His nostrils flare and he sucks in a deep breath. “That’s not my baby, Lou. I’m telling you, it can’t be.”
“So say how many guys every year? Look, my dad split before I was born. It sucks to grow up fatherless. Don’t be that man. Surely you’re better than that. You used to be better than that.”
I close the door. Leaning against it, the pain from that box I shoved deep inside years ago digs its way out through my tight throat, leaving claw marks on my soul.
I slide to the floor, hot tears pooling in my eyes before spilling down my cheeks.
He hollers, “This ain’t over, Lou. I’m telling you, it isn’t my kid. That fuck trophy belongs to someone else.”
I wouldn’t expect any man to be happy about this kind of news, but still, to behave this way? Calling a baby—maybe his baby—a fuck trophy?
Maybe his leaving me behind all those years ago was a good thing after all. Too bad he didn’t stay gone.
I step into the living room.
Sadie looks up, startled.
She immediately points the remote at the television, mashing buttons and looking flustered. “Why won’t it turn off? What’s wrong with this thing?”
Aunt Delores snatches it from her. “Because it’s old like me and just as broke-ass.”
“What’s going on?” I say.
Sadie jumps up and stands in front of the screen. “Nothing. What’s going on with you these days, Cuz?”
Aunt Delores fans herself as she gets to her feet. “Lou, would you be an angel and get me something to drink?”
I turn toward the kitchen, but stop when whoever’s on the TV says, “Loula Fontaine, former U.S. Marine, appears to be taking money from Buck Wylder in this photo outside of a hotel nearby Mr. Wylder’s childhood home.”
I push Sadie aside. “What are they saying? What is this?”
My heart rate trips into double time as a photo of Buck handing me a wad of cash through my car window pops up on the screen.
“Holy shit.”
Sadie wrings her hands. “I’m sorry, Lou. I was trying to turn it off.”
Aunt Delores raises her hands to Heaven as she walks from the room, shaking her head. “I know there has to be some sort of explanation for that. If not, don’t tell me. I don’t even want to know.”
I sink to the sofa, head in my hands, stomach continuing on through the floor. “Damn it.”
It took less than twenty-four hours for that bitch to go to the press. How the hell she got pictures is beyond me—fuck.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket. My stomach sinks even further. If this is Buck…
Not Buck. Worse. It’s a text from Stephens.
-Hope you’re home. Be there in ten.-
Well, maybe they haven’t heard this shit yet. Maybe they’ll come and go before they see it. If not, fuck them. I can’t care about this right now. I had my reasons, and they can kiss my ass twice if they can’t handle it.
Four shot glasses clink above the fire pit behind Aunt Delores’s house. We down our drinks.
Sadie sits on Russell’s lap, smiling like she’s won a fucking lottery.
Stephens winks at me. “So you miss us, Fontaine?”
“Sure I do. Like you’d miss those crabs, if you could ever get rid of them.”
Stephens digs at his crotch, his tongue hanging out like the dog he is. “Is it that obvious?”
I bump Stephen’s leg with my bare foot. “You know, Stephens, you’re kinda cute. You might get laid more if you weren’t so fucking weird.”
“Oh, now you think I’m cute.” His brown eyes reflect the flames, his skin yellowed in the firelight.
I slosh another shot into my glass, tossing it back and savoring the bitter burn it brings. It’s good to let the liquor smooth out some of the wrinkles in my spirit for a little while. “Don’t get too excited, you’re still not getting laid.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Anyone want to place a bet? I’ve got fifty bucks that says Fontaine here will suck my cock before the night’s over if I can get another three or four shots in her.”
I spew my Cuervo and kick at Stephens’s gut. “Suck your cock, my ass. There isn’t enough tequila in Louisiana for that to happen.”
Sadie raises her glass. “I’ll take that bet. My cuz is a good girl. She don’t do that shit no more. Except for Buck.”
His name works like a wet blanket over my mood.
I let out a deep sigh. “Ain’t that kinda girl anymore either. No more Buck. No more fuck. No more Suck. Just a whole lotta trouble is all that shit gets me.”
Sadie hops up and wraps her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Lou. Here, let’s turn up the music. We’ll dance away your blues. I’mma give these here fine Marines lap dances for free.”