Hold On (The 'Burg #6)(12)

“There were other ways to give that to our son,” he retorted.

“There were?” I asked, stepping back. “You a bitch with a vagina who’s got nothin’ but a high school diploma and a history of waitressin’ who got herself knocked up and her man bailed, stealing four days of tips she had in her wallet and her change jar before he went?”

He flinched, but I didn’t let up.

“You a bitch who’s got no savings, living in a shithole apartment she can’t raise a kid in, desperate to find the cash to set up somethin’ good for her baby in a way she can keep it good? You know,” I threw out a hand and injected my voice with sarcasm, “outside of buyin’ a lottery ticket that hits or turnin’ to another profession that’s looked down on a whole helluva lot more than strippin’?”

“There had to be ways,” he stated.

“Name one,” I shot back.

“There are ways, Cheryl.”

“Name one,” I repeated.

“A secretary,” he threw out.

“I can’t type.”

“Grocery store clerk.”

“No way in f*ck either of those earns more than stripping.”

He set his teeth.

“And, just sayin’,” I kept on, “you don’t get to stand in my kitchen passin’ judgment on what I had to do to take care of my son after you got the news you planted a kid in me, f*cked me all night as your good-bye, stole my money, and took off not to be seen again until your bitch yanks your chain and makes you be a good boy.”

“Leave Peggy outta this,” he ground out.

At that, I threw up both hands. “The woman’s not already in this?”

“This is about Ethan. Just Ethan.”

He was so full of shit.

This was all about Peggy. What she wanted. How she felt about me. It was all her.

But I decided Trent’s current shit was over.

“You fight me, Trent, I’ll take you down.”

He shook his head, his upper lip curling before he spoke.

“In your wildest dreams, you cannot imagine that a bartender who works nights, barely sees her kid, depends on her mom and friends to raise him, and puts his ass in a shitty house in a shitty ’hood is gonna convince a judge to let her keep her kid. You cannot imagine that same woman, who got paid to shove her tits in strangers’ faces and sucked a serial killer’s cock while she helped him stalk his prey, is gonna convince a judge to let her keep her kid. And you cannot imagine that a judge is not gonna look at what Peg and me can give him and not hand him right the f*ck over.”

I didn’t hesitate with my reply.

“You push this, we get a stick-up-his-ass judge who wouldn’t see that for what it was and let me keep my son, I bet all I own that if Alexander Colton takes the stand and vouches for me, that judge’ll think again.”

Trent’s mouth got tight.

Direct shot.

I didn’t let up.

“Put Feb up there, her and Colt bein’ that prey Denny Lowe stalked, also bein’ my boss, also lettin’ me look after her kid when she needs me, that judge’ll think even more. And they’ll do that for me. They won’t blink. They’ll wanna bury you so bad for f*cking with me, they’ll do anything they can. And they aren’t the only ones, Trent. My girl Violet Callahan and her husband, Cal. Jack and Jackie Owens. Morrie. Dee. Upstanding citizens. Pillars of the f*cking community. I’ll have so many people’s asses tellin’ that judge what kind of mom I am, he’ll wonder what the f*ck is wrong with you that you’d try to take my boy from me.”

“You seem convinced,” he scoffed.

“I’m not convinced. I’m goddamned right,” I shot back. “You’re all kinds of stupid, you don’t rethink this bullshit. I’ll stop at nothin’ to keep my boy with me. Do not doubt it. And I’m doin’ you a solid in advising you not to take that on. There’s been one constant in Ethan’s life.” I jerked my thumb to myself. “Me. No judge in his right mind will look at my history of givin’ it all that I got to give good to my kid and then take him away from me. You fight me, it’s a battle you’re gonna lose. But you fight me, you’re gonna lose Ethan, and that shit will not be about me takin’ you away from him. That shit’ll be about him knowin’ you’re f*ckin’ with his mom and him not wanting one single thing to do with you.”

Indecision flared in his eyes right before he turned, took the step he needed to nab the envelope off the counter, and shoved it in his back pocket.

He turned back to me.

“Seems I’m gonna need this to hire an attorney,” he declared.

“Right, good call. Take it. Works for me. Ten years Ethan’s been breathin’ and you haven’t given me a dime to help. I’m down with that. A judge, though, he might not be.”

“Screw you, Cheryl,” he bit out.

“You already did that, Trent, in a lot of ways.”

He scorched a glare at me, then walked out of my kitchen.

I stood in it and listened to him slam the front door.

Then I dropped my head and stared at my boots, finding myself breathing heavily.

I was not wrong. Colt, Feb, Vi, Cal, Jack, Jackie, everyone would help me.

Again.