Colorado 02 Sweet Dreams (69 page)

I pressed into Tate, my body relaxing.

“Wow!” Carrie exclaimed and my body got tense again as I looked at my sister. “That
is
a pretty kitty.”

“Her name’s Princess Fancy Pants,” I blurted, Tate’s arm gave me a warning squeeze, I ignored it and finished. “She’s Tate’s.”

Carrie’s eyes flew to Tate and she giggled. “You named your cat Princess Fancy Pants?”

“Holy fuck,” Mack muttered.

“Her name is Buster,” Tate declared.

“
Her
name is Buster?” Mom asked, handing Tate a coffee.

“I like Princess Fancy Pants better,” Carrie decided.

“Tell your sister, she calls my cat that, she’s ejected,” Tate said to me as he took the coffee from Mom and I tried not to laugh.

“Um… Carrie, I was just joking,” I clarified. “Tate and Buster are tight. He’s protective and he
really
doesn’t like Princess Fancy Pants.”

Carrie watched Buster wind her way through Tate and my ankles and her lips were twitching when her eyes went to Tate then came to me and she murmured, “Right.”

“It’s going to be a long day,” Mom noted, her eyes on Mack. “Mack, pass me a cupcake.”

Mack grabbed a cupcake and handed it to Mom and I slid away from Tate and went to the sliding glass door. I looked until I found them, Dad and Jonas standing out in Tate’s drive, Jonas’s arm lifted to point at something.

I felt Tate move in behind me then I felt his arm around my chest pulling me into his body. I knew he was watching too and I knew he saw it when Dad said something to Jonas which made Jonas tip his head back and grin at Dad like he was exceptionally funny something my Dad could be. I knew this because Tate’s arm tightened reflexively.

Tate’s lips came to my ear.

“Special,” he muttered, I lifted my hand to curl my fingers around his forearm and I held on as I fought back tears.

* * * * *

Tate parked the Explorer in the parking lot of the funeral home, my family following us in their rental and parking on Tate’s side.

I undid my seatbelt, opened the door and jumped down then stilled when I saw Jonas had also jumped down and was instantly accosted by an older woman with lots of blonde hair. She was wearing a brightly colored gypsy skirt with sequins stitched in a pattern around the hem and little bells jingling at the bottom; a hot pink gypsy top that had flowing sleeves gathered at the wrists and a tie that gathered at the neckline; scuffed, fawn suede cowboy boots and lots and lots of silver and turquoise jewelry at ears, neck, fingers and wrists.

“Bubby baby,” she whispered, latched onto Jonas so that Jonas’s face was stuffed into her ample cleavage. His hands were at her waist in a way I couldn’t tell if he was trying to push away or hold on and she was rocking him roughly back and forth.

I got close. “Um, can I help you?”

She lifted her head to look at me with dark brown eyes flecked with tawny, eyes I knew very well.

Tate’s mother.

Wow.

Something washed over her face as she stared at me and I didn’t know her but I knew that something was not good.

I felt Tate round the hood of the SUV as I saw my family round the back.

“Mom?” Tate asked and she tore her eyes from me to look at Tate.

She unceremoniously let Jonas go so swiftly he listed to the side and she said, “Buck, baby.” Then she threw herself in Tate’s arms.

I moved to Jonas, pulling him carefully to my side with an arm around his shoulders, his arm slid along my waist and I looked at Tate to see he was holding his mother but his eyes were aimed over her head at me.

“I can’t believe it, baby, I can’t. I heard and I couldn’t believe it.” Her voice was heavy with tears, she tipped her head back and Tate looked down at her when she finished. “You must be devastated.”

“Mom –” Tate started.

“I mean
Neeta
,” she went on.

“Mom –”

“
Your
Neeta,” she continued.

“Mom, you wanna –”

“I never thought I’d see it, it’s like the end of an era. You were born two halves of a whole,” Tate’s Mom proclaimed then wailed, “Buck, baby, how’re you gonna live without your other half?” And she collapsed in Tate’s arms, her sobs clearly audible because they were
loud
.

I watched Tate’s jaw get tight as his eyes went over his mother’s head to find mine.

“Babe, take Jonas inside,” he ordered.

I nodded because he looked pissed. And because of that, I tried not to let it show that his mother’s words affected me, I glanced at my family and then led Jonas toward the building.

We’d taken five steps when I heard her say in a loud whisper, “Buck, darlin’, who on earth is
she?
”

Jonas’s arm convulsed at my waist, I avoided my family’s eyes and I hurried him forward.

* * * * *

Jonas didn’t stay glued to me during the run up to the memorial service because Tate’s Mom, Shania, (Stella shared her name with me, she also shared that wasn’t her real name, her real name was Bernadette, but it was the name she changed it to when she was forty and having her
first
(Stella reported there were three that she knew of) mid-life crisis) commandeered him, acting like she was a staple in his life even though he looked confused and uncomfortable as she pulled him this way and that, keeping her hands on him nearly all the time.

Shania also spent a great deal of time sobbing, exclaiming about what a loss wild, crazy, full of life Neeta was to the world and generally sucking all of the attention she could get.

I hung back with my family, who stayed close and quiet. What made matters worse was the fact that Tate was clearly incensed by his mother’s behavior and he wasn’t the only one. Pop, Wood, Stella, Krystal, Jim-Billy, Betty, Ned and practically everyone else glared at her openly but her shields were solid and these glares glanced off her with no visible effect. Tate stayed close to Shania but I figured this was because of Jonas rather than any need to be near his mother. In fact, he seemed to be struggling with his desire to say something. But the events of the day forced him to behave with decorum and I knew this was taking a lot out of him because my man pretty much let it rip whenever the mood came over him and I could tell the mood was most definitely over him.

It was when the service was about to start and I’d shifted with my family and sat in the back when it happened.

Shania led Tate and Jonas to the front row and made a show of declaring the seating arrangements, herself between “my two boys” (her loud words). Tate nor Jonas sat, however, even when she pushed at the both of them. The Jackson boys’ eyes searched the large congregation and found me. When they did, I shook my head and smiled that it was okay and it was. It wasn’t for me to sit with them in the front row at Neeta’s funeral.

I was looking at
my
boys therefore I was startled when I heard Pop say from beside me, “Sweetheart.”

I looked to the side and up to see he had his arm extended in front of my Dad, his hand toward me.

“Pop, it’s okay,” I whispered.

“Family sits in front,” Pop stated.

“It’s okay, I think –”

“Family sits in front, Laurie.”

“Pop, you should –”

“Front,” he rumbled.

“Go, hon,” Dad whispered, I looked at him, he nodded to me, I bit my lip, looked at Pop and took his hand.

He led me to the front.

“Move along, Shania,” Stella demanded quietly when Pop and I got there.

“What?” Shania asked Stella but her eyes were on me.

“Down the row,” Stella stated.

Shania twisted her neck to look at Stella. “I’m sittin’ with my boys.”

“Fine, you can do that but down the row,” Stella returned.

“But –” Shania started and Tate moved.

He leaned in, grabbed my hand and looked down at Jonas. “Sit, Bub.”

Instantly, Jonas sat, Tate used my hand to pull me in front of Shania and he pushed me in the seat beside Jonas then he sat down beside me.

He looked up at his mother and jerked his head down the row. “Sit, Mom.”

Quickly, Stella sat at the end of the aisle. Wood sat by her, Wood’s pretty, dark-haired six year old daughter crawling into his lap. Pop sat between Wood and Jonas, Tate sat by me and Shania had no choice but to sit at the end.

Blake, Neeta’s man, sat opposite the aisle with what looked like his parents beside him and Neeta’s posse led by Carmen plopping down in seats by the parents. I glanced in his direction but Tate didn’t, nor did any of Neeta’s family, nor Jonas, and Blake didn’t look our way. But I could see, even from his profile, he was lost and suffering. It might have gone bad along the way but once it had been good and that was what Blake Daniels was remembering while he stared at the closed casket.

“This is bullshit.” I heard Shania mutter, taking my mind off Blake and then I felt Tate’s angry, dark energy flash.

He turned to her and whispered, “One more word, I swear to God…”

He let that hang and I felt Jonas get stiff. I slid my arm around his shoulders and he didn’t hesitate before he fell sideways into me. I felt Tate’s arm go around my shoulders and I pulled Jonas with me as I fell sideways into Tate. Then I felt Tate’s lips come to my ear.

“I know why you did it, Ace,” Tate said quietly in my ear and I knew he was still angry when he finished. “But don’t you fuckin’ leave us again.”

I didn’t look at him when I nodded. His arm squeezed my shoulders. I squeezed Jonas’s then I leaned down to whisper into the top of his head, “Relax, baby, this’ll be over soon.”

“Okay, Laurie,” Jonas whispered back.

I held him tighter. Tate held me tighter.

Then Guns ‘n’ Roses “Sweet Child o’ Mine” started playing and out of the corner of my eye I saw Wood move. I looked at him to see he’d turned his head toward Tate.

The lone guitar strains tore through the quiet space, they were joined by more guitar, then drums. The beat throbbed loud and pounded into our chests, the tempo increasing and finally Axl Rose’s voice rocked out words so sweet they tore at your soul.

Wood grinned at Tate.

I twisted my neck and looked up to see that Tate grinned back.

* * * * *

Later, at graveside, opposite where Jonas and Tate were sitting by the casket, me behind them, I saw Bubba walk up to the mourners moments before the minister started speaking.

The minute the service was done, Tate got up, pulled his chair out of the row, grabbed my hand and tugged me through. With one hand in mine, the other hand on Jonas’s shoulder, he led us straight to Bubba.

Bubba watched as we walked up to him, his eyes locked on Tate.

Tate stopped in front of Bubba and I held my breath.

“Tate –” Bubba started then Tate moved, letting my hand go, one of his arms wrapped around Bubba and I watched Bubba’s eyes close as one of his arms wrapped around Tate.

They stood that way for long moments before Tate pounded Bubba’s back and stepped away.

Bubba looked down at Jonas. “Hey little man,” he whispered and Jonas moved forward and hugged Bubba’s waist.

When he moved back, I moved in, fitting myself to his front and giving him a squeeze.

“Hey gorgeous.” He was still whispering and doing it into the top of my hair.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

When I stepped away, Tate claimed me with an arm around my shoulders but his eyes were on Bubba.

“You comin’ to Pop’s?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Bubba answered. “You want me at Pop’s?”

Tate didn’t respond, just gave Bubba a look.

Bubba dropped his head and said to the grass, “I’m comin’ to Pop’s.”

Tate nodded, lifted a hand and clapped Bubba on the shoulder then he moved Jonas and me toward the Explorer.

Then we went to Pop’s.

* * * * *

It took approximately twenty minutes for the pall to lift and the backyard at Pop’s became less a post-funeral gathering and more a party. This had a lot to do with the keg that was out there sitting by a cooler that was full of bottles of beer as well as the fact that a lot of people brought their own bottles of hard liquor from which they imbibed liberally, some of them not even using glasses to do it.

I stuck close to Jonas and Tate and my family stuck close to me, thus us. It wasn’t until half an hour later that beer and partaking of the food covering the table in Pop’s dining room and the counters of his kitchen that we loosened up.

I noticed that Dad and Mack had Jonas and they were standing talking with Stella and Wood and Wood’s two kids. Wood’s ex-wife, Maggie, a pretty, petite, curvy brunette was there (Tate pointed her out to me with a jerk of his head and a mumbled, “Wood’s old lady, Maggie”) but she was giving them a wide berth.

It was after I spent some time studying Maggie, thinking she was very pretty and also that she looked somewhat sad and adrift when I realized I’d lost sight of Tate so I quit studying Maggie and went to find him. Not finding him in the house, I went to the backyard and didn’t see him there either. I rounded the house and stopped when I saw him, his back to me, the bright colors of a gypsy skirt all I could see of his mother standing in front of him.

“… since he was five years old. That sure as fuck doesn’t give you the right to act like that.” I heard him say and I knew, just by his voice, he was seriously angry.

“Tatum –” she started.

“He doesn’t even fuckin’
know
you, this shit’s hard on him and you come in and…” He hesitated. “Fuck, I don’t even know what that shit was about.”

“I’m his grandmother,” she snapped.

“He met his Gramma today, Lauren’s Mom, and she’s the only one he’s ever gonna have if you don’t fuckin’ cool it.”

“
Lauren’s
Mom?” she hissed and I stared, the words I was going to say to intervene lodging in my throat when I watched Tate’s body get tight from head to foot and he leaned forward threateningly.

“Yeah,
Lauren’s
Mom,” Tate shot back and continued angrily. “You know, I always thought it was okay, you bein’ you ‘cause it was the only thing I knew. And because of that, I thought it was okay for Jonas, Neet bein’ Neet. Better he have somethin’ than nothin’ ‘cause what I knew was, nothin’ made you like Neet and somethin’ was a fuckuva better than that. Now I know that shit’s not right,
your
shit’s not right.”