Page 16 of Blue

“I dunno. She hasn’t wanted to talk before. And she’s painting her nails,” his son said hesitantly.

“I know. Could you just try?” Mooky asked.

“Star,” River hollered, not quite into the phone but close enough Mooky had to pull the cell away from his ear. The boy had the awareness of a damn goat sometimes. “Dad wants to talk to you.”

Straightening his posture, Mooky inhaled deeply. Bracing himself for the worst, he waited for Starla.

His daughter hadn’t spoken to him since the night of his last arrest. She’d asked if he was okay after the cops put handcuffs on him and Angela. Doing his best to be a good father, despite the situation, he’d reassured her. He kept to himself it wasn’t his first time in silver bracelets. Whether or not she knew it, this didn’t seem like the time to bring it up.

Picking at a worn sticker on the pump, he waited for his daughter. On one level, he understood the moodiness of kids her age, the rebellion and whatnot. However, he needed to check in with her as her father. It’d been a week since seeing her parents carted off by the cops. The cops she’d called—yeah, that did some damage.

Therapy. When he got home, he needed to make appointments for both of them. They had to speak with a professional after all the shit they’d been through. He didn’t trust Angela to set that shit up.

Mooky didn’t think he was the best father in the world. He fucked up left and right for sure. He tried his best and did what he could. One thing he got right was he loved his kids. That meant he’d keep trying to follow up with Starla about the impending divorce and how she handled what all went down. Which meant he’d keep calling her even if she wouldn’t come to the phone.

If she didn’t want to communicate with him, well, he’d find someone else for her to talk to about it.

“Hey.” Starla sounded breathy—nonchalant and disinterested.

Color him surprised. She actually came to the phone.

Her defiant front made him smile.

“Hey,” he echoed, doing his best to hide his relief.

The worst thing he could do would be to come off too eager. He might not be an expert, but he knew about kids—especially his.

“How’s it going with Grammy?” he asked, doing his best to pretend it were any other day and nothing dramatic had happened recently.

“Fine.”

Nodding, he expected the curt answer. “I wanted to apologize to you. You shouldn’t have been in that position.”

Silence.

Damn. Of course she’d to make him work for it.

Taking a deep breath, he turned his back to the gas pump and let his head fall. “Ilet it get out of control.”

He wanted to take the responsibility off her shoulders and put it squarely where it belonged—on him. He was the adult. She was the kid. She didn’t get to carry the burden of grown folk problems.

“This has been a long time coming. It should’ve been handled years ago.”

“It’s not just your fault,” she interrupted. “You both messed up. I’m pissed atbothof you. Just figure it out. You two don’t want to be together anymore. Obviously. So, end it. I have no idea what the holdup is.”

Smart as a whip. Damn kid. He needed to remember that.

“We’re working on it,” he replied, trying to be diplomatic for the kids’ sake.

He could spare her the dirty details between her parents.

The dramatic sigh came through the phone, and his heart pinched. She was far too young to be dealing with his adult problems. She was a damn kid. She didn’t need this bullshit.

“I know,” she mumbled.

“I’ll get it done,” he vowed.

“I know.” She didn’t sound convinced.

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