Play It Safe(126)

Oh my God.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, only my lips moving.

“Sheila Bailey your Momma?” he asked.

“She gave birth to me,” I answered, still talking quietly.

He nodded his head, a small smile cracking his face, “Yeah, see Sheila never changed.”

“No,” I whispered.

The smile fled and he stared at me, reading me like he knew me my whole life either because I was too stunned at what was happening to hide it or because he had more practice than me.

I figured it was both.

“She didn’t treat you good,” he whispered.

“No,” I repeated, that one, one syllable word weighty.

Hoot Booker read that too and emotions he didn’t try to hide either rolled over his face, more pain, anger, despair.

“That brother ‘a yours?” he asked when he got control of his emotional roller coaster.

“Dead to me.”

He knew what I was saying and I knew he knew when he whispered, “Fuck.”

“This is all very touching,” Buddy put in snidely and I finally moved, turning away from the door to face him and see his expression was even more spiteful than his tone. “Why am I not surprised that an ex-stripper doesn’t mind havin’ a murderer as a Daddy?”

“Think I told you, you’re done,” Hoot Booker reminded him and Buddy turned to my father.

“I am? What are you gonna do, big man? Kill me in front of your long, lost daughter?”

“No, but, the way she said hi, not sure she’ll mind I f**k you up a little bit,” Hoot returned and I couldn’t help it, a giggle escaped me.

Buddy’s eyes cut to me and he hissed, “Shut your slut trap.”

Then Buddy wasn’t there because Buddy was on his back in the snow-covered yard, Hoot’s knee in his gut, his calf in his arm immobilizing it, one hand at his throat, his other hand wrapped around Buddy’s wrist pressing it into the snow.

Oh God.

I moved to the edge of the porch but could go no further because I didn’t have any shoes on, just a pair of thick woolen socks so I cried, “Please, don’t! He isn’t worth the trouble. Honestly, he isn’t worth the trouble.”

But Hoot Booker didn’t even look at me.

Nose an inch away from Buddy’s, he whispered scarily, “You called my girl a slut right to her face and right in front of me.” He paused a scary pause and finished, “I don’t like that.”

Buddy kicked out his legs and snapped, “Get off me!”

Hoot lifted his head and aimed his eyes at me before he ordered, “Go in the house. You call the cops then you call your man.” When I hesitated, he clipped, “Now, girl. Go.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” I said softly, his head jerked and his face changed. It softened and under all that rough, weathered and worn I saw my father was handsome.

“Then keep me outta trouble by gettin’ some folks here to deal with this assclown before I lose it and do it myself,” he said gently.

I held his eyes then I nodded.

Then I ran into the house, dialed nine-one-one, told them what was happening then I called Gray.

He answered with, “Hey dollface. Remember something you need?

“Buddy’s here,” I replied. “He brought my father with him. He said a few things my father didn’t like and now my father has him pinned in the snow in the front yard.”

Silence then, “Say again?”

“Buddy’s here,” I started. “He brought my –”

Gray cut me off to rumble, “You are f**kin’ shittin’ me.”

“No,” I whispered.

“You are f**kin’ shittin’ me!” Gray roared.

Oh God!

“Honey, are you driving?” I asked carefully, reminding myself again to tread cautiously and not get lulled into stupidity by the usually easygoing Grayson Cody.

A moment while I suspected he deep-breathed then, “Yeah, on the way to Gran. I’ll be there in ten. You call the police?”

“Yes.”

Then I got, “This man, is he really your father?”

“Well, I can’t be sure but he’s got my hair, he said I was beautiful, he knew my Mom’s name and when Buddy called me a slut, he took him down in, like, a nanosecond.”

More silence and I didn’t get the same seriously unhappy vibes traveling over the airwaves that I did when I first shared my news so I didn’t know what this one meant.

Then I knew when Gray’s voice came on a vibrating, “He called you a slut?”

Okay.

Again.

Tread cautiously, Ivey!

“Gray –”

He cut me off. “You feel danger from this man, your father?”

“No.”

“Right. You get your f**kin’ baseball bat, you lock all the f**kin’ doors, not in that order, and you stay the f**k inside until I get there. Not the cops, me. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Gray,” I agreed as I moved to the front door.

“Do it now. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay, baby.”

“I’m done with this guy,” he whispered.

Shit!

“Honey, please stay calm.”