Misfit(280)
“When’s that going to be?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly, sounding like a vulnerable woman, not the touch bitch he knew.
“Me and you didn’t get off on the best start, but you like a mama to me. I already lost my mother too early. I don’t want to lose you.”
“We all have to die, baby. Some of us sooner than others. Don’t mean we want to go.”
“I just…Fight, Roxanne. This might be selfish as fuck for me to say. You not saying if you in pain or where the cancer at. If it’s curable. Nothing. But, fight. Harley wouldn’t know what to do without her glam-ma.” Roxy said she was too young and glamorous to be an ordinary grandmother.
“I’m not saying nothing. I’m scared and I don’t want to jinx myself.”
“Is there anything I can do for you? On the real. Bailey…without you and K-P, I wouldn’t have her. You raised an amazing, smart, beautiful woman who belong to me. What makes her hurt, makes me hurt, too.”
Another sniffle and laugh. “K-P looking down on all of us, smiling. He always thought of you as a son. With the way you treat our Bailey, he’d worship you. K-P loved that child something fierce, and his eyes wouldn’t be big enough to see Harley and Lou. You a fine man, Mortician, more than worthy of Bailey. More than capable of taking care of her with me alive or not.” She released a noisy breath. “Now, let me go and call my baby and talk some sense into her. Bye, Magician.”
Before Mort could get himself together, she’d hung up. Feeling as if the world had upended, he covered his face with his hands.
A few minutes of silence went by before the door opened, and Meggie and John Boy walked in.
Meggie hurried to him. “Are you okay, Mortician?”
He didn’t want her to worry, so he nodded. “Yeah. Just talked to Roxy. She about to call Bailey and you know how difficult Roxanne can be.”
“Omigod! You talked to Roxy.” Something in his expression made her lean closer. “What’s wrong? Is she…will she be all right?”
“Roxanne always all right,” he answered, getting to his feet. He wouldn’t be responsible for upsetting Meggie and having Prez shoot his ass off.
Meggie drew her brows together.
“What you and Johnnie doing?” he asked, to change the subject, sending a message over Meggie’s head that he hoped Johnnie read. The motherfucker had been silent since they’d walked in. He looked angry, too. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing,” Meggie answered as Johnnie fumed, “two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
“For your wife, moron.”
“No fucking wedding in the fucking known world costs that fucking much. You’re out of your fucking mind, Megan. I’m not giving you that much money for anything.”
“Yes the fuck you is,” Prez snarled from the door. “One, cuz you hollered at my woman. And, two, cuz my woman planning your bitch shit. Cough up the fuckin’ money or take over the shit your-fuckin-self.”
“She won’t even tell me why the fuck she needs all that money, Christopher.”
Meggie snatched her phone from her back pocket and scrolled through, then shoved it in Johnnie’s face. “This is one thing Kendall wants. I found it on this site and it’s on sale.”
Mort looked over Johnnie’s shoulder. “Red want a crown?”
“A thirty-five-thousand-dollar tiara?” Johnnie asked, appalled.
“Yeah, baby, that’s a lotta fuckin’ money. I can save you thirty-four-thousand, nine hundred, ninety-nine dollars and one cent. Just go to the dollar store. Stop this motherfucker from having a fuckin’ fit while still keepin’ Kendall happy.”
“Shut. Up,” Meggie snarled, glaring at Prez, who shrugged.
“Why he gotta write you a check any-fuckin-way? All you gotta do is find what the fuck you need, then bring him the invoices.”
“And go through this every time, Christopher?” Meggie asked in frustration. “Besides, I don’t want him to know about her wedding gown.”
“I’m just askin’,” Prez said, heading to the bar and getting bottles and glasses for them to put on the table. “Motherfucker givin’ you the money like I said.” He poured Johnnie’s drink first. “Look at it this fuckin’ way, with Megan plannin’ it, all the fuck you gotta do is show up at the church.”
“The fittings, too,” she added. “Don’t forget that. All of you.”
Drink halfway to his mouth, Prez paused. “What the fuck you talkin’ about? What fuckin’ fittins?”