Page 53 of You're so Bad

“What the fuck, Leonard?” she asks.

“It’s okay,” I say, although whether I’m trying to comfort him or her, I’ve got no clue. I mean, it probably doesn’t feel okay to Reese. Hedidjust get kicked in the nuts after witnessing something he shouldn’t have seen. I pick my shirt up off the floor and shrug it on.

Everything’s spun out of control so quickly I have whiplash, like that time I had to stop my car right quick on the I-4 in Florida because, I shit you not, an alligator was crossing. I can still taste Shauna, still hear her breathy little moans. I’d much rather be in that moment than this one, but what can you do? Time has a way of taking away good things. Bad ones, too, because sometimes—rarely—it has mercy.

“You know him?” she asks, turning on me.

One of her tits looks like it’s in danger of popping out of her dress and giving Reese a show—something he’ll notice as soon as he gets over the shooting pain in his balls. I’m surprised by another pulse of protectiveness as I reach over and fix it.

“Yeah, I know the kid,” I tell her in an undertone.

That word gets another gasp, her eyes flying to Reese.

“He’s a kid?”

“Does he look like he’d qualify for an AARP card?”

“Oh my God,” she says, taking a step toward Reese. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I mean, youwerebreaking into Leonard’s house.” She pauses, then adds, “Are you the one who stole his truck?”

“No,” the kid says, hands up. He seems absolutely terrified of Tiger. “I never even saw the truck. Leonard said I could crash here.” Then, turning to me, he continues, “I didn’t know you were bringing your girlfriend back. I swear.”

Now, he seems terrified ofme. My father once beat me blue for walking in on him with one of his side chicks. Then he told me what would happen if I breathed a word to my mother.

I didn’t. And she didn’t ask me who’d given me the bruises. She never did.

Maybe this kid’s foster father is the same way.

I lift my hands, trying to give off what Danny would call calming energy, even though I’m so worked up I’m probably putting out the opposite. “I’m not upset with you, man, but why’d you break in? I told you to text me next time.”

“I did, but you didn’t answer, so I figured I’d try the door. You didn’t fix the deadbolt like you said you were going to the last time I broke in.”

Shauna looks at me with wide eyes that say I’m an idiot. “Thelasttime he broke in?”

“Who’d you think the cereal was for?” I ask with a shrug.

“You, you man child,” she says. “I need to talk to you in the other room.Now.”

I rub the back of my neck.

“You better go, man,” Reese tells me, his hand still over his balls like he’s worried Shauna might go in for another jab if he lifts it. “When my grandmother used that tone, she meant business.” I want to ask what happened to her, but it’s clear enough. She must be dead or gone, like his mother. He doesn’t have anybody on his side except for me, or else he wouldn’t be here.

That’s not a good situation to be in—for him or for me.

The back of my neck feels like it’s burning, and not in a good way. There are too many people relying on me. Burke, for the flip jobs. Shauna, to pose as Doc. Reese, to help him out with whatever shit he has going on. And then there’s Bean…

Bean.

I need to feed her and get her upstairs to my room. That I haven’t is further proof that I can’t take care of myself, let alone another person or cat.

“Don’t leave,” I tell Reese. “You can crash on the couch again, but first have some cereal. I got it special for you.”

He spots the box on the table and lights up like a slot machine that’s about to give someone some sugar. “Brand name.”

“I know, right?” I say, patting him on the back. “How those stitches treating you, Reese with one S?”

I’m getting a death glare from Shauna. I can feel it as surely as that knock to the head I got the other day.

“They hurt like hell. Is that normal?”

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