by Tara Oakes
“Why were you doing that?” Any reasonable person would ask.
Even with her oversized sunglasses on, I can see her cheeks begin to blush. “It sounds ridiculous.”
“Most things do. So? Why?” I’m dying to hear.
Angel shifts in her seat and the leather of the chair creeks. “I—I felt like I was being watched.”
Huh? “Like Dawson watching you the way he always does?”
She blows a little stream of air to move a wispy piece of hair from her cheek. “No. Dawson was nowhere near there. I felt it all day. It was just weird.”
It is. “Well. Life is weird sometimes.”
Angel agrees, “Tell me about it. I was so out of it that I was hallucinating.”
“What?!” I’m beginning to understand why Dawson might have been worried. I don’t recall ever hallucinating when I was carrying Lu.
“Yup. I saw my sister bending over me, talking to me. She was there one minute and gone the next,” she goes into detail.
Keeping my eyes darting back and forth to the road, I see just enough to steer clear of someone trying to merge ahead of us while I steal glances at Angel. “The sister that’s dead? The junkie?”
She’s seeing ghosts now- not that I believe in that shit, but I certainly don’t ever want to find out if I’m wrong. A chill runs up my spine.
“No. I mean… I don’t know. She could be dead. She might not be. She was using so much the last time she skipped town that I wouldn’t think it’s impossible. All I know is I haven’t seen her in years and if you had asked me a week ago, I would have told you that I never wanted to see her again after what she put us all through. But, that’s not what I felt in my heart when I saw her in my head last night.” Angel props her elbow up against the window and rests her head on her palm. “A part of me felt happy to see her. Another part of me wanted to slap the shit out of her, but…”
She exhales, giving up on the sentence.
“I get it. She’s your sister. You love her. You hate her. It all mixes together.” I rationalize. I wouldn’t know myself, as I don’t have any siblings.
“I guess,” Angel pacifies me. “It’s too confusing. Let’s change the subject. What happened over your house? Stitch fuck up or something?”
Yeah, he did. And it cost him his freedom for almost a year. But, I digress.
“He just set me off last night. It’s been a long time coming and just blew up.” I try to be vague to avoid having to give details.
Angel seems happy for the distraction from her own drama. “Is this the first fight you guys have had since he came home?”
I nod and check traffic before making a right on red. “Pretty much. I mean the first real fight, anyway, that wasn’t over him forgetting to replace the toilet paper or something stupid like that.”
“Well, it had to happen at some point. At least it’s out of the way and over with. That must be a relief, right?”
I have to remind myself that she and Dawson haven’t been together very long. She doesn’t know what it’s like yet when so much shit piles up and is stuffed down, but give it time. She’s gonna learn the hard way. We all do.
~*~
DAWSON
“What the fuck do you mean you’re not leaving?” I feel the vein on the side of my neck throbbing so hard, I’m sure it will burst.
Tina stands toe to toe with me, folding her arms across her chest. “You heard me. I’m not leaving until I know my sister is okay.”
God help me, I’m gonna go ballistic.
“D! Calm down, man! Hear her out!” Gryff steps in between the two of us as we square off in his kitchen.
I’m not about to hit a woman, even though every bone in my body is aching to for her treachery, but he’s a different story. I take a wild swing at him, but he ducks only to leave me punching through thin air.
“You sonnuvabitch!” I turn to where he’s popped up behind me. “You were supposed to get her outta town last night!”
Tina had been the first one to get to Angel after she’d fainted at the carnival last night, but Gryff had done some quick thinking to get her outta sight before her younger sister came too.
I’d gotten the call to come help Angel from everyone we knew that was in the area when it happened, and no one mentioned the woman with a striking resemblance to Angel, so I think it’s safe to say that no one saw her with all the commotion going on.
No one except Angel, that is.
By the time I’d gotten to her, having sprinted through the crowd and across to the other side of the carnival where she was sitting and sipping on cold water, surrounded by spectators, she was still disoriented and out of it.
Claiming to have seen an apparition of her sister didn’t seem out of place at all. She could have claimed to have seen Santa Clause himself and people wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Most people just thought she’d hit her head.
I’m not entirely sure she didn’t.
I’d begged, pleaded and even threatened to get Angel to agree to go to the hospital, but she’d refused. The best I could do was get her to agree to go home immediately and go see the doc the next day. Just my luck that today is a Sunday and the office is closed.
“D! I tried everything but she won’t listen,” Gryff does some fancy footwork to avoid the next punch I throw, while trying to defend why he couldn’t follow simple instructions.
As soon as Angel had started talking about her sister popping up like a dream, I knew we were too close for comfort and Tina needed to get the fuck outta town, quick before this all started to unravel.
Get her in the car, I’d told Gryff.
Take her back to Canyon Ridge.
Those were pretty simple, specific, and non-negotiable instructions. You’d think they’d be hard to fuck up, right?
Yeah, not for Gryff. Leave it to him to find a way to fuck it up anyway.
“Does Angel listen to you? No!! And you’re her Ol’ man! Her sister is even more thick-headed than she is. If you think it’s so easy, then you try getting her to leave!” he calls out from the other side of the dining table where’s he’s run to hide.
Part of what he says rings true. Hell, even as recently as this morning, Angel fought me like a cat with her claws out over going shopping. Gryff isn’t the problem here. Tina is. I’ll deal with my pansy ass V.P. later.
“Get your shit together. I’m taking you back home right now,” I order her through gritted teeth from over my shoulder.
Tina folds her arms over her chest. “Nope.”
When standing tall, she’s about four inches taller than Angel. I could throw her over my shoulder without a problem, but, unlike Angel, I’m sure this one would kick, scratch, bite and punch me the entire time.
It’s not unusual for me to come home with bruises, and Angel doesn’t ask too many questions. But bite marks? Eh, that’s a whole other story. I can’t imagine me coming up with a story she’d buy to explain that.
“Get in the fucking car,” I drop the octave of my voice and let the warning out through my words.
“Or else what?” she counters. “You’ll do to me what you did to Kyle?”
Her statement is like a bitch slap across the face. That’s one name I haven’t heard in a while and never really planned on hearing again.
Sasha’s biological father, Kyle, was one problem that needed to be taken care of. So, that’s what I did.
A couple of months ago, that rat bastard junkie showed up at my door lookin’ to take his kid back. He was high as a fucking kite, standin’ in my house, threatening Angel if he didn’t get what he wanted.
Even if the cops and family court had used better judgment to keep Sasha away from him, she still would have been placed in foster care, at least temporarily, until the matter got sorted out. That’s assuming the authorities would have done what they should have. We all know that’s not the case half the time.
They usually do the easiest, simplest, thing that requires them to do the least amount o
f paperwork. And that would have been to let the closest parent, Kyle, have her.
There was no way in hell I was gonna even chance that happening. So. I arranged for him to stay down at a cheap ass drug motel while he thought I was bringing the kid to him.
The only thing I had coming his way was a local dealer with laced goods to sell him. He never woke up, and it all went down as a classic overdose.
“No idea what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, Tina. But you should be real fuckin’ careful makin’ accusations. Accusations get people in trouble. You never know. Maybe it was accusations that got Kyle in trouble,” I only mildly attempt to veil my threat.
There’s no way in hell she could know what really went down with her ex, the douchebag who used to beat her senseless. If anything, she should be fuckin’ thanking me that he’s gone.
“I heard from his mom that he OD’d in a roach motel here in Riverdale. Never thought anything of it until yesterday when I find out it’s the same town Mom and Molly moved to with my little girl—” She’s cut off.
“So let me get this straight. You dump your kid with your sister, don’t tell anyone how to contact you, yet the mother of your asshole ex seems to know how to get a hold of you if she needs to? That seem right to you? You didn’t even have the decency to tell the people who were taking care of your child where to find you, yet that slime ball’s mother knew?” I’m refocusing all of the anger that was recently hurling at Gryff, onto Tina.
Her head shakes back and forth. “Don’t you judge me! I already judge myself every single day! I don’t need you to tell me how I fucked up. I don’t need you to tell me what I should have done differently. I made my mistakes. I own them. I’m only trying to pick up the pieces and move forward.”
She’s on the verge of tears. Real tears and not some fake shit that women use for their own advantage. “I just need to know that everyone’s okay, that everyone’s safe before I leave. That means Molly, too. She’s my baby sister. I let her down in so many ways, but I need to know she’s good before I leave. Especially, if she’s going to be taking care of my little girl.”
Every single word is both sensible and bullshit at the same time. She fuckin’ left, just… left. She doesn’t get the right to demand things like this. But, she’s also the kid’s mom and I can see why she might need the closure to move on.
One parent, especially a prick like Kyle, showing up dead doesn’t raise too m any questions. Not in today’s drug infested world, anyway. But, two parents kicking the bucket so close together might be enough to catch someone’s suspicions. Plus, Tina’s got a life for herself now. Friends that would report her missing in a heartbeat, people that would swear she’s clean and sober, so an OD would be a little far-fetched to pass the sniff test.
Not to mention Lillian and Angel. I don’t care how much anger they have toward Tina. She’s still blood. If I let my instincts take over here and take care of this the way I’m used to, it’s gonna leave a whole lot of heartache and suffering in my own house. I can’t do that to Angel.
Fuck!
But, I know that Tina’s got a smart head on those shoulders. She’s already hinted that she knows something about what happened to Kyle that could jam me up and send me away just like Stitch. I can’t risk that happening, either.
Caught between a rock and hard place. That saying seems more than appropriate right now.
“You stay here. You don’t leave. Under any circumstances. Nobody in town meets you, nobody even gets a fucking inkling that you’re here. Then, once you find out that Angel’s fine and there’s no other reason for you to hang around, I want the papers signed and you gone. You hear me?” I lay out my terms.
Tina nods quickly, agreeing before the offer can be taken back.
Gryff seems relieved, too. He knows better than most how this could have ended.
“And one more thing. You best forget whatever the fuck you think you know about Kyle. For your own good and everyone else’s. This world is a better place without him in it, and you should know that better than anyone else.” I’ll never regret taking that piece of scum out. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
STITCH
The wooden screen door closes and bounces once before fully shutting. It gets hot as hell in this kitchen, even with all the windows and the door open. How the fuck does Baby cook in here every day?
I cook one meal and I’m already ready to call it quits.
The hot South Carolina nights can be brutal.
“You guys buy out the store? Hope Angel racked up Dawson’s credit card pretty good.” I test the waters with something pretty light to see how pissed she still is.
When the last dish is rinsed and left to dry in the plastic drying rack, I turn and wipe my hands clean on the damp dish cloth in my hands.
Baby doesn’t have any bags in her hands, which is unlike her. Whenever she goes shopping, she comes home with at least a few, even though I know they were mainly going for Angel today.
Especially since Lu came into the picture.
Baby can’t manage to go one day it seems without buyin’ something for the kid. I haven’t seen her in the same outfit twice since she was born.
“No shopping?” I wonder aloud.
Baby looks around me as if I’m made of glass. She spots the clean countertops, the dishes drying in the rack, and the empty sink. “You did the dishes?” She bypasses my question completely.
I remember how she fucked around with me this morning, answering me in only monosyllable hums. So, I decide we’re in a good enough place where I bust her balls back a little bit and give her a dose of her own medicine.
“Mm hmm,” I hum.
It doesn’t take long for her to catch on to what I’m doing. Her eyes squint and she scowls. Not the kind where I need to duck before something is thrown at me, though, so we’re making progress here.
She plays detective and spots the baby monitor on the counter nearest me. Gentle breathing sounds can be heard coming through the little speaker.
“You put her to bed? Fed her first?” she fires away the next in her series of questions.
Same reply. “Mm hmm.”
I can tell she’s trying like hell to hide the fact that she’s pleasantly surprised. Next, she opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. The first things that can be seen on the top shelf are the clear containers with the still-warm lemon chicken and rice that I’d made for dinner.
“You cooked supper?” She’s surprised, as I don’t usually cook. I make a phone call for delivery or sit at the table and eat whatever the fuck she’s made for the night. This one has really thrown her for a loop.
“Mm hmm,” I keep the game going.
It’s obvious that she’s torn, not wanting to seem too impressed, but still extremely curious about the meal. “Was… it good?”
Surprisingly, it was. “Mm hmm.”
Thanks to the recipe I was able to find online, it wasn’t too hard to make, even with a screaming kid over my shoulder.
Baby slowly takes a bottle of flavored water from the fridge door, but her eyes don’t budge from the square Tupperware full of chicken. I hear her stomach growl and grumble.
I’m the perfect height to reach over her and take the meal containers out, passing over her head and placing them down on the counter. She watches me curiously.
Catching her eyes, I smile and wink but don’t say a word. Instead, I withdraw an empty plate from the cupboard and place it down next to the Tupperware. There’s a gentle popping as the lids are removed and the room begins to fill the with lemon scented steam from the meat.
Baby takes a step closer. “You’re making me a plate?”
My lip twitches as I try and keep from grinning, “Mm hmm.”
Generous amounts of rice, chicken and gravy are heaped onto the dish, with her nodding each time the serving spoon hits the ceramic, seeming to approve of what she sees.
“Good. I guess I’ll
just go get changed then.” She takes her water with her, sipping along the way before turning to leave the kitchen as I put the plate in the microwave oven to nuke.
“Mm hmm.” One last little jab.
Well, that was promising. At this rate, maybe she’ll let me sleep in our bed tonight.
Who the fuck am I kidding?
I know she will.
The only question is how much groveling I’m gonna have to do for that to happen.
~*~
Baby ate every bite of the chicken I’d made, and I couldn’t help but watch. Every time she would lick her lips or smack them together, my cock would twitch. I haven’t felt her body in two nights now and I’m about ready to crawl out of my skin.
Everything she does, no matter how little, is enough to drive me wild.
When you go from not having the one thing you want the most for almost a year, and then you get it back, it’s not something you even want to go one more fucking day without.
Especially when she was in the same fucking house, only steps away, sleeping in our bed, in nothing but one of those old t-shirts of mine that she wears to bed. It was torture. Physical torture that kept me up most of the night, replaying everything that I’d said, everything that she’d said.
One of the sappy movie channels is playing on the big T.V. in the den and she’s curled up in the corner of the couch in nothing more than a little pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, watching the screen.
The house has cooled off some, but has a little more to go before it’s perfect.
“You got room on there for one more?” I already see there’s plenty of space, but I’m not about to press my luck.
She pretends as if she’s thinking hard on it. “I guess.”
“What’re we watching?” I’m not even going to attempt to guess what the hell this is. All these movies are alike.
There’s a chick, not overly gorgeous, but more like the girl next door. Then there’s the guy who doesn’t really notice her because he’s too busy listening to his dick and chasing the slutty blonde.