.” I tap the side of my head. “Having a rough time trying to decide what avenue to take, but I know both lead to her.”
“Miller?” Dad asks.
“Mila Miller, yeah.” I stand up and stretch one arm across my body then the other, trying to release some of the tension. “I knew I liked her, even after we had sex.”
“Max,” Mom scolds softly.
“Sorry, Mom, but I knew I liked sex. I knew girls liked me to give it to them,” I half-joke, but shit was the reality.
“So, what’s the issue? She doesn’t like sex any more, or she just doesn’t want you giving it to her?” Dad asks, trying to remain serious.
Mom elbows him, knowing he’s amused.
“Haven’t had a complaint in my life. But not the point.” I explain what she said to me about the colleges then the DUI that I had to explain away.
“She know you’re telling the truth?” Dad asks.
“Yeah.” I stop pacing and look at them. “Still throwing no’s and a threat of a restraining order if I—”
“She what?” Mom gasps.
“It’s cool now. After I stowed away and—”
“You what?” she gasps again.
“Mom, chill. I knew she was full of shit. I knew she was still into me.” I wave my hand in front of me. “I mean, come on; look at me.”
“Max, I have never been angry with you in my life, and I love your father, but I am going to tell you right now, don’t act like him.”
“C? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Dad asks, trying to act pissed. He’s not; he is clearly amused.
Mom rolls her eyes at him. “Oh, please, you and your confidence, and … words, and …” She stops and looks back at me. “This is a different world now. You have to approach these situations with kid gloves.”
Fuck it, I think as I walk over, sit in the chair across from them, and clear my throat. “I need to handle this on my own, without interference.”
“But if she’s threatening—”
“A man knows when a woman wants him. He also knows when she’s playing hard to get. Miller and I had a good thing, and we will again.”
“Max …” Mom shakes her head.
“Mom, she’s throwing up waves, thinking I won’t attempt to surf them.”
“Max, please listen to—”
“Every guy who’s tried to get with her knows she has someone at home. Sal.” I shake my head. “She’s—”
“Dating someone? Living with him?” Mom whispers.
“She’s trying to keep me away to protect herself from who she thought I was, and—”
“If she’s giving you time, she’s still interested, Max,” Dad interrupts me. “You want her for real, keep showing her you’re interested and give her space and time. But not too much.”
“As much as she needs,” Mom corrects him.
“Yeah, about that whole space and time thing.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to waste time, and I sure as hell am not down with the space.”
“But, if she has someone else, she needs both, Max. Just be a gentleman and—”
“That someone else? Sal? She is two years old. It’s not some guy like she has everyone believing. It’s Saylor, and she’s the most beautiful little girl on the planet.”
I look up at them, both wide-eyed. “I saw her today when Mila made me drop her off in front of some convenience store near her place. She left her coupon binder,” I say with disgust, “in my truck, and I circled around the block to give it back, because she was tripping really hard on its importance earlier.” I now get it. She has to save money. “Saw the dark, curly-haired little one running to her and diving into her arms. Didn’t get out of my truck. Couldn’t fucking move for a second, actually. Then, when her sister, who apparently watches her, left the two, I took the binder and went to her.”
“Is she yours?” Dad asks.
I hit my chest with my fist. “Here, right here, they both are. But I wasn’t getting answers in front of Saylor, and she told me we’d talk when I pick her up on Monday, to head back to school.”
“Her sister takes care of Saylor while she’s away at school?” Dad asks.
I nod. “Guessing her aunt does, too.”
“Does she …?” Mom starts then gets choked up.
I know exactly what she’s asking. “She looks like she’s mine, yeah. But when I messaged earlier and asked, she said she didn’t know.”
“Would it matter if she wasn’t yours?” Dad asks.
I shake my head and hit my hand to my chest again.
“Then I see no problem. I say full Steel ahead.” Mom smiles as she bats a tear away.
“What about all that don’t act like your father shit, C?” Dad asks.
“Oh, shush,” she huffs.
After a few silent, reflective moments, I laugh. “Her truck is a piece of shit, and I’m about ready to go buy something safer for her and Saylor. Her place is rent-controlled, and I wanna move her into a fucking home, not—”
“Okay, so full steel ahead meant, talk to her. Tell her, regardless of who Saylor’s biological father is, you’re ready to be committed to her and Saylor. Then the two of you plan together.”
I stand my ground. “I’m doing the car thing now.”
Mom covers her face with her hand and laughs.
“The rest goes slower until I get a DNA test.”
She pulls her hand away. “I thought—”
“Marcello slept with her, too. If my Saylor is biologically linked to him, I want to know.”
“That motherfucker,” comes from behind me.
“Jesus, here we go,” I mumble.
“Oh, don’t you Jesus Christ me.” Kiki stomps out and sits on the arm of the chair. “I’m going to be beside you every step of the way.”
“Behind me,” I correct her.
She waves a hand in front of her dismissively. “Whatever.”
The Park
Mila
Two hands slap against my cheeks and turn my head. “Mommy tired?”
“No. I just know I’m going to be missing my little girl when I head back to school.” And I haven’t slept uninterrupted since Max showed up at JU.
“I come?”
“Not yet.” Because there is no family housing at JU and nothing affordable to rent close by.
“But you come home and play soon?”
“Of course.”
“And Santa time?”
“Always.”
“And hot sparkly time?” she asks, referring to the summer or, more specifically, the Fourth of July.
“Forever.”
“And go on a boat time?”
“You mean my favorite day of the year? Your birthday?” I ask as I lean in and blow a raspberry on her cheek.
She laughs as I grab a wipe and clean off her face and hands, and then mine, too.
She slides off my lap and pulls on my hand. “Swing me, Mommy.”
I shove the remainder of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich in its reusable baggy, the used wipe in the old plastic grocery bag I use for trash, and then shove them both in the diaper bag that I still use to carry wipes for her sticky face, juice boxes in case some of the neighborhood kids ask, and snacks for the same reason. I throw the bag over my shoulder and let Saylor pull me toward the toddler swings.
After putting her in the seat, I pull her back and release her as she squeals in delight at such a simple thing.
Her hair —which Aunt Pam insisted I have cut short because Saylor throws a fit when it has to be brushed by anyone but me— blows around as she swings back. I have to remind myself to make sure the detangler is right by the tub, becau
se Aunt Pam will need it since I couldn’t bring myself to have more than an inch cut off.
“High, Mommy, high!” she yells.
“Okay, Saylor, hang on,” I tell her as I push, but not any higher, in fear the old swing will break and she will fall to the ground and break her leg, like I did the summer before junior high.
“She’s beautiful,” someone says as they put their little boy in the swing beside us.
“Thanks. He’s a doll, too,” I respond, not really looking but truly believing all kids are beautiful, even when Cia thinks they all look like trolls or cartoon characters.
She laughs, and I realize she knows I didn’t look at him.
“Sorry, I just have this weird fear that this thing is gonna break the second I look away and I won’t be able to catch her, you know?”
“Totally get it.”
“Can I push her?” an older boy’s voice comes from behind me.
“Thank you, but I got it.”
“I promise I won’t look away, either. If it breaks, I’ll catch her.”
“Archer,” the woman scolds softly. “You can’t just roll up on someone who doesn’t know you and ask to push their kid.”
“Why?” he huffs, and I am about two seconds from grabbing Saylor and getting the hell out of there. “I’m not some bad guy. I’m one of the good ones.”
“Because she doesn’t know that, and she’s protecting what’s hers.”
Okay, fuck this, I think as I stop the swing.
“We’ve got to get going anyway.”
“No, Mommy. More swings. Higher.”
The woman beside me whispers, “You’re good, Mila. Saylor’s good.”
Swing in my hands, I whip around and look up at the woman, immediately recognizing her. Bella Steel.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Just a quick chat.” She nods toward something, and I see her husband and a girl push off the one tree planted in the little park and walk toward us.
“I really don’t have a lot of time.”
“Give me ten minutes. Tags will push Saylor, Luna will insist on doing it instead—she loves kids. Archer will push his brother, Apollo, and not one person within a twenty-mile radius will approach them with my hot but scary as hell looking husband standing here.”
“I’m sure you don’t get this, but I’m not worried about the people around here. I’m more worried about people like you.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, sweetheart, drop the pretense and give me ten minutes.”
I look around me and see them all, unmoving, and my eyes land on who I assume is Luna, smiling sweetly as she asks, “Can I push her? I promise I’ll be careful.”
I glare at Bella. “You have five.”
As soon as my butt hits the bench, I tell her, “I do not appreciate this.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll get over it.”
I turn and face her. “You might want to look around and see where you’re at. It may not look like shit to you, but it is home to me, my family, and my daughter. If I want you out of here, twenty men who are just as scary as your husband will be here and see we get back to our place.”
“Gotta ask what in the actual hell do you think me and my three kids are going to do to you and that little girl who is probably going to be my family?”
“Probably?” I nod in understanding.
“Okay, fine, definitely.”
“That makes it no better.”
“Well, it’s not a lie.”
I get immediately that she thinks I’m a liar. “Don’t judge me.”
“Gotta know the side to be a judge of anything. Let me hear yours.”
“So, he’s going to drag us through this, huh?” I shake my head. “Get your team of lawyers to suit up. I’ll defend myself.”
As I start to stand, she places a hand on my knee, stopping me.
“She deserves to know Max. She does, just like I deserved to know my father before I was eight. That’s my dog in this fight, Mila—me. And I’m sure Auntie Pam is enjoying this shit.”
“You back off my aunt. She’s put her life on hold for us.”
“I’m well aware of what she’s putting on hold. She did it to me, too. And, Mila, I will fight for Saylor, just like I wished my dad could have afforded to fight for me.”
“What the hell are you even talking about?”
“My mom, Charlee, died giving birth to me at eighteen. My father, Max’s father, was seventeen. His parents fought for shared custody to the point they had to sell their family home. Then our grandfather, Jonathon, died in a hurricane that wiped out their little restaurant. My grandmother and her sons opened a tattoo shop, because they couldn’t afford to reopen as a restaurant. My family didn’t have money, then. They ended up inheriting it from our grandmother’s estranged family in Italy. The story’s much more detailed than that, but I can promise you that it does affect you. My mother’s best friend used to sneak my father pictures of me, and eventually, they started hooking up. Whenever he tried to break up with her, she would stop communicating with him about me. She used me to get to him. Ask me her name, Mila.”
“What does this have to do—”
“Aunt Pam,” she interrupts me and, with disgust, answers her own question.
“Bella?” comes from behind me, and I turn around.
Aunt Pam is walking toward us, cane in hand.
I stand up and hurry toward her, hoping she doesn’t fall. “I don’t think you should be here. Let me grab Saylor, and we’ll get inside.”
She shakes her head and slowly walks toward the bench.
I look at Bella, whose shock is evident.
“I want you to leave,” I tell her.
“Not yet.” Tears fill Pam’s eyes. “I’d like a few minutes with Isabella.”
The hurt in her eyes causes me pain. “You don’t have to do this.”
“But I do, Mila.”
I watch Pam move with slow, cautious steps, realizing she is getting slower and weaker by the minute.
She sits on the bench and looks up at me. “You have anything to tell me, Mila?” I know she’s asking about Saylor’s father.
“The answer will be the same as it has always been—I don’t know who her father is.”
She tilts her head. “Is it one of Bella’s cousins, or maybe her brother?”
I look down at my feet, ashamed, and shrug. “Could be, but he wasn’t the only one.”
“Raise your head up high, Mila. There is no shame to be carried in this. Just look at your daughter. You’ve been an amazing mother, sister, and niece.”
I lift my chin. “I’m sorry I never told you. I just didn’t want—”
“For good reason, too.”
“And what the hell does that mean?” Bella snaps.
Pam looks back at her and smiles as I swallow back the ass chewing I’m about to give her for speaking to Pam like she just did.
“You’re beautiful as the day is long, Isabella. Always have been.” She looks back at Saylor, her eyes squinting because of the sun. “And that little cherub there, she looks so much like you did at her age. I should have known.”
“Oh, I’m sure you did. I’m sure.” Bella’s voice cracks, and Pam reaches over and pulls her into a hug.
“Don’t.”
“I’m sorry. I was a stupid, young girl back then. I was missing my best friend and fell in love with a man who never was and never would be mine. But that didn’t mean I didn’t love you, Little Bell. Always have and always will.”
“You didn’t.” Bella sniffs as she pulls back.
“I certainly did. And I will admit that Karma came back swinging.” She taps her cane on the ground and smiles. “Trying to take my legs, and definitely stole my hot little Jersey Shore body.”
Bella wipes her hand under her nose. “What happened to you?”
“Rheumatoid arthritis. But I’m doing just fine.”
From behind me, I hear, “Why you crying, Mom?”
“Is this one of yours, Isabella?” Pam asks with nothing but love in her tone.
Bella smiles at him and nods. “Come here, Archer. I want you to meet someone.”
He looks her up and down. “Is she good or bad?”
Pam laughs. “Done some bad things in my life, little man, but I’m doing good things now.”
He considers her for a minute then shrugs. “You ever done time?”
“Archer.” Bella laughs as she’s trying to scold him.
“You’re my mom. I protect you.”
“Yeah?” She giggles. “Well, I changed your diapers, so let’s put things in perspective, shall we?”
Pam laughs loudly. “Oh, Isabella, you are just like your father, and so are you,” she tells Archer.
“She know Pops?” Archer asks.
“Yeah, bud, she did. Now go play and let us girls talk.”
“Gross,” he grumbles right before he takes off.
“So,” Aunt Pam says to me, “I think we have some talking to do.”
“I’m an adult, and I am doing what I need to do. I can—”
“And whether she’s Max’s or not, he’s not going anywhere, except maybe jail if Saylor’s Marc’s.”
“I don’t want a fight. I don’t want Saylor—”
“Hold up,” she says, digging into her crossbody. She pulls out a baggy and a comb. “I know a guy who can get you the answers you need, so you’ll know if there will even be a fight.”
“And if it’s his, you need to promise not to say anything. Max needs to just leave me alone so that she doesn’t have to … so I don’t have to lose what precious time I have with her.”
“Yeah, well, Max is not going to let anything go. He’s very much planning on making you his.”
I bat away a tear that I didn’t realize had fallen. “I am not looking to be anyone’s.”
“But you deserve to be.” Pam smiles.
“That’ll be your decision. I promise to keep it quiet, if you promise not to tell him that I was ever here.”
“He doesn’t know?”
“Hell no, he doesn’t. He’d flip if he knew I was eavesdropping on his conversation with my parents. So, when he rolls up to pick you up in the vehicle he’s shopping for now with Dad, you better keep it to yourself.”