Say Forever (Something More)

by Tara West

  "Didn't you eat today?" I ask.

  She shakes her head and stabs a meatball. "I didn't have time. I've got too many jobs to work on and only two weeks left to do them."

  I sigh as I dip a breadstick into the marinara. I still can't believe my girlfriend is leaving my company, although it's my own fault. Last month, after I stupidly walked out on her, she found another job working for her mom as a formal party designer. She'll be decorating weddings and quinceañeras for well-to-do clients in San Antonio and Austin. They're planning to launch Domingo Designs in January. I suppose it's for the best. I can't expect an artist with Christina's talents to airbrush cars forever.

  "You don't have to finish them all," I say to her, though secretly I want her to. The new artist I hired doesn't have half Christina's talent, or her work ethic. I'll be sad to see her go.

  "Yes, I do," she says after swallowing a mouthful of meatball. "I'm not leaving you guys stranded."

  "How's the newbie?" I ask her, and brace myself for the answer. He's got more body piercings than should be humanly possible, and an attitude to boot, but he was the only artist with a clean record who applied. Three times this week, Christina reported he's taken extended bathroom breaks. I wonder if he's got a clean record because he's actually on the straight and narrow, or if he's smart enough not to get caught at whatever he's doing wrong.

  "Talented, but a little out of touch." She wags her fork at me. "I hope you didn't hire another meth-head."

  I take another swig of beer and lean back in my chair. Running five automotive businesses is much harder than I thought. I have no idea how Tio has managed twenty. But this spring my uncle plans to retire for good, leaving my cousins and me to run his empire. I still don't know if I'm the right man for the job. I hate to admit it, but leading a troop through the mountains of Afghanistan was much easier than this. Those guys, they were my brothers. I trusted them with my life. These guys here, we've got to keep the cash registers behind cages, not just because of theft from outside, but from within. It's hard when I can't trust the people working for me.

  "Yeah, me, too." I groan before taking another swig of beer. "I'm fucking sick of dealing with users."

  Christina yelps and practically flies out of her seat at the sound of loud banging on our front door. I jump up and reach the door in a few long strides. I groan when I see spiked pink hair on the other side of the peephole.

  "Who is it?" she asks me. I look at her and laugh when I see she's armed herself with a large wooden spoon.

  "It's Karri," I growl as a knot of tension coils around my shoulders.

  Christina's eyes bulge, and she waves the spoon at me. "Don't let her in!"

  I take a step back as Karri pounds on the door again, this time louder than the first. Then I swear when I hear the faint sound of a baby crying.

  "She's got Ty!" Christina drops the spoon, pushes past me, and throws open the door.

  Karri storms into our apartment like a cyclone of angst as she thrusts the baby into Christina's arms. "I think Jackson followed me. Hurry, you've got to hide us!"

  I scowl as I look down at this meth-head who used to be my girlfriend's best friend. Karri's wearing an oversized blue and gold shirt with what appears to be fraternity lettering on the front. Her hair's a mess, her makeup is smeared, her jeans have more rips than should be legal, and it looks like her scuffed shoes are on the wrong feet.

  What the fuck is wrong with this girl?

  I look over at Christina as she tries to console the crying baby. The kid is shivering in Christina's arms. He's not wearing a jacket, and it's freaking forty degrees outside.

  Karri seems oblivious to her kid's suffering as she walks over to our kitchen table and helps herself to a breadstick. "Mmmmm, this is good. You make this, Christina?" She waves the breadstick at her.

  Christina rolls her eyes and turns her back on Karri, pressing the baby against her chest and whispering soothing words into his ear.

  Karri shrugs a shoulder, dips the breadstick into my plate, swirls it in the sauce, and takes another bite.

  Karri is the same girl who had an affair with that pendejo Jackson James while he was engaged to Christina. After Karri had Jackson's baby, she said another guy was the father, and then she named Christina as the godparent. It wasn't until Ty was almost a year old that Christina learned the truth. Last we'd heard from Karri, she'd left her baby with Jackson's parents and run off with her drug dealer boyfriend.

  Yeah, Karri's a selfish, using bitch, and if it wasn't for the baby, I wouldn't have let that girl through the door.

  I'm so fucking pissed, I'm about ready to punch a hole through the wall. I walk up to her, snatch the bread from her hand, and throw it on the table.

  "Get out," I growl.

  Her eyes widen, and she shrieks as if I'm about to hit her. No doubt, she's used to that kind of treatment from her druggie boyfriend, but I was raised differently. I'm not about to hit a girl, no matter how much she annoys me.

  "I knew you would come here!" A nasal voice echoes behind me. "You've got nowhere else to go."

  I turn around and glare at the man my girlfriend almost married. He's wearing unbuttoned pants and no shirt beneath his half-zipped leather jacket. Karri's oversized fraternity sweat shirt is starting to make more sense. They probably met at a motel somewhere, and Karri stole the baby when Jackson's pants were down. Jackson is about an inch or two taller than me, with wide shoulders, but he's got no muscle mass at all. None. It's like the guy spends his days playing video games, or else he's just lazy. The stupid pendejo has got a lot of nerve storming into my home uninvited.

  "What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?" I bellow.

  Jackson's got this wild look in his eyes as he turns to me. That's when I see the faint trace of white powder stuck to his upper lip.

  Fucking great.

  Tyler whimpers against Christina, and Jackson spins around, glaring at my girlfriend. "Give me the fucking baby, or I swear to God, Christina, I'll... "

  Christina's eyes widen as she backs up a step. Tyler whimpers louder.

  I'm barely aware of my feet propelling me forward, of me grabbing Jackson's collar and pushing him up against the wall. "Or you'll what?" I snarl. Then I say to Christina over my shoulder, "Take the baby into the bedroom."

  I tighten my grip on Jackson's collar and glare at him until I hear our bedroom door shut.

  Jackson is cringing and averting his gaze. He's too stupid to even know how to defend himself."That's my kid," he says through wheezy breath as some of that white powder beneath his nose falls into his mouth.

  I angle my head back, not just because I don't want to inhale any of Jackson's cocaine residue, but because my girlfriend's stories are true. The guy's breath smells like a fucking dog took a shit in his mouth.

  "And you're in my house uninvited," I say through clenched teeth. I still can't believe the dick has the nerve to barge into my apartment. His cocaine high must be clouding his judgment.

  I hear the clank of silverware scraping a dish, and realize Karri is eating my food. I'm so fucking pissed right now, my head's about to explode.

  Jackson raises both hands in a gesture of surrender, as he cowers against the wall. "Let me have my kid and I'll go."

  I center my gaze on the prick with the bad breath and think I've got the perfect way to release my frustration. "I've got to take care of something first." I let go of Jackson's collar.

  I hear his sigh of relief as I pull back. In the blink of an eye, I channel all my pent-up anger into the force of my fist, as I plant it square in Jackson's face.

  Pain lances through my knuckles as they crash against his mouth. Damn, he's hard-headed! The release of my frustration is worth it. I don't feel bad for sucker punching the guy. He should've been prepared for it, which goes to show what an idiot he is. What the fuck had Christina ever seen in him?

  Jackson covers his mouth as he slides down the wall and lands on his ass.

  I lean down and speak i
n a low rumble. "You don't swear at my girlfriend, ever again. Got me, hombre?"

  "That's assault," Jackson cries through his blood soaked fingers. "I'm calling the cops."

  "And telling them what?" I laugh. "That you snorted coke, broke into my house, and threatened my girlfriend? Go ahead. Call the cops. Who do you think they'll arrest?"

  Jackson's eyes widen and he crouches even lower, curling up in to a fetal ball on my entryway floor. Can the guy get any more pathetic?

  Despite the pain searing my knuckles, I haul him up by the collar. Jackson starts to cry, and he nearly falls to the floor as his feet slide all over the tile. I swear to God, it's like I'm dealing with a fucking kid.

  "Now here's what you're going to do." I growl into his ear as he flinches and flattens one side of his face against the wall. "You're going to get the fuck out of my apartment, sober up, and then you can come back tomorrow for your kid."

  "I need Tyler tonight," he whimpers. "My dad will freak."

  "Then call your dad and tell him to come get him."

  Jackson raises a shaky, bloodied hand and points over my shoulder. "He can't know I was with her."

  I don't need to look behind me to know he's talking about Karri; the stupid bitch is still chowing down on my food.

  I look him dead in the eye and clutch his collar so tight, he makes gagging sounds. "You should have thought about that before you fucked her... again. I hope you wore a condom this time."

  I release Jackson with a shove and point the way out the door.

  Jackson stumbles over the threshold and pulls his hand from his mouth. He turns to me with a quavering lip. "I think you busted a tooth."

  I ball up my hands and take a step forward. "Good. Now get out of my sight before I bust some more." I step into the foyer and watch as he sulks toward the parking lot.

  I hear the sound of a fork clanking on top of an empty platter. Karri rushes the door. "Now maybe you'll go to the dentist," she calls out in a sing-song, mocking tone. "Did anyone ever tell you your breath stinks?" She turns to me with a triumphant gleam in her crazed eyes.

  My shoulders stiffen as I brush past her and shut the front door. I walk into our bedroom and close the door behind me.

  ***

  Christina

  I'm sitting on the bed, holding Ty against my chest when Andrés walks into the bedroom. It's only when I see he's whole and unharmed I exhale a sigh of relief. Though I don't think Jackson could hurt my boyfriend, anyway. I definitely heard a scuffle outside my door, and knowing Andrés, he'd probably had enough of Jackson's shit.

  "What happened?"

  He looks at me with a smirk before holding up a fist. "Jackson got what was coming to him, that's what happened."

  I gasp when I see my boyfriend's knuckles are bleeding. "Andrés, your hand!"

  He shrugs. "It's nothing. Do you know how many times I've split my knuckles fixing cars?" He crosses his arms over his chest and winks. "Besides, you don't know how good that felt."

  "I bet," I laugh. "I've been dreaming of face punching Jackson for years."

  The door opens and Karri sidles in, unannounced and uninvited. Big surprise.

  Karri beams down at Tyler and me. "Awww. Don't you make a good godmother?"

  Tyler tightens his grip around my neck and whimpers into my shoulder at the sound of his mother's voice.

  Andrés looks at my meth-head ex-BFF and scowls. He tenses up when her shoulder brushes his forearm. She smiles up at him as if they're best chums. Doesn't this girl have fucking boundaries?

  Andrés takes a step away from Karri. "Do you know how to get ahold of the grandparents?" he asks me.

  I point to my phone on the nightstand. "I already texted Jackson's stepmom."

  I'd sent Mrs. James a message that Karri and Jackson were fighting over Tyler, and she'd better come get him ASAP. She messaged me back a few seconds later they were on their way out the door.

  "What did you tell her? I don't want them taking Ty!" Karri shrieks as she lunges forward.

  Andrés pushes her back with a quick thrust of his arm. "You don't have custody," he says in a menacing tone. "This is kidnapping."

  Karri flaps a hand at Tyler and stomps her foot. "He's my baby!"

  "He was your baby," Andrés says with a clenched jaw. "You lost your rights when you ran off with your drug dealer."

  Karri gapes at him like he's grown a second head.

  "He's got Celiac Disease, remember?" I ask, scooting away from Karri while clutching Tyler tighter. "Special diet? Do you even know how to feed him? Do you even have a place to live?"

  "I can stay here." Karri doesn't even flinch when she says it.

  Un-fucking-believable!

  Before I get a chance to tell the bitch how crazy she is, Andrés says on a roar, "Hell, no!"

  Karri shrieks back, looking at Andrés with wide watery eyes, and then she wails like a child.I'm so embarrassed for her.

  Once again, I'm startled by pounding on the front door. Andrés swears and grabs a baseball bat out of the closet. My limbs ice over with fear when he storms out of the bedroom. I know Andrés is ten times the man Jackson is, but I also know Jackson has probably been doing drugs, most likely cocaine, his drug of choice. Who knows what revenge he's capable of while he's wired? What if he's got a bigger bat, or worse, a knife or gun? I give Ty an extra squeeze and rise on shaky legs as I peer through the crack in the bedroom door.

  Relief floods through me when I see my tall, blonde, and Barbie doll perfect best friend and neighbor, Grace, and her rancher girlfriend, Violet.

  I carry Tyler out to the living room, Karri lapping at my heels like a stray dog begging for crumbs.

  "Is everything okay?" Grace asks as she sweeps a hand through her long curls. "We heard a commotion."

  Andrés looks back at Karri with a scowl. "I'm handling it."

  Karri's bottom lip is hanging down in a pout. She looks terrible, her pink spiky hair a twisted mess, and her thick black eyeliner smeared down her face. She's lost a lot of weight since I've last seen her over a month ago. She once prided herself on her curves, but now she looks like an emaciated rat.

  "I come back home and find out my mom is dead and my stupid brother sold our house." Karri throws up her hands. "I don't have anywhere to live! You can't just throw me out on the street!" She looks at Andrés with an accusatory glare.

  Andrés squares his shoulders, his normally passionate and loving gaze turning to stone. "No meth-head is staying in my house."

  "I'll take her."

  I gape at Violet. She's dressed in worn denim jeans and scuffed boots, and her cropped dark hair is slicked back with gel. Grace's girlfriend has been full of surprises. When I first met her, I thought she was some rodeo groupie, but I've learned there's a lot more to this woman. She owns a successful horse breeding ranch on the outskirts of town. Grace told me Violet has taken in many wayward teens and taught them how to care for livestock and manage their thriving, organic farm.

  I guess I'm not the only one shocked by Violet's offer. Slack-jawed, Grace is looking at her girlfriend, too. "W-what?" Grace asks, breathily.

  Violet crosses her arms over her chest and eyes Karri like she's a piece of livestock. "She can work at the ranch."

  "Ranch?" Karri stops her false tantrum long enough to cock a hand on her hip and sneer. "You mean like horses and cows and shit? It's not like one of those fucking rehab ranches, is it?"

  "Sort of." Violet's face is devoid of expression. "You want a place to live or not?"

  Karri props her other hand on a hip and rolls her head with an exaggerated movement. "I'm not picking up horse shit."

  Violet takes a step forward, the hard angles of her face turning into a frown. "You'll do what you're told if you want room and board. I'll be waiting in my truck. You've got two minutes to decide."

  Violet turns and walks out, Grace trailing behind her. I can hear Grace's high-pitched whine echoing in the corridor, and I can tell she's not happy about Violet's offer.


  "Christina!" Karri waves a hand toward the front door. "You cannot make me go live with her."

  Tyler is snuggling against me, and I look down to see his eyelashes are fluttering as if he's fighting sleep. His cheeks are flushed, and he feels like a little squeezable furnace. I run my fingers through his hair and feel his forehead. It's warm. Too warm. Who knows what this kid was exposed to while his parents were doing drugs today? I swear if I wasn't holding Tyler, it would be hard for me to keep from wrapping my hands around Karri's throat and throttling her.

  "You're not staying here." I turn my back on her and rock the baby in my arms. I keep my gaze focused on the blank flat-screen in our oak entertainment center. It's Andrés TV, and bigger than the width of my arms. I'm pretty sure it costs more than all the furniture in our apartment.

  "I can't believe you would do this to me!" Karri yells, causing Tyler to jump.

  I mentally count to ten as I try to shake off the urge to give Ty to Andrés, rip the television from its stand, and smash it over Karri's head.

  "Get over yourself, Karri," Andrés snickers.

  I bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

  "Fuck you and your stupid fucking boyfriend!" Karri screams before I hear her stomping out the door. I hold Ty tightly as I listen to the retreating sound of her shoes smacking against the pavement.

  And just like that, Karri the tornado storms out of my apartment, and hopefully out of my life, in a whirlwind of emotion. She doesn't even bother saying goodbye to her sleeping baby. Not that she gives a shit about anyone but herself. Poor Grace. Violet doesn't know what she's gotten them into.

  ***

  Jackson's stepmom shows up about fifteen minutes later with an escort built like a refrigerator, wearing dark shades, a black suit and tie, and a Bluetooth in his ear. I think he must be part statue, as I don't see so much as a muscle twitch on his face while he blocks my front door with his hands clasped in front of him.

  As Mrs. James takes Ty from me, she explains Mr. James is in Paris on business.

  Out of all of Jackson's family, his stepmom is the only person I've ever liked. She can be haughty at times, usually when Mr. James is around, but one-on-one, she's always been nice to me. She's only about ten years older than me and my height and dress size, a petite trophy wife, with hair so pale it practically glows.