Page 262 of Not Over You

I cross my arms and tap my foot. "You're stalling for time, lady." I walk over to her. "Come on, up, up, up."

"And away!" she says as she pushes off her chair's handrails and I slide her cane into her hand.

The dining room sliding glass door cranks open, and a mud covered, wide-eyed Kenny Brown angles through before slamming it shut.

Our eyes connect, and his are wild and panicked.

"Oh Jesus! Brooke, who is that?"

Aunt Trudy's nails dig into my wrist, and she leans heavily against me.

Hearing Aunt Trudy pops Kenny out of whatever fear-daze he was in. He pulls a pistol from behind his back and points it directly at us. "Get on the fucking floor."

My mind blanks, and I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience. All I can do is watch as my heart screams out for Mack. Where is he? Is he okay?

Duncan, the old basset, struggles to his feet, his ears flopping, and starts howling.

Kenny grimaces as though the sound is too much for him. "Shut that fucking dog up or I'm going to put a bullet in it."

Trudy starts to whimper, and Duncan starts to growl, taking two steps toward Kenny. "Kenny, he's old. He's not going to hurt you. He's just scared because you're yelling at us and he doesn't know you!"

Kenny walks over swiftly with jerky movements, as though he's stiff. "I don't have time for a fucking dog." He rears back and clocks Duncan in the head with the butt of his pistol.

"You bastard! Stay away from my boy!" Aunt Trudy waves her cane wildly at Kenny.

In the moment of distraction, I reach for my back pocket and pull my cell phone out.

"Oh no you don't, bitch!" Kenny grabs the end of Aunt Trudy's cane and yanks it from her hand so hard she falls to her knees. Then he hits my wrist, and my phone drops and slides across the floor.

Dropping to my knees, I cup Trudy's shoulders and try to check in with her. “Are you okay? Does it feel like anything's broken?”

With tears in her eyes, Aunt Trudy shakes her head no.

Please God let Mack be okay and on his way.

I glance up and see Kenny pacing back and forth between the living room and the dining room, mumbling to himself.

"That fucking bitch, she should have just stayed good and dead. But no, the Brockers have to buy everything and stir shit up. Well, Sherry deserved what she got. She thought she could come into my bar and flirt with all those guys and then try to play the prissy, virgin girl with me."

Kenny's voice grows louder and louder. "So I shot a cop. So what? I can shoot whoever the hell I want. I don't give a shit anymore. No one ever gave a shit about me. Why should I give a rat's ass about anyone else? Why should I follow the rules when everyone else breaks them?"

"Brooke, he's nuts. You have to get out of here."

Kenny walks over and bends down in Trudy's face. "I told you to get on the ground and shut up." He takes his right boot and kicks her stomach. Her oxygen tubing works loose from behind her ears.

I reach for it, but Kenny stomps on it with his foot and slides it across the floor toward my cell phone.

My fear dissipates, and rage washes over me. "What the fuck is your problem, Kenny?"

Kenny stops pacing and levels a glare at me, starting to laugh. "Oh! I'm sorry, is the other Sheridan bitch talking to me? Now you want to talk to me, do you?"

He starts pacing again. "You didn't have the time of day for me at the Brockers’ party or when I took a tour of this fucking stupid-ass development. You acted as though you'd rather get a root canal. But now you want to talk to me?"

I glance at my cell phone resting several feet away from me near the sliding glass door in the dining room. It's too far away for me to reach if I try and make a lounge for it.

"Why are you doing this?" I could care less. I just need to get him talking and keep him talking so I can figure out how to get Aunt Trudy and myself out of here.

That's when I see it. Movement. My heart leaps, and hope surges through me that we might have a chance of making it out of tonight alive. Someone's moving out there. Someone is here.

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