Page 70 of The Loves We Lost
“In that case, I’m gonna head out of Jersey instead. I wanna go see my girls.”
“Your girls?” King asks.
“My girls. Not gonna explain myself beyond you weren’t wrong, what you said earlier about loving your woman. Wasn’t ready to admit it, but I’ve loved Vi for a long time. Wanna get to know my daughter. Rather than being locked up here, I can be with them for a day or so.”
King grabs a beer from the bar and takes a large gulp. “Someone might need to use your room while you’re gone. You cool with that?”
I shrug. “I’d rather not have anyone in my stuff, but I get it if it becomes a problem. Just make sure it’s not Wrinkle. The guy’s asshole isn’t up to the kind of farts he lets out, if you catch my drift.”
“Noted.”
“Speaking of which, have you spoken to him about what those guys said? About there being an old-timer who is the father of the Righteous Brotherhood leader?”
King nods. “Spoke to all the old-timers. All of ’em admit it could be a possibility. But if this leader is one of their kids, they just don’t know about it.”
“So we wait for more details.”
“That’s all we can do. Don’t envy them if it’s true though. Someone’s going to have to make a difficult choice—the clubor their kid—because I don’t intend to let that fucker keep breathing.”
So instead of celebrating, I go home and sleep. And I get up sometime around ten to shower, pack, make sure the house is secured, and head out.
Fucking love riding in the sunshine. Love the idea that I’m riding toward my girls. I should perhaps stop somewhere closer to Vi’s place and pick up something for them. Toys. A cake. Who the fuck knows. I’ll wait till I get closer to be inspired.
I have a family.
They’re mine, even if Vi doesn’t accept it yet.
Maybe we can talk, and I can show her that we could be good with each other.
My excitement grows until, about ten minutes from Vi’s house, I decide to blow off getting them gifts because I just can’t wait to see them.
And at the same moment, a truck careens up behind me. He goes from a speck to a looming shadow in my side mirror. I speed up, as does my heart rate, as I try to move out of the idiot’s path, but he follows my every zigzag until, finally, he clips the rear wheel of my bike.
The bike swerves, a chaotic battle as I fight to gain control, to slow my momentum down. Anything to minimize the damage about to occur. And all the while, the truck stays right behind me, until I admit I can’t recover and focus on softening my landing. Trying to brake and regain control, I head for the shrubs that line the side of the road at a speed I know is going to hurt.
When the bike and I go over, I pray that my leathers and helmet do what they’re supposed to. With that, I let go of the handlebars and try to land clear of the bike.
Thankfully, the bike veers left as I roll right. And when I manage to come to a complete stop, I thank my lucky stars as I check my body. It’s sore in places, but nothing feels broken.
Then I look up and realize there are four men getting out of the truck.
“Picking them off, one by one,” one of them says.
And from the bat in one of their hands, it’s clear they aren’t here to check if I’m okay.
24
VIOLA
“Did you see my cannonball, Momma?” Avery asks from the back of the car as we pull into our neighborhood.
One of the girls in her class has a pool in their yard, so we’ve spent the morning over there and had some pizza with them for lunch before heading home mid-afternoon.
“I did.” Even though I’m unsure which of the million jumps into the pool she’s talking about. “You did so good.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
I wonder when I lost the ability to compliment myself. I’m aUSA Todaybestseller, yet I’m almost embarrassed by the title. I don’t get how I can be so excited when my author friends hit a list but feel myself so utterly undeserving when I do.
