Nightbred(66)

“That’s not it.” Chris glanced at Bug, who threw his hand down in disgust. “You never told your friends?”

“No one’s fucking business.” He grinned as he looked over her head. “Your old man owes me two hundred bucks, though, Christi.”

“I heard you the first time.” Chris turned to Loot. “It’s not because of the bugs he eats on the bike. He’s named after the letters B-U-G, for—”

“Christi?”

The sound of the voice behind her made the cards fall out of Chris’s hand. She gazed over her hand-winning full house at Bug. “You knew he was coming here?”

“Whose chair do you think you’re sitting in, sweet cheeks?” Bug jerked his head as he stood up, and Cody and Loot followed him outside, leaving her alone with the man behind her.

“Christi. Jesus. What are you doing here, honey?”

“Buying information.” Chris waited as he moved around to face her. “Hi, Daddy.”

He stared at her before he headed for Bug’s cooler. “I need a drink.”

Chris watched him. Over the eight years since the last time she’d seen him, Frankie Lang had put on fifty pounds, tanned himself to a muddy bronze, and lost most of the hair atop his head. He wasn’t fat, exactly; she could still make out some of the muscles in his arms and chest, and his surf-god face hadn’t bloated too much. Older chicks in dimly lit bars were probably still receptive to his bullshit.

But here under the naked bulb hanging over Bug’s card table, Chris could see that the booze had busted a hand’s width of capillaries on and around his nose. He’d always loved Southern Comfort, and from the faint yellowing of the whites of his eyes SoCo had returned the favor by fucking with his liver. She saw a scar on his chin she couldn’t remember, and the sulking droop of his mouth that she’d never forgotten. Unlike her, Frankie Lang had never growed up.

“Bug tell you to come down here?” her father asked as he sat down across from her. “I’m fine, you know. I laid off the hard stuff last summer.” He lifted his bottle and drained a third of the contents before taking a breath. He seemed to realize then that she hadn’t said anything, and tried again, this time with a wavering grin. “So, how have you been, kid?”

“How have I been?” She pretended to think. “When you didn’t come home that night, I was confused. When Mom started to fall apart, I was scared. Hungry, too—the food started to run out right after you and the money did. When the bank foreclosed on the house and kicked us out on the street, I was terrified. When they put Mom in the nuthouse and me in foster care, I was a basket case. But then, so was Mom.”

“That’s too bad.” He reached across the table and tried to take her hand. “Your mom’s doing okay now, though, right?”

Chris couldn’t believe it. Could not. “Mom killed herself two years after you bailed. Exactly two years to the day.”

He drew his hand back. “Sorry to hear that. Adele never was right in the head. Hey.” Frankie jolted back as Chris shoved the table into his chest. “It’s the truth, Christi. And it wasn’t because of me, either. She’d been seeing shrinks all her life, long before me.”

“So, what, you think she was better off slitting her wrists and bleeding out in the bathtub?” Chris demanded.

Frankie swallowed. “They told you how she offed herself?”

“I know how she did it because I’m the one who found her.” She wanted to describe every horrific detail so he could enjoy a few nightmares, but if she did, she’d puke up the beer. “After the funeral my grandmother blamed me for Mom’s suicide and turned me over to the state. I went back into foster care. Don’t you look at me like that. Like you’re sorry for me.”

“Can’t help it,” he muttered. “I am. No kid should have to deal with what you been through. If I could go back and change things, Christi, I would.”

“The hell.” The laugh that tore out of her hurt her throat. “I can’t believe you’ve been here in the Keys, all this time. I should have guessed. Drinking and screwing around were the only two things you were ever good at. Well, at least now I know.” She gestured at the door. “You can run away again now.”

He started to get up, and then dropped down. “I got one thing I gotta say.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, I’ve heard all I ever need to, Daddy.”

“It’s why I took off,” he snapped, and then looked immediately ashamed. “The night before, Adele got drunk and we had a fight about you. She said you weren’t my kid. That some other guy got her pregnant.”