"Uh-huh. Man, Georgia,” he shouted, his excitement seeming to finally bubble over, “you sure can throw!"
Not wanting to become over confident, she did her best to stay focused. “Thanks, Jay. Let's pace this out, are you ready?"
He nodded, and she measured what she assumed was ten feet, then showed Jay exactly where to squat. “If one goes wild, just get out of the way. Don't bother trying to catch it; I don't want you to get hurt."
"Okay, okay."
Georgia walked back to her makeshift mound and stood perfectly still. She concentrated on her target, hoping she could still throw hard and accurately from fifty feet. With the intention of throwing a fastball, she gripped the ball and took a breath. Arms relaxed, she began her windup. Tightening her stomach muscles as she readied to release, she put everything she had into the ball and let it fly. The snap as it landed in Jay's glove was so loud that time that he actually cried out ... then proceeded to teeter back and forth, finally losing the battle with his balance and falling on his ass.
Oh no! “Jay!"
Georgia ran across the yard to where her nephew was lying, threw her glove down, and knelt beside him. “Jay! Oh my God, are you okay?"
The fact that he was doing his best to swat her hands away as she tried to touch him told her that Jay was just fine. Georgia didn't want to hurt his pride, so she backed away and sat in the grass next to him. While she waited for him to recover, she used the bottom of her shirt to wipe the sweat from her brow, then reached up and tightened her ponytail.
When Jay finally sat up, he was shaking his head and grinning. “Wow, Georgia, I can't believe you can throw like that! That ball had to be going sixty miles an hour!"
Chances were his guess probably wasn't far off. “I can't believe I can still throw, either,” she said, hearing the shock in her own voice. “It's been a long time since I've even touched a softball."
"What's the fastest you've ever thrown?” he asked excitedly. “Do you know?"
"One of my coaches clocked me at sixty-four miles an hour when I was fifteen. That was the last time I played softball."
"Wow, that's so cool! I can't wait to tell everyone!"
"No!” she yelled suddenly. “Please don't tell, Jay, I don't want anyone to know."
"Why not? Once the guys see you pitch, they're going to want you on their team for sure. Don't you want to play?"
She did. “I do, Jay. I want to play more than anything. But I just started pitching again. I'd like to get in a little more practice before we show anyone, okay?"
Poor Jay, he looked so disappointed. Georgia felt bad for squashing his enthusiasm, but she just wasn't ready to reveal that part of herself yet. Her brothers—especially Blackie—had been watching closer than usual over the past couple weeks. Afraid something was up, she didn't want to spring any surprises on them right now.
"Okay,” he agreed, reluctantly. Lying back down in the grass, he covered his eyes with his forearm to shield them from the sun.
"Are you sure you're all right?” she asked, afraid he was really hurt. “Let me see your hand."
"I said I'm fine, Georgia. The speed of the ball just surprised me, that's all. I wasn't expecting the heater."
Okay, so he was fine.
Georgia stood up and reached down, offering Jay a hand. “All right, then what do you say we get going to your house? I'm starving."
Jay sat up abruptly. “What? Why do we have to go now? Can't you throw me a few more?"
"What do you mean, why? You probably left your house an hour ago. I'm sure Dusty's wondering where you are."
Jay considered the possibility for less than a second before he shook his head. “No, she isn't. She won't be worried for at least another hour or two."
Georgia looked down and squinted at him suspiciously.
"I swear, Georgia. Look, I'm a nine-year-old boy. I wander around, explore things, get distracted, and lose track of time. She knows me."
"Yeah, right."
"Come on,” he pleaded. “Just a few more pitches."
Georgia sighed. Throwing the ball again had felt good. She was warmed up now and felt like she could pitch all day. “Okay,” she agreed, “a few more."
Twenty minutes later, Georgia's arm began to stiffen, so they called it a day.
As they made their way toward the house to get something to drink, Georgia felt the need to remind Jay one more time. “This is our secret, remember?"
"I remember,” he said, then greedily gulped down the glass of water she'd handed him. When he was finished, he put it in the sink. “Are you ready to go?"
Georgia was more than ready to go in search of food, feeling as though she could eat an entire pizza herself. But she was also feeling energetic and alive, despite the pain in her arm.
It felt great to be hot and sweaty because she'd been exercising instead of because she was suffering from withdrawal. She had her brothers to thank for that. Blackie, in particular, since he'd been the one to take the lead that first day; to tell her she was done with heroin whether she liked it or not.
With a renewed need to show him her appreciation, she decided to call Bert before she and Jay left, and find out where the drum for Blackie's gun was.
"Here,” she called, tossing her glove to Jay, “hang onto this for me. Go outside and put your sweatshirt back on so you don't get sick, and wait for me out there. I'm going to grab some ice for my arm and make a quick phone call. I'll be out in five minutes."
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Chapter 22
Georgia couldn't believe what she was hearing. “Dammit, Bert, you promised!"
"I'm sorry, Georgia."
"Sorry?” she yelled, hardly able to believe that he hadn't kept his word. “I've been checking the mailbox every day for two weeks and all you can say is that you're sorry?"
"Yeah. A big order came in right after I got off the phone with you last time and I completely forgot about it until the other day. I made a few calls on the drum already and a guy I know has one not too far from here. I'll go pick it up now and send it out first thing tomorrow morning. You should have it in a few days."
"A few days!” she hollered at him, oblivious to the three pair of eyes watching her from behind. “Come on, Bert, I need it now! I needed it two weeks ago!"
Georgia was frustrated that her old friend hadn't come through for her, and was so angry she was now screaming. “Just forget it, Bert, I'll get it somewhere el—"
Suddenly, the line went dead. I can't believe he hung up on me!
Furious, she turned around with the intention of slamming the receiver back onto its hook, only to realize that it hadn't been Bert who'd ended their conversation, after all. Unfortunately for her, it was Blackie. He was standing directly behind her—looking angrier than he had the day he'd almost hit her in Rebel's front yard—with his finger pressing down on the button that had disconnected the call.
"Not up to anything, huh?” he said to Judd and Rebel, momentarily ignoring her.
It didn't take Georgia long to figure out what he was talking about. Blackie must've been watching her so closely over the past few weeks because he thought she was doing something she wasn't supposed to be ... like heroin.
Although she couldn't figure out why he would've assumed that before he'd walked into the house, she knew exactly why he assumed so now. The only detail of the conversation that he'd probably heard was her yelling at Bert because he hadn't sent her something he was supposed to.
Now they all thought she was using drugs again.
She could see it in the expressions on their faces.
Blackie grabbed the phone receiver from her and jammed it back onto its holder.
Say something. Say something to defend yourself before Blackie's temper explodes, or he'll never let you talk!
"It's not what you think, Blackie,” she started, “I—"
"Shut up!” he yelled. “I know what I just heard."
"But you misunderstood—"
> "I didn't misunderstand nothin'! We trusted you, Georgia. You gave us your word you weren't gonna touch heroin no more."
"I didn't do anything wrong!” she shouted, feeling desperate. What if none of them believed her? Aside from calling Bert and begging him to tell her brothers the truth—which they'd never believe anyway—there was no way for her to prove she wasn't doing drugs.
Silently, she turned to Rebel and pleaded for support. He was usually the only one able to step in and get Blackie calmed down when he was angry. But Rebel didn't say a word, and made no move to help her.
Judd. Judd would fix this. He always took her side. Near tears, Georgia focused her attention on her middle brother. “Judd?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again with a slight shake of his head.
She stared at him for a moment, hardly able to believe he was refusing to help her. “Judd?” she pleaded again.
This time, “Georgia,” was all he said.
She couldn't believe it. They had all turned against her. Even Judd, the brother who understood her, the one she thought believed in her.
What was she supposed to do now?
"We trusted you!” Blackie yelled, “and all you did was throw that trust back in our faces!"
"I did not!"
"Shut up, Georgia, I don't want to hear it! I know you've been watchin’ the mailbox everyday, I just didn't know why. Do you even know that sendin’ drugs through the mail is a federal offense? I could go to prison for the rest of my fuckin’ life if the cops discover that shit in this house. And you'd be in the damn cell right next to me if they caught you with it!"
"I told you—"
Blackie took an angry step toward her. She tried to take a step back, as well, but he reached out and grabbed the front of her shirt, pulling her closer to him. “I don't give a damn what you told me. You betrayed us, Georgia. Any trust we had in you is dead. I want you out of this house. Now!"
He was throwing her out of his house? For good? What was she supposed to do? Where was she supposed to go?
Georgia turned to Judd and Rebel, making one last plea for help. But the looks on their faces told her even before she opened her mouth that they weren't going to do anything for her. She was on her own, now.
"Blackie—"
"Save it!” he yelled. “Save your lies for some other sucker, ‘cause I ain't never gonna believe another word that comes outta your mouth. Now,” he said, pointing toward the front door, “get the fuck outta my sight before I forget my vow not to hurt you. And don't come back!"
Georgia opened her mouth to continue pleading with Blackie, but then closed it. She might as well save her breath. He wasn't going to believe a word she said anyway.
Overcome with anger because of the unfair way her brothers were treating her, Georgia decided to go.
But she wasn't going to go quietly.
She stepped forward, reached up, and slapped Blackie across the face so hard that it made her own hand sting. “I hate you!” she screamed. “I hate that you found me at the garage that day, and hate that you felt the need to help me! You're no better than Dolan, and I wish you'd just left me alone!"
Georgia saw the rage in Blackie's eyes only a second before his hand connected with her face.
He'd slapped her back.
"Blackie!” she heard Judd yell, but Blackie ignored him.
Her hand flew to her cheek, which had become numb the instant Blackie's open palm had made contact with it.
"Uh-huh, that didn't feel too damn good, did it?” he asked sarcastically as he stared at her, the fire in his eyes feeling as though it was burning a hole right through her.
No, it didn't feel good. And suddenly, Georgia wanted to hurt Blackie the way he'd hurt her by accusing her of using heroin again.
Striking out, she took another swing at him. Only this time, he was ready. He reached out, grabbed her arm in mid-air, and shoved her backward, slamming her up against the wall.
"Give it up, you little liar,” he snapped. “You ain't gonna win against me."
Georgia heard herself grunt and felt the pain in her back and head where she'd hit, but was so fired up that she immediately charged at him again. This time, he caught her by her shoulders and squeezed. The pain caused her to fall to her knees, but she had little time to rest while she was down there. In the next second, Blackie grabbed the front of her shirt, nearly choking her, and yanked her to her feet. “Get off me,” she managed to croak, gasping for air.
"Blackie!” Judd and Rebel yelled together this time. “Stop!"
Judd was suddenly behind Blackie with his arm wrapped around Blackie's neck. “Cut it out, man, you're hurting her!"
Out of control, Blackie ignored Judd and threw Georgia up against the wall again. This time, she hit with the shoulder of her pitching arm and fell to the floor. From where she landed, she watched Judd and Rebel as they wrapped themselves around Blackie's body to try and keep him from coming at her.
Once it looked like they had a hold on him that he wouldn't be able to break, Georgia—already sore—forced herself to stand and face him. She didn't give a damn that she was crying, or that everyone saw her take her forearm and swipe at the blood running from the split lip Blackie had given her.
She jumped back in mortal fear when Blackie shook Judd and Rebel off his body as if they were lighter than feathers. She cowered in spite of herself, terrified he was going to hit her.
Surprised that he made no move to come after her, she decided that even though she'd lost the fight, she was going to get in the last word. “Fine!” she screamed in Blackie's face through her sobs. “You want me to go, I'm happy to do it. I never wanted to live with you, anyway! I don't even like you! You're controlling, overprotective, and mean!"
Georgia stopped momentarily and took a deep breath. Using as much hatred as she could come up with, she added, “I was wrong, you know. You're not as bad as Dolan, you're worse because at least he was honest. He told me he'd hurt me if I didn't do what he wanted, and he kept his promise.” She wiped at the blood again, this time with the bottom of her shirt, and showed it to him. “You broke yours."
No reaction? That was a surprise. Georgia stared at him, and he stared right back.
"I don't need you, Blackie!” she finally screamed, and took the time to spit a mouthful of blood on the floor at his feet before adding, “I don't need any of you!"
Turning her back on them, Georgia ignored Judd and Rebel's pleas to stop, and ran out the front door.
* * * *
"Jesus fucking Christ, Blackie,” Judd was so angry he felt like killing his older brother. “What the hell is wrong with you?"
Obviously so angry that he was having a hard time keeping himself under control, Blackie reached out and took a swing at Judd, who ducked out of the way. “Shut the hell up, Judd!” he warned. “Shut up before I fuckin’ kill you!"
"No Blackie, you shut up! In fact, you should've shut up the second you started talking. How could you say that stuff to Georgia? How could you hit her? Good God, Blackie, you outweigh her by two hundred pounds! You could've killed her!"
"She lied to us!” Blackie roared. “She made us look like fools!"
Judd had never seen Blackie so angry. Never. Not even when the Renegades had tried to kill Angel. Why, he wondered, was Blackie so upset at what Georgia had done? They didn't even know for sure that she was lying, even though all the evidence made it look like she was.
"Maybe she lied and maybe she didn't,” Rebel said. “But you didn't even give her a chance to explain herself."
Blackie angrily brushed at the few strands of the sweaty, long, thick hair that was sticking to his face. “She didn't deserve a chance!"
Rebel actually laughed, putting Judd on alert. Blackie had struck out at people for much less than that when he was angry. “Oh no? How many times have you been in and out of prison?” Rebel asked him. “How many chances did the law give you before you decided to go straight and quit causing trou
ble? Several, Blackie, you've had several chances. And you wouldn't even give Georgia one."
If the look on Blackie's face was any indication of what his next move was going to be, Judd decided that Rebel would be wise to take a step back. “Just whose side are you on, Rebel?"
"There aren't any sides, here, Blackie, just facts. Facts we'll never know because not only did you just beat on your own sister out of anger—something you've never even done to Judd or me—you also threw her out of your house and told her not to come back!"
Without warning, Blackie reached for the glass pitcher on the kitchen table and hurled it across the room, where it shattered into a million pieces the instant it hit the wall.
If Judd knew anything about his older brother, it was that right about now, Blackie was probably just realizing what he'd done. And that in a few minutes, once it all sank in, he was going to be even angrier than before. Only this time, he was going to be angry with himself ... which was more dangerous than anything.
When the screen door leading into the backyard suddenly creaked, all three McCassey brothers turned around at the same time. Judd had been hoping it was Georgia, and was more than a little surprised to see his son.
"Jay!” Judd said as the boy stepped tentatively into the room, “what are you doing here?"
The boy carefully and quietly took in the scene before looking from his father, to each of his uncles, and back to his father again. “I came by a couple hours ago to see if Georgia wanted to come over and eat pizza with us."
A couple hours ago? “You and Georgia were outside for a couple hours?"
"Yeah, Dad, we were!” he yelled, angrily. “And she didn't do anything wrong, either!” Turning to Blackie, he continued to yell. “How could you say those things to her, Uncle Blackie? How could you hit her? She's just a girl. Damn, I'm nine years old and I weigh more than she does. You're a coward! You're a coward for losing control and beating up your sister! If I had a sister like Georgia, I'd never do anything to hurt her, never!"
Immediately thinking the worst when Blackie made a move toward Jay, Judd stepped in between the two of them. “You lay a hand on him, Blackie, and brother or not, I swear to God, I'll kill you."
The Long Road Home [The Final McCassey Brothers Book] Page 18