Hadley & Grace(60)

She glances at Hadley to see if she’s noticing, but Hadley is not looking at the dance floor, her focus on her drink in front of her, whiskey from the looks of it, the pitcher of beer gone. Miles is in his car seat, and Skipper is asleep on the bench. A flicker of concern crosses Grace’s mind, but it is distracted by a reed-thin boy who has walked up and is asking Mattie if she’d like to join him for a Coke.

Mattie glances at Grace for permission, which throws Grace off, as she isn’t used to having any sort of authority over anyone. Then, realizing there is an awkward pause, she gets it together and offers a nod, the swelling in her chest ballooning as she watches them walk off toward the bar. Halfway there, Mattie throws a smile back over her shoulder, and Grace gives her a double thumbs-up, the swelling growing to near bursting.

“Your sister?” Burt says.

“No, we’re not related,” she says, though it doesn’t feel that way. At this moment, it feels very much like Mattie is blood.

“Darts?” Burt offers.

Grace glances back one more time at Hadley, Skipper, and Miles. They seem fine, so she turns to follow Burt to the game room.

They’ve taken two steps when Mattie runs up to them. “We need to go,” she says, her eyes wide. She shoots a look back at the boy who asked her to join him for a Coke. He sits at a table beside the bar, smiling at his phone.

“He knows who we are,” Mattie says. “He’s some sort of crime buff, and he saw us on the FBI crime site this morning. He said he wanted to take a selfie; then, as soon as he did, he was like, ‘My friends are going to love this. Me and an outlaw.’ Then he said the thing about seeing us on the site.”

“Frick,” Grace says.

“What’s going on?” Burt asks.

“Mattie, go to the car.” She hands Mattie the keys.

“Something wrong?” Burt says.

“No.” Grace paints on a sweet smile. “Everything’s fine. Adolescent drama. Thanks for the dance.” She walks from him to the kid, who is still smirking at his phone.

She swipes it from his hands.

“Hey,” he says.

“You think it’s cool to hang with outlaws?” she says, her gaze piercing his. “Here’s a tip: don’t mess with a woman who has a gun and knows how to use it.”

His face blanches.

She looks down at the screen. Snapchat. She deletes the post of him and Mattie with the hashtags #scoringwithanoutlaw, #sizzlinghot, #patsbarbeque. Then she opens his photo library and deletes the photo.

“Did you post it anywhere else?”

His face still white, he shakes his head.

“If I find out you’re lying, I will come back here, hunt you down, and castrate you like a newborn bull.” She uses her most badass look, the one that is icy calm and that Jimmy says would scare the bejeezus out of anyone.

The kid nods numbly, and satisfied he’s sufficiently terrified, she gives him back his phone, pulls a twenty from her pocket, and sets it on the bar. “For the sodas,” she says, then walks away. It’s always best to leave people liking you.

She marches to Hadley. “We need to go.”

Hadley’s head is collapsed on her arms, three empty glasses in front of her. She looks up through red-rimmed eyes. “Grace,” she slurs. “Hi, Grace. Are you having fun? You’re a good dancer. You should dance more often—”

“Hadley, stop talking.”

Hadley stops, her mouth suspended midword.

“We need to go,” Grace repeats.

Hadley shakes her head, then drops it back to her arms. “You go back to dancing. I’m just going to take a little rest.”

“Judas frigging Priest. Hadley, get up.”

“It’s funny that you don’t swear,” Hadley says, looking up through drunk eyes. “It’s like you should totally swear because it fits your personality, but then you don’t. It’s funny.”

Grace rolls her eyes. “Hadley. Get. Up.”

“Where’s Mattie?” Hadley says, looking around Grace as if she might be hiding her.

“She’s waiting for us in the car.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Hadley attempts to stand but immediately falls back to the bench, jostling it and causing Skipper to tumble to the ground. He startles awake and thrashes to a sitting position, his eyes darting side to side to remember where he is.

Grace helps him up as he wipes the sleep from his eyes. “Skipper, do you think you’re strong enough to carry Miles to the truck? I need to help your mom.”

“I don’t need help. I’ve got this,” Hadley says, pushing herself up again and grabbing for her crutches, one of them falling from her grasp to dangle from the bench.

Grace hands the car seat to Skipper, and it takes all his strength, but with great determination, he lugs it toward the door.

“Watch out for cars,” Hadley slurs after him.

Grace sighs out through her nose, hoists the backpack onto her shoulders, slings the diaper bag across her chest, grabs the crutch that fell with her right hand, then wraps her left arm around Hadley’s waist to support her. They take a step, and the diaper bag falls forward and nearly knocks them to the ground.

“You need to carry the backpack,” Grace says.

Slipping from beneath Hadley’s arm, she threads the pack onto Hadley’s shoulders, adjusts the diaper bag so it’s slung behind her instead of in front of her, then picks up the extra crutch again and wraps her arm around Hadley’s waist. This time, she manages to drag Hadley toward the door, Hadley’s crutch-step motion missing every third stride and nearly buckling Grace each time.