Page 147 of American Hellhound
Maggie loved him so much it hurt.
And shehatedeveryone who looked at him like he was less than. The people in this restaurant, his uncle, Roman, everyone at school who’d asked her to score them drugs. Everyone looking at him now who saw a thug about to make trouble.
She saw a beaten-down man too afraid to dream, an angry father who couldn’t turn his life around, but who could by God stand up for his kid when bigger kids pushed him around.
Shelovedhim.
She nudged Aidan out of the booth and said, “Let me up, sweetie.” To Ghost: “Sit back down. I’ve got this.”
He looked furious. “Mags–”
“I’ve got this.”
She walked purposefully – but not aggressively – over to the arcade games and cleared her throat in a soft, polite way when she was standing behind the two boys who’d commandeered it. They were about thirteen, greasy, unwashed, reeking of hormonal boy.
“Excuse me,” she said, and they half-turned, expressions dull and unimpressed. “I’m sorry, but my boyfriend’s son was playing and he says you made him leave.”
The one on the left – pimple-faced and overweight – wiped his nose on the back of his hand and made a disinterested sound. “Yeah. So.”
She smiled at them. “Well that wasn’t very polite, was it?”
The one on the right – string-bean skinny, skullcap – shrugged. “So?”
“So I think it’d be nice if you’d let him play a few more minutes.”
“Whatever,” they both said, and started to turn away in unison.
Maggie leaned in close – damn, they smelled – and, smile still fixed, tone a cheery whisper, said, “Look here, shit-for-brains. This isn’t a request. I’m not asking nicely – I’mtellingyou that if you don’t give my kid five more minutes on this damn machine, I will put both your ugly heads through its screen. Do you understand? I’m not some stupid bitch you can say ‘whatever’ to. I’m a Lean Dog old lady, and I will hurt you if you don’t walk away right now. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
When she slid back into their booth and told Aidan, “Five minutes, kiddo, okay, then we need to head home,” Ghost stared at her, astonished.
“What’d you say to them?”
“Oh you know. Just used my debutante charm.”
He blinked. “Yeah. Sure.”
She grinned and reached for her Coke. “You think you’re the only one in this relationship who can scare the pants off people?”
“I don’t think thatanymore.”
~*~
“Hey, Maggie,” Aidan said as she was slipping out of his room.
She paused, hand on the doorknob, turning back to look at him all tucked cozy under the blankets. He was really too old for this nighttime routine, but it had started that first night she’d stayed with him, when she’d been his babysitter instead of his daddy’s live-in girlfriend. (Old lady, she reminded herself; that was what she’d told those kids.) That night, uncertain, nervous, she’d followed him to his room at bedtime, fluffed his pillows, made sure he’d brushed his teeth and didn’t need a drink of water. The next time, he’d gotten shy, wiggling his toes in the carpet, ducking his head. “Maggie, can you…” he’d started, biting his lip. He didn’t have to ask anymore; every night, she walked him to bed, perched on the edge of his mattress for a moment, and told him she hoped he had good dreams.
“Hmm?” she hummed now, questioning.
“Those boys thought you were really scary.”
She had no idea how to respond. It felt cruel to be pleased that she’d frightened a couple of middle school boys. But when Aidan flashed her a smaller version of his father’s crooked grin, she thought she’d do anything to make him smile.
“It was cool,” he said.
“Cool? You weren’t scared, were you?”
“No!” he said, scandalized, and she laughed.
