Page 56 of Hold Him Like Gravity

I stored it in the safe behind a picture in my office that I’d had installed during the renovations, keeping the dirty moneyseparated from the clean cash that was in the safe under my desk.

There was no rush in getting to balancing the books, but with nothing else to do to occupy my time meaning that all I would do was think about Kick and what we started before Coal interrupted the night before. So I sat down and got to work.

When I emerged hours later, shit wasn’t adding up.

I mean, it was just a couple grand off of where my figures said shit should have been. But there was the possibility that Renzo had given me less than he’d said. Or maybe my math wasn’t mathing.

It wasn’t enough that I was going to sweat about it. But the next time I balanced the books, I was going to pay closer attention to make sure it wasn’t a trend.

“Ma, the fuck’d you do to yourself now?” I heard Ricky ask as I made my way out front, mind on something to eat before I hit the streets along with the rest of the family to see if I could track down the assholes who’d jumped Coal.

“I wasn’t being careful when I was cleaning the meat slicer,” Kick’s voice reached me even before stepping into the front of the shop.

“Fuck, girl,” Ricky said, hissing. “Did you lose part of your finger?”

“No, thank God. It’s just a deep slice. I have butterfly closures on it.”

“So, Kick is off of sandwiches for a bit,” I said, watching as Kick’s head whipped over toward me. For a second, her eyes brightened. But way too quickly, the light faded and something darker took its place.

“Yeah, no big deal. I can handle that. Always plenty of stocking or cleaning to do,” Ricky said. He was a good manager because he was so ready to roll with the punches.

“I’m sorry to be a nuisance again,” Kick said, wincing at Ricky.

“Nah, don’t say that. We all have mishaps.”

“Oh! Speaking of,” Kick said, pressing a hand to her heart. “How is your son?”

“He’s good. Fell off his skateboard. Broke his arm. But the wife was scared shitless that he had a bad head injury. He was bleeding all over. Turns out his helmet sliced his head. Saved his brain, but did a little damage of its own.”

“I’m glad he’s okay,” Kick said.

“Kids’ll turn your hair white,” Ricky warned, waving at the streaks starting to weave through his hair at the temples. “You planning on having any?”

“Oh, I haven’t really given that a lot of thought,” Kick admitted.

“Eh, you’re young still. Good to get all the crazy out before you settle down. The kids will take up that mantle in due time. Yo, Marcus, you owe me fifty bucks on that game last night,” Ricky called as another employee came in the front door. “Can you believe that shit?” he asked, the two men starting to talk about the game as Kick tried to busy herself, doing everything she could, it seemed, to avoid looking at me.

“How’s the finger feeling?” I asked.

“It’s okay. I had a hell of a time trying to wash my hair one-handed this morning, but the splint definitely helps avoid hitting it too much. Though, Evander has taken it as a personal attack against him.”

“That cat’s a piece of work.”

“He definitely has a lot of character,” she agreed. And, again, the light that grew got tamped down by a strange sadness.

“Did you get some sleep?” I asked.

“Some,” she said, but the bags under her eyes told a different story.

“Hey,” I said, moving closer, towering over her. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“What?” she squeaked. “Nothing,” she insisted, but it took a second for her eyes not to seem so wide and worried.

“Babe, come on…”

“I’m just all off because of the insomnia,” she said, shrugging it off.

I wanted to press.

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