Quietly pressing the button on Lex’s back screen door, I open it just enough to fit my body between it and the back door. Then I carefully turn the nob on her house door, gliding it wide-open. Stealthily stepping in my tennis shoes onto her hardwood, I gently close both doors behind me. The only noise I make is the click of the backdoor coming to a full close. Good thing she had her backdoor replaced a few years ago. An older one would have just broadcasted my entrance to the entire house with a loud squeak.
Now standing in her kitchen, I get the full gist of Melissa yelling.
“You think you can take my husband and my daughter? Who in the hell do you think you are?”
The anxious cracking in Melissa’s murderous voice is a clear indication she is off her rocker. I’ve seen this time and time again. Logical people’s tones don’t clearly justify holding someone at gunpoint as Melissa is doing right now. So to keep the woman from becoming trigger happy, I do the smartest thing I can in this sticky situation. I announce my arrival.
Lex
“Hey Lex, you home?”
Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Not now! This can’t be happening! Lincoln cannot be here! Out of all the days to drop by unexpectedly this is the worst.
Dear god, please make him leave, please keep him and Emma safe.
Unable to keep my eyes from cautiously watching twitchy fingers on the semi-automatic shot gun Melissa is wielding, I evenly, without deflection reply, “Yes, Linc, I am but you need to go home.”
“Why?” he questions, nearing my location. Then I hear it. The Lincoln ‘tell’. A low deep agitated grumble that starts in his belly and rolls into his throat, a noise I’ve heard a hundred times over.
“What’s going on here?” Friendly, loving Lincoln is gone, replaced by the terrifying no-nonsense cop. Even though I can’t see him with my tunnel vision singularly attached to shaky barrel of the shotgun that is still firmly aimed at my chest. I know he’s standing a few feet away, most likely in the doorway of my kitchen.
Melissa’s eyes switch from Lincoln and back to me. They widen further a contemplative gesture, her hands unable to maintain perfectly still more than a few seconds at a time. Riding high on nerves, little beads of sweat have formed and begun to drip down the sides of her face. She stands approximately ten feet directly in front of me, her body blocking the locked front door. The hope of her leaving without a scuffle is slowly diminishing as her expression hazes over into hardness.
“I’m not going to repeat myself. What is going on here?”
Why does he have to pull her attention from me, even for a moment? I don’t want that. I don’t want him anywhere near this place.
I don’t respond to his question. I watch in slow motion as the gun that was pointed at me is cunningly readjusted to a new target. Lincoln!
Something suddenly snaps inside of me. I feel myself lose it as the protective all-consuming mama bear residing deep within rears its massive head. I drop my raised arms to my sides, set my jaw, align my spine to stand tall and tighten my fists. It’s show time!
“Hey bitchy, bitchy, bitchy. Don’t you fucking point that gun at him! I’m the one you want.” I taunt her, my words steeped in the most poisonous venom.
“What did you say to me?” Melissa seethes, a rolling tremor wafting through her body as she snaps the gun back toward me.
“You heard me, bitch.” I mock, playing this dangerous game.
“Lex, shut up!” Lincoln, orders heatedly from a few feet away. I can almost feel his own protectiveness surging in the air surrounding us. Jesus, he’s a powerful man.
“This is between me and the crazy bitch; stay out of it Lincoln and leave. Take Emma with you.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Melissa clamors, twisting her body back in the direction of Lincoln.
“Hey, bitch, do you want to hear all about how Gage and I made love this weekend.”
My comment breaks her momentum and the aim is back on me.
Good!
I realize, I too, am out of my mind. Playing with fire, asking to get burned, I don’t care though. My self-preservation flies out the window when it comes to my family. I’ll do anything to keep them from being harmed. Even if that means impertinently slugging low blows to the psychopath with a loaded gun.
“If you don’t shut that stupid mouth of yours, I will.” Melissa threatens; the haze in her eyes deepens, marking me the sole object of her hate and murderous desire, just as I had hoped.
“Stop this right now!” a different, sexier voice commands in a growl. Breaking the hold I have on Melissa, she shakes her head as if she needs to clear it.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I question Gage in a tone I’ve never used with him before, one of pure anger. I don’t know how he knew she was here, or why he is here. But this is the worst-case scenario. Melissa’s hate for him may just be a fraction larger than the torch of animosity she proudly carries for me.