So. Long(245)
“I just bet you will.” Buck’s voice is steely and hard. “I’ll take her up to bed. You guys have a good night. Sadie’ll make sure you get what you need to bed down.”
I elbow Buck. “Leave me ‘lone, Buck. These are my pleoples. You go back to your persons. You have your popells call my peoples tomorrow. Tonight we’re having drinks. And dollars.”
I pull a few ones out of my pockets and waistband and hold them up in his fucking face. “See? You jus’ thought you could kleep me from dampcing. I’ll do whatever I wanna. I don’t need you noooo more, Buckner Wylder.”
Buck snatches the ones from my fingers and tosses them to the ground. I dive for them, because somehow they’re important right now, though I can’t remember why.
His arms come around my waist, pulling me to my feet. “C’mon, Lou. Let’s get you to bed before you hurl. You never could hold your liquor.”
I splutter. “I hold my lick—lock—drinks jus’ fine. Fuck you for caring.”
“I do care, Lou. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Why does he have to smell so good? Why can’t he be a different guy? Why can’t I be Hollywood skinny and be gonna have his baby?
I let out a big sigh. My eyes sting.
Russell stands, putting his hand on Buck’s arm.
“Uh oh.” I cringe.
Buck’s fist flies. And then, it’s all knuckles and pops and groans.
Two Marines and Mr. Hollywood.
This can’t end well.
* * *
Buck tucks the sheet around me.
I sniffle. “Go ‘way. You don’t care ‘bout me. You never cared. You only wanna boss me.”
He leans in and kisses my numb forehead. “I love you, Lou. We’ll talk tomorrow when you sober up.”
I put my finger on his split lip. “Who won?”
He winces and pulls my hand from his mouth. “I guess it was a draw.”
“Buck. You gots ta do what’s right by your babley.”
He rubs the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “It’s not my—”
“Glad I did never told him about our blaby.” Buck not coming back was bad enough. Being an asshole about our baby would’ve been even worse.
Buck sits at the edge of the bed. “Told who about what baby?”
Sleep beckons. My eyes drift shut.
His voice gets closer to my ear. “Told who? What baby, Lou?”
I let out the breath it seems I’ve been holding for five years.
“Wake up. Lou?”
TWENTY-TWO
Lou rolls over. Her face pinches as though she smells something bad. I push the hair out of her face, my chest tightening for the fiftieth time in the last seven hours I’ve watched her sleep.
Surely she’s not pregnant. Is she pregnant?
No. She wouldn’t get drunk like that if she were pregnant. Would she? No. No. Of course not.
I pull out my phone to quiet the voice screaming show me the money, my manager’s ringtone.
“Yeah, Bob?”
“Two things. First, Razor Wire called. They want to set up a conference call.”
“Razor Wire Entertainment. Tell me they aren’t canceling the production. Because that would be just about how life is going right now.”
“No, they want to talk dates.”
“Good. Just text me and tell me when. What else?”
“The other thing is that you’re killing me, Wylder. Fucking killing me.”
“You’ll live. The fifteen percent you get off my paychecks tells me you’ll live.”
“Yeah, yeah. I didn’t say I was quitting, I said you’re killing my ass.”
“What is it now?”
“Well, do a Marine and a campfire mean anything to you?”
Ah shit. “Yeah. Yeah. Pay them off. I don’t care. I’ve got other shrimp to boil right now.”
“It’s only the one. And I’ve already taken care of it; you just have to write the fucking check. But it’s costing you.”
“Well, it was two on one. Seems like those fuckers would be a bit ashamed of the fact that they couldn’t kick my ass, considering they’re supposed to be trained to kill and shit.”
“All some people care about is a pay day, Buck. Don’t you get it? You’re a meal ticket now. You have to stop using your fists to solve shit.”
“Whatever it is, just send me an email with the details. I’ll make sure it’s paid. I told you, I don’t have time for this. I’ve got fucking Arianne telling me she’s pregnant—speaking of which, how do I make her have a paternity test? She’s got to be fucking lying. There’s no way.”
Lou stirs at my side.
“I gotta go, Bob. Just take care of this shit, will you? Oh, and make sure there’s some kind of gag clause in there, no need for the world to find out about this.”