Page 73 of Unhinged

“Didn’t win the lottery, so no. But I got bigger news.”

Simone stops next to Amos as her blue eyes drag over my chest. I loved when they and her mouth were on my dick. “What?”

“Birdy ain’t mine. Shasta lied.”

She gasps, and her eyes fly to mine. “But…no.”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes fill with tears, and Amos asks, “Simone?”

When Simone doesn’t respond, I say, “You didn’t think she was mine, either. Why does it bother you now?”

Simone’s lips tremble, but her tears don’t fall. “I love her. She was your daughter. I thought you’d visit her, and I’d go with you.”

“You can still visit her, but I have no say.”

“Aren’t you the least bit sad?”

“Some, but she’s better off without me for so many reasons.”

Fat tears drip from Simone’s eyes. “How can you fucking say that?”

“My DNA had nothing to do with Birdy.”

“Neither did your heart.”

Amos puts his arm over her shoulders. “I know you cared about her. Maybe Shasta will allow you time with Birdy.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not the same, and Shasta hates me.”

I ask, “Why isn’t it the same?”

Simone glares at me. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“No, I don’t! Enlighten me!”

Simone wipes her cheeks and tells Amos, “I can’t be here. Please take me home.”

Amos cocks a bushy eyebrow, silently scolding me. For what?

Simone goes to the locker room, and Amos sighs. “Tell Milt that Simone is going home. Patrons will have to procure their own refills.”

“What the hell did I do to her, Amos?”

“This breaks her heart, Greg. Simone is a loving young lady. She had a bond with your daughter and looked forward to seeing her again.”

“Then she can have her own babies. Why is this my fault?”

Milt pokes his head through the kitchen door like he’s leaving a vagina. His poor mother. “Greg, I need you out here. Some snob convention.”

“Uh, yeah. Coming.”

As Simone leaves the locker room, Amos says, “Milt is in charge. I may be back later, though.”

“Okay.” I watch Simone leave without a glance in my direction, now noticing she wore a damn skirt. What a waste. Shouldn’t she be a little happy I didn’t father Shasta’s kid? If we’re supposedly friends, we should be celebrating. Preferably naked.

When Amos glances at me before heading out the door, I roll my eyes.

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