Colorado 02 Sweet Dreams (70 page)

“Did
Lauren
teach you that?” Shania snapped her question.

“This isn’t about Lauren,” Tate returned.

“Seems to me it is. Seems to me someone got himself a little swanky somethin’ somethin’ and now he thinks his shit don’t stink like he thought when he was Mr. Hotshot Football Player.”

I gasped and Shania leaned to the side, saw me and her eyes narrowed but Tate stayed on point.

“You been gone for five years, Jonas doesn’t even remember you, and you think you can roll into town and make this day, the second shittiest day in his life after the day he found out his Mom’s dead, all about you. Woman, that shit’s whacked.”

“You wanna join our conversation?” Shania asked, ignoring Tate, her eyes on me. “Seein’ as you seem so interested in it.”

Tate turned to the side and his eyes came to me but I kept my eyes to Shania when I replied, “No, I’m good with just listening.”

“Well, maybe you’ll do me a favor, darlin’, and give me a second alone with my boy,” she demanded through suggestion.

“And maybe I won’t,” I replied and Shania looked at Tate.

“Neeta’s fresh in her grave and she’s already rollin’ in it, knowin’ this one’s here, wearin’ her fancy-ass outfit and her fancy-ass shoes, lookin’ down her nose at the rest of us,” she remarked.

Tate stared at his mother for long moments then looked to the heavens and sighed.

Then he righted his head but shook it and muttered, “We’re done.”

“We aren’t,” Shania stated and Tate leveled his gaze at her.

“We are and I mean that in every way it can be meant, you get me?”

She looked like he’d slapped her before she began, “I –”

Tate cut her off. “Jonas has had enough of your brand of dysfunctional bullshit in his life and I didn’t shield him from it. The way I see it, I got eight years to keep him safe from that shit before he finds his own way and I’m doin’ it.”

“I can’t believe you,” she hissed. “Sayin’ this to me,
today.
Neeta was my girl and we just laid her in the ground.”

“
We
didn’t do
shit.
” Tate leaned toward her to say. “You paraded in, as usual, makin’ a big scene and makin’ it all about you. Pop, Stell, Wood and Jonas laid her to rest today. You just showed up and turned it all to shit.” He leaned back and drawled sarcastically, “Congratulations Mom, I would figure that was an impossibility, makin’ shit even shittier, but you managed it.”

“I loved her!” she snapped, her voice rising.

“If you did, then why’d you let her down when she lost her Mom and needed another one? I was young but I remember Neet turnin’ to you and you doin’ what you do best, turnin’ away.” Shania’s face paled but Tate kept at her. “For that matter, why’d you let
me
down seein’ as
you
made it so I never had a mother at all?”

Her voice was barely a whisper when she said, “You know me, Tate, you know I gotta be free.”

“Yeah, so the good news is, you can be as free as you want. Rest easy, Mom, we got it covered,” Tate retorted.

Shania’s eyes slid to me and she accused, “This is about her.”

“Damn straight,” Tate shot back and semi-repeated, “damn fuckin’ straight.”

Then he turned away from her and came right at me. He hooked an arm around my neck, turned me and propelled me forward as he prowled to the backyard, through it and to the backdoor.

Once we were inside, I whispered, “You okay?”

“Fuck no,” he replied, not whispering at all.

“Is there something I can do?” I asked and he stopped us in Pop’s living room, turned into me and looked down at me.

“You’re doin’ it,” he stated.

“I am?” I asked.

He looked over my head as he shook his then he looked back down at me.

“You love me?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered instantly.

“That’s it, you’re doin’ it,” he finished.

His arm staying around my neck, he guided us to Jonas.

* * * * *

It was getting late.

I was sitting on Pop’s couch, sipping at a bottle of beer, leaning a bit into my Dad at my side while my fingers slid through Jonas’s hair, his head on my thigh, his body curled into the couch beside me, he was asleep.

“Like your boy,” Dad muttered and I looked at him.

“Which one?” I asked and Dad smiled at me.

“Both of ‘em,” he answered and I smiled back.

I looked across the room to see people pecking at the remainder of the food on the table, Tate and Stella standing amongst them, slightly removed. Tate had his arm around Stella’s shoulders, she was leaning her head on his and what appeared to be the rest of her weight into his side with her arms loose around his waist. Carrie and Mack were standing with them. From my vantage point I could see Mom in the kitchen with Pop. He had his hips to the counter, arm lifted, pulling at a bottle of beer at his lips. Mom was chattering at him while bustling around, moving leftover food from one plate to another, condensing at the same time she tidied. There was music coming from outside and the party was getting rowdy if the noise from the people out there was anything to go by.

“You feeling okay?” I asked Dad, not looking at him.

“Better,” he answered. “Got a new diet and exercises I do every day. Food stinks, I’d kill for some fried mushrooms but if I even looked at ‘em your mother’d have a conniption. She doesn’t even keep shortening in the house, she
steams
everything. Vegetables, fish, swear the woman would steam steak if she could do it,” Dad replied.

“You have to stay fit, get your cholesterol level down,” I told him.

“Your Mom keeps at it, my body’ll forget what cholesterol is,” Dad muttered, I grinned and looked down at Jonas’s head on my thigh as my fingers slid through his hair.

“Your Mom told me about him,” Dad said softly, “Tate.”

“Yes?” I asked softly back, my fingers moving again through Jonas’s hair.

“Said he took care of you when you found out about me bein’ sick. Brought you all the way to Indiana, laid it out for that idiot ex of yours,” Dad went on.

“Yeah,” I was still speaking softly.

“Gotta say, hon, years I been worried. Years, you with that man. Never trusted him to take care of my girl. Never. Never thought he’d look after you, keep you safe. And, in the end, I was right.”

I turned and looked at my father.

“Dad,” I whispered.

“Can’t tell you, Lauren.” His voice got lower and thicker, his eyes slid toward Tate before coming back to me, “Can’t say… beside myself knowin’ I can quit worryin’ about my girl.”

“Daddy,” I whispered again but said no more because Jonas’s body moved, like a flinch, and I knew he wasn’t asleep.

Before I could say anything to Jonas, Dad, who obviously hadn’t felt Jonas move, kept talking. “He’s a good man, I can tell, it’s stamped all over him but the best part is the way he looks at you and his boy.”

Jonas’s body got tighter.

“Dad –” I started.

“He’d die before he let anything hurt you,” Dad continued.

“Dad,” I said urgently as I felt Jonas’s body get even tighter.

Dad talked over me. “You or his boy, he’d lay his life down, wouldn’t blink, wouldn’t think.”

“Dad, Jonas is –” I started, Jonas rolled to his back and Dad’s eyes went to Tate.

“That’s the kind of man who’s good enough for my girl,” Dad concluded but I looked down to see Jonas looking up at me.

“What man were you with, Laurie?” Jonas whispered and out of the corner of my eye I saw Dad’s head jerk down to look at him but I kept my gaze on Jonas.

“You playing possum, Bub?” I asked on a grin, trying to change the subject.

“What man were you with?” Jonas repeated, not feeling like a subject change.

I slid my hand along his cheek and then rested it at the top of his chest. “I was married before I met your Dad,” I told him gently.

Jonas lifted up to sitting and twisted his torso toward me and Dad, his eyes on Dad.

“He wasn’t as good as Dad?” Jonas asked my father.

“Not by a long shot,” Dad answered firmly and Jonas looked at me.

Then he grinned which was when I relaxed.

“Dad’s a catch,” he remarked.

“Um… yeah,” I grinned back.

“Girls think he’s hot,” Jonas noted.

I looked at Tate then back at his son.

“Yeah.” I was still grinning.

Jonas’s grin turned mischievous. “Everyone says I look just like him.”

I heard Dad chuckle and I swallowed a giggle before nodding. “Yes, baby, you do.”

“Means I’m hot too,” Jonas stated.

“Well –” I began.

“Girls’re already all over me, want me to kiss ‘em at recess,” Jonas informed me audaciously.

“Do you kiss them?” Dad asked.

“Only the pretty ones,” Jonas answered.

Dad laughed right out but my eyes narrowed on Jonas.

“Jonas Jackson, are you telling me you kiss pretty girls at recess?”

“Well, yeah,” Jonas answered.

“Bub, you’re
ten,
” I reminded him.

“So?” he asked.

“You’re not supposed to be into girls for at least five more years,” I proclaimed.

Jonas’s head tilted to the side. “Is that a rule?”

“Yes, I just made it up. It’s Lauren’s rule for when Jonas can be into girls.”

“You can’t make up rules, Laurie,” Jonas told me.

“I just did,” I replied, Jonas looked at Dad and rolled his eyes but I looked at Tate and shouted across the room, “Tate! Jonas is kissing pretty girls at recess!”

Tate’s eyes cut to me but Jonas threw himself at me and cupped his hand over my mouth.

“Laurie!” he yelled.

I struggled with his lean, too strong for a ten-year-old kid’s body, one arm wrapped around his waist, my other hand at his wrist, trying to pull his hand from my mouth.

I succeeded and yelled to Tate, “Jonas is ten and already breaking girls’ hearts!”

 “Laurie!” Jonas repeated, sounding mortified and exasperated and I looked from Jonas’s father’s face, his mouth twitching, to Jonas.

“Well, you are,” I said.

“You don’t have to shout it across the room!” He was still yelling.

“Your father should know,” I informed him. “Seeing as your moving so fast, you’ll probably start going on dates next week and Tate’ll have to drive you and I’ll have to make more cupcakes, all your women showing up at the house to study with you.”

Jonas slouched back and crossed his arms on his chest, telling me, “I’m not goin’ on dates. I’m playin’ the field.”

Dad burst out laughing but I glared and snapped, “Jonas!”

Jonas looked at Dad. “I gotta keep my options open, make sure I get a good one.”

I looked at the ceiling. “Lord, deliver me,” I implored and looked back at Jonas when he poked me in the ribs.

“Laurie, I’m
ten.
” He used my words against me then grinned cheekily again. “Like I said, gotta keep my options open.”

“You’re grounded,” I announced.

“Why!” Jonas shouted.

I didn’t answer, instead I went on. “And you’re staying grounded until you’re sixteen.”

Jonas’s head whipped around and he yelled, “Dad! Laurie grounded me until I’m sixteen!”

I looked to Tate to see Mom and Pop had joined Tate, Stella, Mack and Carrie and they all had eyes to the couch.

“Sure I can talk her outta that, Bub,” Tate called back, Jonas looked at me and grinned smugly.

I glared at Jonas then rolled my eyes then muttered, “I need another beer.” Then I looked back at Jonas, lifted my brows and asked, “Since you’re growing up so fast, do you want a beer?”

“Yep,” he answered instantly.

“Tough,” I replied, caught him by the neck, pulled him to me and kissed his forehead.

Then I let him go, pushed off the couch, gave Tate a “we’re going to talk later” look which only made him shake his head, still fighting his grin and I headed to the cooler outside.

When I got outside, I saw, through the sea of people, Bubba sitting on top of a picnic table at the bottom end of the yard.

I gave up on the beer, threw my bottle in an overflowing garbage bin and wended my way through bodies. When I got to him, I started to climb up carefully (my skirt was tight and I still had on my pumps) then Bubba’s hand came out and grabbed mine, holding firm and steadying me until I sat down next to him, hip to hip and he let my hand go.

He’d looked at me when I arrived and kept looking at me as I sat down but he didn’t say a word. I let this go on for awhile before I bumped him with my shoulder.

“You okay?” I asked quietly.

Bubba didn’t answer so I turned to him.

“Bubba?”

“Miss my cloud,” he muttered then sat back, lifting a can of Coke to his lips, he took a deep slug.

I stared at the Coke, a Coke that was not a beer and it was not a bottle of bourbon, vodka or gin, then I stared at Bubba.

“You miss your cloud?” I asked.

He leaned into his elbows at his knees and didn’t reply.

I leaned into mine but did it twisted to him.

“Bubba, honey, talk to me,” I whispered.

“Motherfucker got Neeta,” he whispered back.

I put my hand to his back. “I know.”

“Krys was right, Laurie.” He was still whispering. “Coulda been anyone. Coulda been her and that would be on me.”

“Bubba,” I said gently.

His head twisted so he could look at me. “See her man?”

“Sorry?”

His eyes went over my back and he looked into the yard. My eyes followed his and I saw he was looking at Blake, standing apart from the crowd, a mostly empty bottle of bourbon in his hand, his face desolate, his manner removed, his eyes on the people in the backyard like he didn’t know who they were, even
what
they were, as if he’d been beamed to another planet to study aliens.

“Blake, her man,” Bubba replied, shook his head, looked away and muttered, “Fuck.”

“Honey –”

“He feels it, that fucker, written all over him, and he should,” Bubba told me.

“Bubba –”

“Actually thought, long time ago, he’d be good for her. She wasn’t any good for Tate, too much shit between them, too much shit, but Blake, he was a good guy and he loved her. No shit there, he was solid, had a good job, had a strong hand with her. Don’t know what went wrong, don’t care. He fell down and she got raped with a –”