Page 90 of Wild Hit
Audrey hears the name. She tears her eyes off the camera and lands them on me. There’s real fear in her face now.
Something twists in my gut, visceral and burning rage. I hate that a moment ago she was happy and now this.
“Audrey, Marty.” I swallow down the hot lump in my throat. “Can you wait for me at home?”
“But—” Audrey starts.
“I can hear the sirens already,” I explain, calmer than I really feel. It’s not a lie, either. But I don’t want them to have to deal with the rest of this mess. “Go, please.”
My daughter’s the one who grabs onto Audrey’s hand and pulls her toward the house—our house.
*
It takes a couple of hours to deal with the mess. Of course the piece of dung tries to convince the cops that I’m the one who assaulted him. Fortunately, not only Audrey and Marty witnessed the thing, a couple of different neighbors stepped forward as witnesses backing up my account. I get my cousin involved, anyway. If we have to get legal involved, my agent is the best person to manage that.
What’s stored in his camera also paints the picture. He’d captured all angles of the house, entrances, where the security cameras were, and even Audrey’s car that’s still parked in her driveway. It takes no rocket scientist to deduce that he was gonna park around here, capture every moment of our lives, and feed the information to Henry what-the-hell-is-his-problem Vos.
I didn’t share with the cops that the reason the rich man baby is doing this is because he believes my marriage with Audrey is fake. That’s what he was trying to find proof of, and maybe also something that could ruin my reputation as a standup pro baseball player.
Joke’s on him because the marriage is very real—on paper—and the most scandalous thing I do is drink orange juice straight out of the carton. I always keep a separate carton for Marty, anyway, so why dirty any cups?
“Ugh.” I drag my feet home once law enforcement finally drives off.
By this point, even the fortunately nosy neighbors have given up and gone back home. I’m going to make sure Marty and Audrey are okay, and then I’m laying facedown on the nearest surface.
I’ll proceed to wallow in shame the rest of the night. Something went off in me and I was just trying to protect, but I got pretty intense out there. Or put plainly, I was a neanderthal. I don’t know how to make that up to my kid and Audrey.
So much for being a calm force, for being able to talk someone down from an anxiety attack. I wouldn’t be surprised if instead I’m the reason Marty and Audrey freaked out.
Slowly, I open the door into my house, and I force myself to lift my eyes and face whatever awaits.
A boulder slams into me. I stumble back against the door, slamming it shut with my body. Barnacles squeeze around me with shocking strength. In front of me, Audrey’s watching the whole thing with wide eyes and a pale face. The barnacles start wailing.
“Marty?” I ask, struggling to understand what’s happening.
All that comes out of her is muffled wailing against my stomach. Her arms are so tight around me that she probably could’ve kept the intruder pinned against the ground.
“I—Uh…” My mouth flaps open and shut, but instinct kicks in and I wrap my arms around the trembling twig that is my daughter. “It’s okay, Marty. You’re safe now.”
“Not me!” she yells, finally looking up. Rivers of tears and snot run down her angry little face. “You! I was afraid something would happen to my dad!”
A sob comes out of her and she buries her face in my T-shirt again.
I look up at the stoic older woman, wondering what the hell happened in the course of these past hours. But her chin is trembling too, and her pretty eyes are starting to turn into puddles.
“What am I doing?” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I can’t believe I put you two in danger.”
My lungs cease to function for a moment. I free one hand and reach of Audrey, drawing her closer. She comes willingly as the first tears start to fall. I swipe them away with my calloused thumb, but more of them keep spilling out.
“That’s not true,” I explain, still missing air in my lungs. “Henry Vos is the one who did.”
“But…” Audrey looks away, biting her trembling lower lip. “It’s still my fault.”
Sighing, I say, “come here.” I spread my arm open and she takes the invitation, snuggling into Marty and I. My daughter shifts to wrap one barnacle around the unsuspecting woman, who is now going nowhere no matter what she tries.
I guide her head to rest against my chest, and soon she’s grabbing fistfuls of my T-shirt and also letting it all out on it. Two hot and wet patches compete for attention, but I do happen to have two hands. I stroke the backs of both of their heads, surprised at the difference in texture and still the similar softness.
They were both so damn happy, singing along with the Korean pretty boys like it was the only important thing in the world.
