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“How many other kids do you have, Derby?” Dez asked, eyes wide with awe. “I got two with my old lady. Both girls. We’ve been trying and trying for another one. Either my cum is defective or her eggs?”
“You do know there are tests for that shit, huh, bruh?” Digger asked, finishing his vodka and eyeing Mort’s.
“I will break your fucking fingers if you touch my shit, son,” Mort warned.
“Fuck, that hostility uncalled for, Mort,” Digger said. “But back to Derby’s son. What about the motherfucker?”
“He’s gay,” Derby announced, shocking the fuck out of everyone. “Outlaw knows. He had a situation he seemed on the fence about, so I told him about Oscar.”
Mort would bet that “situation” had to do with his sister, Ophelia, and her relationship with her motherfuckers, Cash and Stretch.
“Oscar’s sexual preference never mattered to me. That’s my boy, and I love him. His mother isn’t as forgiving. When she found out, she called him every name under the sun. I stood there like a dumbass, instead of jumping to his defense. My silence hurt the fuck out of him. He swore I felt the same way. Otherwise, I would’ve stopped her or called her out or reminded her what a good son he’s always been. It put the worst fucking strain on our relationship. We almost didn’t recover.”
Clenching his jaw, Mort nodded and glanced away. Harley believed him little more than a weak ass kisser. At any point, Bailey could’ve corrected her. Or, better, stopped her.
“Kids divide and conquer, Mort,” Boy told him. “Even if you and Bailey disagree, in front of your children show a united front.”
He’d said as much to her earlier. Bailey hadn’t agreed. She wanted him to say Harley was right,period. How their daughter saw him didn’t bother her because, according to Bailey, she didn’t believe Harley truly felt that way. She was hurt he took CJ’s side instead of hers.
The disintegration of his marriage was happening in slow degrees, yet the result would still be divorce.Hedidn’t want that. He adored Bailey. However, it took two to make a relationship work. If Bailey had already checked out, then all was lost.
Chapter Seventeen
Violent shaking disturbed Meggie’s sedated sleep. She forced her lids open. A blurry figure leaned over her.
“Megan?”
“Johnnie?” she whispered, sleepiness and thirstiness rasping her voice.
She closed her eyes again.
“You have to leave, sweetheart.”
He sounded gentle, almost kind, like her old friend.
She struggled to comprehend, twisting and turning in the confines of the hospital bed. “I can’t leave,” she mumbled. “I love Christopher.”
“Megan, look at me! Open your eyes.”
When she didn’t comply, he shook her again.
“Go away,” she cried, some of the sleep clearing from her head.
Johnnie turned on the fluorescent light directly over her bed, and she blinked. The sudden brightness hurt her eyes.
“You can’t stay. You know you want more children, but you’re putting it all on Christopher. Remember what I told you earlier tonight? You’ll be too unhappy if you can’t have kids. That’ll make him miserable.”
Confusion fogged Meggie’s brain. The words penetrated, and she shook her head, still so tired she could happily sleep for the next few hours. The incision ached; the pain, more than anything, was clearing away her fatigue.
Leaning over, Johnnie kissed her forehead, stared into her eyes, then stroked her cheek with more tenderness toward her than he’d exhibited in years. But his eyes were cold and flat, lacking humanity.
“Johnnie,” she said quietly, fear sipping into her.
Images of his strangulation flashed in her mind, and she shrunk back. If he attacked her, she was too weak to fend him off. By the time a nurse checked on her, it could be too late.
This time,heblinked. His nostrils flared. “Sleep,” he told her, and pulled away. A moment later, he flicked off the light and threw the room back into darkness.
When he opened the door to let himself out, light from the hallway slivered in.
